Hey guys, thank you so much for still reading my fic! I know I'm veeery late - gosh, it's almost February already! - but I still wanted to wish you a happy New Year! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ^^! Last but not least, a special thanks goes to all of you who left me a comment (THANK YOUUU! I'm lame and I always reply to your comments in such a shitty way, but really, they make me SO happy) and to my friend Su! Thank you again for reading! See ya!


"I'm so boooored!" Izaya whined from beneath the orange flowery shirt covering his head and half-hiding his face. "And Shizu-chan's shirt is all sweaty! So gross!"

Shizuo stood alone on the deck of the boat, turning a deaf ear to Izaya's provocations. He wore his trademark sunglasses and a pair of blue swimming trunks that he and Izaya had found in a bargain bin at the minimart. He stared at the sea, wind in his hair and hands on his hips, in a position that reminded Izaya of the parody of a proud Viking or, much likely, an overexcited puppy.

Izaya giggled at his own thoughts, but they were far from enough to keep him entertained.

"Well, next time, maybe you should wear a hat if you're bothered by the sun, don't you think, Izaya-kun?" Shinra chirped. The doctor patted his shoulder and went back to the idle, boring, chat with Kyouko about her father and his passion for fishing.

Despite the fact that they had left the harbor half a hour ago, the shore was still visible at Izaya's back; the hill glistened with the sparkles of sunrays hitting metal surfaces and, near the lighthouse, the boats cradled in the waves. If he watched closely enough, he could still catch a glimpse of his beloved humans walking down the streets. That was the place Izaya wanted to be, and he would have fought for returning home if only curiosity hadn't kept him from complaining enough to convince his travel buddies to do an about face - on the island where they were headed lived another person who had seen a Dullahan.

Izaya hoped that the information he would find there would justify the heat sinking into his black hair and itching his fair skin even though he wore sunscreen. The side, the back, and the seat of the boat were uncomfortably warm and the knot in his stomach very probably meant he was about to be seasick, too. To add insult to injury, that spit of land they needed reach was still blended with the blue line marking the curve of the horizon. Sick and tired, he pulled out the Swiss Army knife Shizuo had bought him one month ago, and started filing his already manicured nails to keep himself busy and, mostly, to try to ignore that the only thing around him was dark ripples.

It unsettled him, sailing in blue water with an old boat not much bigger than a bath tub, since he had no idea how to swim. After all, Izaya thought, he had the skills to be a strategist, not a fisherman. Besides, after one month they went to the seaside almost every day, neither him and Shizuo had ever swam in the sea.

Sizing Shizuo up, Izaya tried to guess if the beast had been taught how to swim when he was a kid.

Despite his efforts, Izaya didn't know much about Shizuo's past, since nobody had even a shred of information about the Heiwajima brothers. It frustrated him to no end, this lack of knowledge about Shizuo's childhood. Knowing someone's life and times meant having them at his mercy, right? Information is power, after all. Instead, it was as though, one winter night, Shizuo and his little brother appeared out of nowhere in front of the Military Academy, knocking at the door and begging to let them come in.

Witnesses had always referred to the Shizuo of that night as the blond kid with inhuman strength but, just with a quick glance, Izaya understood that Shizuo wasn't a natural blond. Through his binoculars, Izaya saw that his hair roots were chocolate brown, of a lighter and warmer color than his brother's. Shizuo's choice to spend the little money he had to buy hair dye had always fascinated Izaya. To a superficial observer, it looked just like a selfish way to show off, since blond hair really suited that monster, but Izaya was used to pay attention to details. To him, that particular one whispered everything.

It was a desperate warning.

The glistening gold of his strands, rare in their lands full of dark-haired people, was Shizuo's silent shout to keep everybody away. His hair was the way Shizuo choose to warn the whole world that he was different, dangerous, an aberration. Shizuo was aware that he was a monster, and Izaya's insults were nothing more than the manifestation of his own thoughts. What Izaya called him couldn't hurt him more than his own self-hatred.

You're not human, Shizu-chan.

You were a monster.

This is the reason why I will never love you.

There was no need for Izaya to remind him what he was - Shizuo had coiled the word monster around each DNA helix in his cells and engraved it into his conscience.

Pushing the orange flowery shirt aside, Izaya studied the way Shizuo's fingers brushed across the curve of his neck. Izaya's hickies had faded from there, blending into the honeyed color of his skin until no trace was left. Shizuo intertwined his hands on the nape of his neck and Izaya breathed in, slowly, struggling to wade away the evidence that Shizuo's hands of destructions were used to pet their cat now, to prepare food, to wash Izaya's hair, to hold his hand. They were so gentle and hesitant now, almost caring.

Izaya slid the shirt back on his face, breathing in Shizuo's scent.

And now? He couldn't prevent himself from wondering.

What is Shizuo now?


Time flowed like pitch, unveiling bit by bit an island that looked like the miniature of the seaside where Izaya spent his afternoons in Shizuo's company. Nothing new under the sun. Hills covered in trees, water caressing the sandy shores. They docked the boat at an old wooden jetty, close to another ship, bigger than theirs and painted a deep mahogany color.

When he finally had his feet on the ground, Izaya hissed: "Thank you so much, Shizu-chan." Not bothering to look at Shizuo in the eye, he threw the orange shirt back at him. Once again, Shizuo didn't respond.

After securing the boat at the mooring, they took a packed-earth path that meandered through the lush vegetation. Every now and then, the thick undergrowth swallowed every trace of it, so it felt as though they were explorers walking through a wild forest. A few steps were enough to make Izaya wonder: How the hell could a doctor suggest this as a relaxing trip for a patient still unable to walk on his own? The path was uphill, the protruding rocks and roots offered no steady support for the crutches and, already exhausted from the sunbath from before, Izaya couldn't help but constantly losing his balance.

"Izaya-kun, you can lean on me if you want to!" Shinra said, pouncing until he was in front of him. "I saw that you stumbled on that stone- Oh, you almost slipped again. Mind the roots!"

"I'm fine, Shinra. Just keep going," Izaya cut him short.

"Would you let me help you, Izaya-san?" Kyouko asked few minutes after, leaning her hand on Izaya's shoulder ever so slightly.

"No, thank you. I'm just fine," he replied, wearing a polite smile.

"Come here, Izaya," Shizuo mumbled after a while, pinching Izaya's forearm.

Izaya snorted.

This was what annoyed him the most, even more than baking in the sun. Of course he didn't want a helping hand! Or, at least, he refused to lean on Shinra, he couldn't bear his ramblings, nor on Kyouko, because small talk about their mutual, blond friend was something Izaya would gladly avoid and, more than anything, not on Shizuo. Izaya didn't want to be helped, held, pitied by him anymore.

God, he even got off thinking of him, someone Izaya hated so much. The farther from Shizuo he was, right now, the better.

In the end, Shinra was the lesser evil. As he passed one arm across the doctor's shoulder and leaned on him, Izaya realized how different Shinra's body build was from Shizuo's. Shinra was shorter, so it was easier for Izaya to walk since he didn't dangle off the doctor, but he was also scrawny, his hands cold and bony. Shizuo was solid instead, his hold firm across Izaya's waist, almost bruising. Every now and then when he carried him, Shizuo would turn his head to the side to ask Izaya if he was all right. Izaya wasn't able to see him then, because he preferred to not face Shizuo when they were so close, but he felt him every time - the intensity of his gaze, warm breath ticking his ear, his hold becoming even firmer just for an instant and making Izaya's body feel hot.

The echo of Shizuo's deep voice made Izaya tilt his head up from the roots he was trying to avoid.

He and Kyouko were dozens of step ahead, walking side by side. The path narrowed suddenly and their arms brushed.

Izaya averted his gaze.

It was so obvious that their feelings were mutual. After all, she was perfect for him, quiet and kind, rather motherly in her protective attitudes, with pleasant features without being eye-catching - just the kind of older partner Shizuo had always had a soft spot for. They were even friends now, and Shizuo helped her with the shop, from time to time. Last but not least, she was a woman.

Izaya wondered what would have happened between him and Shizuo, if only he hadn't been male. Would our first meeting have been different? How would our relationship have been?

...Would have Shizuo looked at me in a different way while he undressed and washed me?

The thought felt like spreading kerosene on a flame - it was enough to make him imagine how it would have been being a woman, naked in front of the man he hated the most. He fantasized about how Shizuo's body would look as he towered over him. Izaya imagined him devoid of the kindness that suited him so much now, a true monster, just how Izaya wanted him, with dark eyes, a terrible expression on his face as his calloused palms slid down Izaya's feminine body, cupping his breasts as though Shizuo had forgotten that he was just supposed to wash him in order to touch him instead. Shizuo's strength would hurt him even more if he were a woman, one who wasn't a born fighter, his teeth would sink into his flesh, devouring him. And Izaya had to stop there, forcing control over his thoughts, because he refused to think how it would feel like to clench those broad shoulders as Shizuo moved inside of him.

Izaya found smirking hard when Shizuo turned and looked at him, as though the beast had just sensed his presence in Izaya's thoughts. Luckily, the corners of Izaya's mouth were used to stretch in a grin, like a reflex, regardless of his state of mind. Shizuo blinked, and for a moment his eyebrows darted up in surprise before he averted his gaze.


A lighthouse sat on the top of the hill, in a clearing surrounded by beech trees. It was a low building, with a cottage attached, both their walls painted light blue. The path they had been following from the jetty ended at a porch casting shadows on the entry door. Here, there was a wooden bench with colorful patchwork pillows, a half-full ashtray, and a sketchbook left open. The breeze made the pages flap, showing pencil drawings of the landscape visible from here: trees, clouds, and the sea glistening in the sharp sun.

Shinra rang the doorbell. There was a noise of approaching steps, then the door swung open and an old man appeared. He was short and thin, his eyes so heavily lidded that it looked as though he was asleep. His age was impossible to tell; most generously, he was in his late seventies, maybe older. His skin was leathery with prolonged sun exposition, heavily wrinkled, and the few hair escaping a black beret was grey and frizzy like cotton balls. As soon as he spotted them, the old man exclaimed:

"Good God, if it isn't Kishitani Shinra!"

"Good morning, Hamasaki-san!" Shinra said, hinting a bow. "I've brought the meds you need!"

"Hope you brought tobacco too, though." The man cracked one eye open to observe Shinra's travel companions. "Oh, there's Kyouko-chan, too. You sure grew a lot from the last time I've seen you. And who are those two boys?"

"They're Izaya and Shizuo-kun, friends of mine - very quiet guys," Shinra replied, with an admirable poker face. "Would you let us come in?"

"Sure," the old man replied, making way. When he invited them to come in, Izaya noticed Hamasaki's hands were bony and marked with protruding veins, but they lacked the tremors typical of old age. There was something elegant in them.

Izaya crossed the threshold and stepped into a narrow hallway. Here, the smell of sea gave way to the stronger stench of paint. Both walls were studded with canvases, from oil paintings to pencil portraits and charcoal sketches, arranged so close to each other that it was even difficult to guess what the wall color was. "Hamasaki-san was a street artist," Shinra clarified. "My father and I help him selling his paintings, since he's lived alone on this island from thirty years already!"

Dark wooden floorboards creaked slightly under his crutches as Izaya walked through this awkward art gallery until he reached the living room. It was a small, pretty room with a blue couch in the middle where Shinra insisted that Izaya sat down.

"I'm here for a check too, you know?" Shinra said, letting his doctor bag fall on the wooden floor.

"We'll wait outside, Shinra," Kyouko said, heading back toward the door. Shizuo casted a sidelong glance at Izaya, before he followed her outside.

Izaya grabbed the crutches, but Shinra stopped him by leaning his hand on Izaya's shoulder and whispering: "Stay."

The entry door closed and Shinra lifted his eyes from his doctor bag. "Hamasaki-san," Shinra said. "Izaya-kun has seen her too."

Grey eyebrows darted up. Small, black eyes shone in the bright daylight seeping through the white linen curtains and Izaya realized he had just met another member of the Dullahan fan club. "Are you joking?" The old man breathed.

Shinra shook his head. "The Dullahan came to our village two days ago."

"Did someone die?"

"No. She didn't have the severed head under her arm."

"Why-" Hamasaki paused. Izaya thought he was going to ask why the Dullahan didn't carry the head with her, just to realize there was something he wanted to know more. "How many people saw her?"

"Just Izaya-kun and me."

The old painter turned toward Izaya, his mouth opening and closing without uttering a single word, as though he was desperately trying to say a lot of things all in once and he couldn't decide which one to say firsts. Finally, he spoke.

"Just a suggestion, young man. Never say you've seen her."

"It isn't a good idea, indeed," Shinra explained, while checking Hamasaki's blood pressure. "You know, that's the reason he lives here. He showed the drawing he made after he had seen her and people got scared. There's plenty of superstitious people in a village so close to those haunted lands; they sent Hamasaki-san away saying he was a curse. You had been unable to walk on your own and didn't get to know the people who live there yet, beside Kyouko-san and me, but if someone spots a Dullahan and survives - and that must not been taken for granted, now that I think of it - we never say we've seen her. You can't even imagine how irrational people would get if you make them feel threatened."

Izaya nodded. "Understand. Not a soul will get to know what I've seen. Not even Shizu-chan."

Shinra paused, evaluating the situation. "Yeah," he said in the end. "Better keeping it a secret between me, you and Hamasaki-san."

"So nobody else knows about that Dullahan beside you two?" Izaya asked.

"No," Hamasaki said. "There is someone else."

Tanaka Tom, Izaya mentally replied to his own question, remembering Shizuo's words from one month ago: "Tom-san said he had seen a monster in the wild lands." Gathering information from the beast's boss without making Shizuo suspicious was difficult, since the beast was so astute at reading through Izaya's plans, to the point of being incredibly irritating. But if Shinra already knew what Tanaka Tom had seen, it would prove to be not quite a cakewalk, but still far easier than trying to gather information from someone much more confident with Shizuo than him .

"There is someone else indeed," Shinra agreed.

Tanaka Tom.

Shinra exhaled, turning his head sideways.

Come on, Shinra. Say it. Tell me what Tanaka Tom has seen.

Shinra closed the doctor bag and exhaled: "My father saw her too."

...Eh?

Izaya wore a face of utter nonchalance when he said: "Really, Shinra? How did that happen?"

Shinra tilted his chin up, and replied: "We were together, of course!" Izaya was going to say that wasn't a satisfying reply at all when Shinra changed the subject: "Anyway, can I show him your drawings, Hamasaki-san?"

The old man nodded and hinted a sideboard. "First drawer," he said.

Shinra opened it. He pulled out a white sketchbook with a metal spiral binding on one side and passed it to Izaya. When Izaya opened the first page, it greeted him a detailed pencil drawing of the Dullahan he had seen few days before. Under the woman's arm, instead of the head, there was a white halo.

"I can't really decide how to draw the head, though," the old man said. "So I can't bring myself to finish my drawings..."

"Nah." Shinra shrugged, as he leaned on the sketchbook to admire the Dullahan. "It's fine if you don't draw her head, Hamasaki-san. She's beautiful even without it."

The old man shook his head, brows knitted, as if Shinra had just said something that denied his nature as artist. "You're really a strange guy, aren't you?"

Izaya brushed the white halo under the Dullahan's arm, and felt a rush of adrenaline as the pad of his index finger caught on the erased pencil lines embossed in the paper.

"It was summer when I saw her too. You know, young man, I think that there's a moment, somewhere in our life, that defines who we are. This is the reason why I keep drawing her, over and over, because I don't want to forget even a ruffle of her dress or how shadows curled across her figure."

The painter's voice broke and his chest heaved.

"The moment I saw her is worth my entire existence."


Around noon, the weather broke.

Dark thunderclouds mounted from the North, carrying pouring rain. The wind howled and the sea was grey and white, in an uproar of long breaking waves. The trees swayed in a rustle of leaves. In haste, Izaya, Shizuo, Shinra and Kyouko gathered the picnic lunch and the blankets they brought from home and ran back to Hamasaki's house. The afternoon stretched before them inside the tiny cottage, hoping to see the sea calm again and the sun peeking from behind the backdrop of slate-colored clouds.

The storm did pass, but the sun had already disappeared along with the ability to go back home today. Shizuo called Tanaka Tom, apologizing that he would miss his shift at the pub. Kyouko called her father saying to not wait her for dinner and asked him to leave some leftovers in Shizuo and Izaya's garden for their cat Alfred. Shinra was the one who made longer calls, while Izaya sat on the blue couch, doing crosswords.

"You're the handsomest young man I've ever seen in long time," Hamasaki said to Izaya during dinner. "Would you let me draw you? It won't take long."

Izaya agreed. He had nothing interesting to do, after all. Shizuo was clearing the table and washing dishes with Kyouko, while Shinra had disappeared with several sketchbooks he had taken from the cupboard. The best bet was that he was admiring his beloved Celty in a dark corner of the house.

Hamasaki made Izaya sit on the couch in the living room. The door was open, and on the hallway floor there was a blade of light coming from the kitchen alongside Shizuo and Kyouko's voices. Probably it was due to the sensation of being in someone else's house, but it was easy to imagine that this was their home, and that silence Izaya was hearing meant that Shizuo had just stopped talking to kiss her lips. He would kiss her again in their bedroom, drops of sweat glistening on his forehead in the dim, warm light of a bedside lamp.

Izaya swallowed.

"Is there something bothering you, young man?" Hamasaki asked. The old painter wasn't drawing anymore, his gaze fixed on Izaya.

Izaya smiled.

"I'm just tired."

It wasn't an utter lie. This strange day had tired him to no end, so Izaya felt relieved when Hamasaki finished the drawing and invited him to go to sleep.

The house was small, there was only one guest room which Hamasaki insisted that they leave to Kyouko. Shizuo and Shinra curled up on the living room floor with blankets and pillows. Izaya took the blue couch. He was so tired he fell asleep immediately.

He dreamt of a hallway, long and dark and cold as the ones in the manor where Izaya lived when he was a child. Though it was different, so high he couldn't see the ceiling, and it smelled not of floor cleaner but of the nauseating stench of burned flesh. The walls were pitch black with red sparkles here and there, crackling softly like logs on a fire. Black and white squares composed the floor pattern, with golden letters and numbers drawn near the closed doors overlooking the hallway. Izaya opened one of the doors, and entered a room. It had been painted white and it was artificially lit, since heavy, black curtains hid the only window. Izaya felt like he was suffocating, as though the air here was stale from age.

In the middle of the room there was a blue couch. Sitting on it was, a dark-haired, thin woman.

He approached her and she didn't move, as though she hadn't - or couldn't - seen him. Through the shadows of her bangs, her eyes were closed.

"Mother," he heard himself saying.

He leaned in and brushed her hand, which was hard and cold and lifeless like a marble chess piece. It raised inside of him a kind of blind desperation driven by the need to make her realize his presence. "Mother!" he repeated, his voice turning high-pitched like that of a child. His hands, too, had become smaller when he brushed both her cheeks to tilt her head up so she could look at him.

Her head rolled off, falling backwards on the black and white pattern of the floor with a deafening thump. From the severed neck came smoke instead of blood, thick and black, obliterating the view of the surroundings but for the head laying on the floor.

Suddenly, the head awakened, its eyes were wide open and the lips stretched in a smile that showed sharp teeth, white over the inside of the mouth, red as an open wound.

The head mouthed a name, Shizuo.

He screamed.


Izaya woke up, bolting upright, drenched in sweat and breathing hard through his nose. It took him a while to realize that he wasn't in his room back in the Military Academy nor in the bedroom he shared with Shizuo, but on a small, uncomfortable sofa in a house on a deserted island.

Shinra snored in one corner of the room, curled up in a tartan blanket. Instead of being asleep on the floor, Shizuo sat with his back against the couch. He exhaled, and asked him: "Where is your mother, Izaya?"

Izaya clicked his tongue. "Can't you sleep, Shizu-chan?"

"Is she waiting for you? I've never seen you making phone calls this whole month. Does she know you're alive?"

"It's none of your business."

"You were calling for her in your sleep." Shizuo turned his head to face him. "You had a nightmare, right?"

Izaya shrugged.

"Why are you here, Shizu-chan?"

"Bad dreams," he drawled, while he rubbed his face and ruffled his bleached hair. "Now I can't fall asleep again."

"I see, so what do you want to do? Crosswords? Perhaps Hamasaki-san has a chessboard, who knows," Izaya mumbled, "I would love to thrash you, right now."

"Hmm, wanna go for a walk?"

Izaya thought that, all in all, it wasn't a bad idea - he really needed a breath of fresh air since this stink of paint was making him nauseous, and he was definitely too shaken to fall asleep again. "Fine," he exhaled, draping a blanket over his shoulders.

When he was about to grab the crutches, Shizuo stopped him by taking his hand. "You're gonna wake everyone if you use them," he whispered. "Come here!" Despite Izaya's reluctance to be held bridal style, Shizuo lifted him and carried him outside.

A beam of light came from the lighthouse and swept across the clearing and the dark forest that stretched until the sea. Soft breezes stroked Izaya's face, and he inhaled the salty smell deeply. Once they reached the woods, the air was damp and heavy, the crowns of leaves blotting oxygen together with the warm light coming from the lighthouse.

"Pull out your knife, 'zaya," Shizuo said as they delved deeper into the vegetation. "Can't see where I am going."

The cone of light from the Swiss Army knife was ridiculously small, but it was still better than the light of the moon alone. Izaya thought it was unsettling being carried this way by Shizuo, in the dead of night into a wall of trees and brambles. It felt like deja vu.

"I dreamt of him tonight," Shizuo said with a rough voice. Izaya knew what Shizuo was going to say now; he had always been at the other's side when Shizuo woke up after a nightmare. Shizuo's brows furrowed, as though the words he was going to say now felt bitter on his tongue. "He burned before my eyes and I could do nothing to save him."

"Yeah, I know," Izaya replied, softly.

"I want to kill them," Shizuo whispered in a brittle voice.

"I know," Izaya murmured.

"How can I kill them, Izaya?"

"Hmm, let's see… Well, once you've crossed the wild lands and reached the place where we camped, you have to walk East, through corn fields and small country villages, until you find the wall shielding their Military Academy. It's about ten feet of bricks, with snipers on top ready to kill whomever approaches it without written consent." Shizuo's brows were knitted, and Izaya wondered if he was imagining being there, opening a hole in that wall with the sheer power of his punch alone. "Even if you pass through that wall, though, they're still gonna shoot you. No matter how fast you run, their bullets will reach you. They're trained for this purpose alone."

"I'll kill them before they do it. 'Sides, one or two bullets won't stop me."

Not if they hit you in the head, Izaya thought. Not if they pierce your heart.

The realization came to him in waves, leaving him exposed to the truth that killing Shizuo was so easy. Izaya had always seen him like a superhuman being, like a fighting doll, like a monster but, in end, a shot in the head would be enough to make life leave his body forever. Izaya's fists curled into Shizuo's shirt. His heart stuttered, thoughts tripped over themselves in the awareness that, under the shadow of his blond hair, Shizuo looked human.

"Ah, just do whatever you want," Izaya exhaled, upper lip twitching into a smile. "I don't care if Shizu-chan dies. After you keep the promise you can do whatever you want."

"Yeah, I know that, but-" Shizuo paused and his gaze fell on him, hoping Izaya could complete the sentence in his stead.

There's no but, Shizu-chan, Izaya thought. If Shinra manages to sever the bond between that Dullahan and her head before she calls my name, if I can't become immortal, I-

Izaya shook his head. "It's not fair if you go back on you word," he said, speaking slowly with a deeper tone of voice than usual. "I want you to be the one killing me, Shizu-chan. Not illness, not old age, not some random person." He rested his fingers on Shizuo's chest. "You."

Shizuo muttered under his breath words Izaya didn't catch.

"Don't worry, Shizu-chan," Izaya chirped, his voice becoming louder and louder and higher pitched with every word he spoke. "It won't take much of your time! With that strength of yours you will crush my skull in the twinkling of an eye or even less. Just imagine it - smash!" A clap of hands emphasized the concept; a peal of laughter came immediately after. "Dead! I will be dead! My bones are just like glass in your hands, Shizu-chan!"

A nanosecond after, the laugher withered in Izaya's throat and words rolled off his tongue neutral, devoid of every emotion. "So just do what you gave your word to, and then go and seek vengeance in a suicide mission. Just do whatever you want."

Shizuo looked away, and breathed: "God, sometimes you can be really dense, don't you?"

Izaya burst into laughter. "Eeeeh, what do you mean with this, Shizu-chan?"

For long minutes Izaya waited for an answer, while Shizuo just walked downhill through the forest.

"Pull out a smoke, Izaya," Shizuo said in the end. "Right pocket."

Izaya searched for his packet of American Spirits and placed a cigarette between Shizuo's lips. For a while, he just helped Shizuo's smoking, tapping the ash accumulated on the tip into a package Shizuo used as a pocket ashtray, and then putting the cigarette back between Shizuo's parted lips.

"I tried to throw a refrigerator at Kasuka when I was a kid," Shizuo drawled. Izaya lifted one brow at this unexpected confession. "Y'know, he ate my pudding even though I wrote my name on it. Luckily both my arms broke so I didn't manage to hit him. God, he even called for help and stood by my side while I was at the hospital... He was so much better than me."

Ashes fell on Izaya's stomach, so he took the cigarette from Shizuo's lips and tapped them into the ashtray. "Sometimes I think I'm better off dead, flea, 'cause I think there's no way to get this guilt away from me. And then, what if the people we meet here discover what I am?" Shizuo's lips felt warm and soft when Izaya put the cigarette back into his mouth. "I'm a monster, and I can't change."

Oh, but you've already changed, Shizu-chan. You've changed so much that you look like a stranger to me.

Shizuo looked down at him, tightening his hold a bit, just enough to make Izaya realize how close they were. The moonlight seeped through the trees, touching Shizuo's shoulders and making his golden strands shine.

"Tell me, Izaya," Shizuo asked. "Do you wanna die that badly?"

It slipped through Izaya's lips, carrying with it all the weight of the truth:

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because I want it."

"Why do you think it's over for you?" Shizuo snapped, the cigarette almost slipping through his lips. "Damn, Izaya, if it's because of your fucking pride-"

"Shizuo."

Shizuo was wide-eyed now, and his cheek felt cold under the palm of Izaya's hand. "You gave me your word, Shizuo," Izaya breathed while he watched him straight into his hazel eyes. "You promised."

Shizuo pulled his lower lip between his teeth, and averted his gaze. A shadow hid Shizuo's face now, making it impossible for Izaya to read his features. Silence fell on them, and Izaya took the smoked cigarette to discard it in the pocket ashtray.

"Undress," Shizuo said.

For a moment, the world dropped from beneath Izaya's feet, annihilated by a single word seeping through his skin and resounding in his blood like echo in a cave. His chest heaved, a hysteric snicker escaped his mouth: "What-?"

Every shadow from the forest disappeared from Shizuo's face, revealing his altered expression. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, his lips stretched in the resemblance of a smile. "Undress, Izaya, we're gonna take a swim."

Izaya turned his head.

The moon showed off the dark water, its reflection dancing across the waves breaking on the sand, still damp after the storm. Shizuo helped him sit, then he got undressed, leaving only his boxers on.

Honestly, Izaya was scared. It terrified him, the idea of swimming into the sea, more so in the dead of night. Yet, adrenaline exploded into his system at the idea of doing something that could easily kill him. After all, wasn't this the same sensation he felt every time Shizuo chased after him? God, it was so good feeling his heart hammering with fight or flight instinct. It electrified him, like someone had just given him an intravenous drip of liquid euphoria. This was what made him feel alive. This was his drug. This is what he had missed. A smirk stretched his lips in a sharp bow. And, too, would he ever let his monster understand that he was scared? Never.

After he got undressed, Shizuo pulled him to his feet. He passed Izaya's arm across his own shoulders, the palm of his hand sliding on Izaya's waist, gently. When they reached the waterline, a fringe of sea-foam spread over the sand, wetting their feet. Izaya hissed, not because the water was cold – which it definitely was - but because it took him by surprise. Shizuo's hold became firmer for an instant, squeezing Izaya's waist, leaving him no escape.

When the water reached his waist, Shizuo howled: "Fuck- so cold!"

Izaya tilted his chin up. "Eh, Shizu-chan is such a weakling, I thought it would be way colder! It's not that bad. All in all, it's refreshing."

"Refreshing?" Shizuo burst out laughing. "I can hear your teeth chattering, flea!"

Suddenly, Shizuo jolted. However, it had been Izaya who blurted out: "What?!"

"Hmm, it was just a fish - probably," Shizuo mumbled.

Izaya fought the sheer terror when it rose inside of him, but in few instants he was already getting disconnected from everything else beside his own frantic heartbeat.

"Oi, Izaya," Shizuo said, tightening his hold and searching for Izaya's gaze. "Wanna go back?"

Though his instinct screamed yes, the part of him which enjoyed the idea of an obscure danger hidden in the water made him shook his head. Izaya forced himself to grin, but the tension in Shizuo's hand didn't loosen. The blond monster kept his gaze fixed to Izaya's face, and when he continued, "I can carry you if you're scared", Izaya cursed Shizuo's obnoxious ability to read through his own masks.

"No need to do it, Shizu-chan. See-" Izaya removed Shizuo's arm from his waist. Then he lifted both his hands, and flaunted one of his best mocking smiles.

Shizuo raised one eyebrow. "Sure you're okay, flea?"

"Dead sure, Shizu-chan."

To stress the concept, he tried his best to distance himself from Shizuo. It was easier than he expected. Though it was impossible to run or walk fast, his body felt lighter and it was easy moving around just by jumping and rowing with his hands.

"Can you swim, Izaya?" Shizuo asked, one blond brow raised.

Izaya rolled his eyes. "Of course I can."

"Fine!" Shizuo snapped. "'Cause I'm not gonna save your sorry ass!"

Shizuo's expression widened in surprise when Izaya hit him straight in the face with a water spray he produced with the sole intent of pissing Shizuo off. "It's fine by me!" He mocked.

Izaya smirked when Shizuo turned his head sideways, one brow raised. It was so funny to mess his monster up! Shizuo tilted his chin up and, while watching Izaya in the eye, he grinned.

God, he had missed this so much.

Shizuo pivoted, crafting with the palm of his hand what looked more like a freak wave than a water spray. Izaya managed to avoid it, but barely. Then he giggled and distanced himself even more when Shizuo charged for the next blow, roaring: "Come here, Izayaaaa!" In few steps, the water had reached past his chest, but he was too focused on Shizuo to feel bothered by it. Shizuo tried to hit him again and Izaya went further, until water skimmed his chin.

"Izaya!" Shizuo shouted.

This time, Izaya's name didn't roll from Shizuo's tongue coarse with anger. Izaya understood too late why.

The sea had swelled. A wave reared up, rolling toward him. The water lifted him, pulling the bottom from under his feet. It pushed him toward the shore, and then swallowed him in its utter darkness.

Underwater, everything was quiet.

He felt the efforts of his limbs against the resistance of the silent space around him. He tried to call for help with his mouth closed. The sound vibrated in his bones and then fell quiet. His heart thumped, banged, hammered at his ribcage, trying to get out from his throat as much as the water wanted to get in. His ears couldn't distinguish a single sound. He knew that sound waves propagate much faster in water than in air, so every sound he had made was miles and miles away by now, running into the same nothingness he was struggling into.

What he felt next was a sudden, scorching pain. It was as though a metal pincer had just wrapped around his wrist and squeezed. A scream escaped his mouth, and the water absorbed it.

Then, he felt him.

In the darkness, Shizuo had reached for him. His monster pulled him up and against his chest. When Shizuo brought him out of the water, Izaya coughed across his shoulder. Shizuo tightened his hold, and he mustn't have been controlling his strength because Izaya flinched in pain, and then panted, and coughed once again as he tried to get a solid breath. Shizuo held him so tight that Izaya felt the frantic pounding of Shizuo's heart across his own chest.

The cold air was a shock and Shizuo was shivering, breath escaping his mouth in short bursts as he walked toward the waterline. Izaya clung onto him, the palm of his hands shifting on Shizuo's back, fingers curling, nails scraping the skin, holding on. Izaya buried his head in the crook of Shizuo's neck and hugged him back with the same desperation.

Shizuo sprawled on the sand and Izaya peeled away from him, laying on his back, facing the starry sky above.

Both their gazes cut sideways to catch a glimpse of the other. Shizuo's hair stuck to his face, his eyes were wide open and he was a panting, shivering mess - just like Izaya himself.

It all started with a chuckle escaping Izaya's lips as he coughed, then followed by another, and another again and somehow Shizuo was giggling too, and then they both weren't trying to smother laughs into their hands anymore. Their sides ached. Half naked bodies curled up on the wet sand.

Slowly, they cooled off. Izaya grabbed the blanket to wrap it around his shoulders while Shizuo stood up, shaking his head to dry his hair. The corner of Izaya's mouth stretched and he was going to say that Shizuo reminded him of a dog, when all his thoughts twisted into white noise because Shizuo had just pulled his drenched boxers down to his ankles. Izaya had never seen Shizuo without underwear or a towel around his hips, and had been certain his monster didn't feel at ease enough to undress himself completely. This boldness of his was definitely a recent development; Shizuo was supposed to show his embarrassment through his body language instead of acting so nonchalant… Right?

Shocked, Izaya couldn't look at anything but him - his broad shoulders, the muscles of his long legs taut, trembling just slightly for the cold air, droplets of water trailing down his chest and stomach, down between his legs. Of course Shizuo wasn't a natural blond. His hair was dark there, his limp cock big enough to make Izaya wonder how much longer and thicker it would become when Shizuo was turned on.

Stark naked, Shizuo came closer, crouching down beside him to grab his trousers. "Wanna stay soaked to the bone like that?" Shizuo asked, hazel eyes flashing under his wet strands.

Izaya's eyes sharpened, because in the dim light and after a bath, Shizuo's blond hair looked so much darker and it unsettled him. The contrast with the brown roots wasn't clear anymore, the glistening gold had faded from his hair like Shizuo hadn't just removed himself from his clothes but from his aberrant nature as well. It scared Izaya how the word monster suddenly felt so ephemeral, nothing but cheap dye on chocolate brown strands.

To assure himself that he wasn't hallucinating, Izaya drew his hand over a blond hair tip that had already started to curl.

Shizuo's breathing went uneven. The sense of distance between them faded, wiped away by Izaya's fingers shifting up and tangling in Shizuo's strands. The moment transformed into something Izaya couldn't control anymore - adrenaline pooled in his stomach, electricity rushed between his legs and all rational thoughts displaced with one and only mental image that he refusedto accept. Izaya fantasized about Shizuo taking his wrists, Shizuo taking his mouth, Shizuo taking him. Not as if Izaya was a woman, not if he was the woman Shizuo liked, but himself as a man, rough as if they were still bound by hate, fucking him without preparation so the blinding pain wouldn't let him see the brown roots in Shizuo's hair.

Hazel eyes were wide open now, dark, and looked only at him, with a gaze as sharp as the feeling of Izaya's own heartbeat.

"You need a haircut," Izaya said, removing his hand.

Shizuo kept his eyes on him for a moment more, then he lowered his gaze to the sand. "Don't wanna spend money for that… It's fine as long as I bleach them, I guess?"

Izaya shrugged. It looked like the usual air had settled between them and he felt relieved: everything was still under control. Well, almost, because Shizuo grabbed his trousers and stood up to put them on. They were low on his hipbones, making him look terribly stunning.

"Wanna cut it?" Shizuo asked, hinting a grin.

"Eh? Now?"

"No, idiot." Shizuo chuckled, and kneeled down at Izaya's back to start blotting the black hair with his own shirt. Izaya couldn't see what expression was on his face now, but Shizuo wasn't laughing anymore when he added: "You made me worry."

Izaya opened his mouth to retort that it was Shizuo's own fault because he was only trying to avoid his water sprays, but the words only slurred through his lips because Shizuo had just pinched his cheeks and started stretching them, as though he was playing with a kid. Shizuo tilted Izaya's back, and they faced each other.

"You were supposed to swim, instead of sinking like a fricking stone!" Shizuo blurted out while he played with Izaya's cheeks, stretching and squishing them as if to emphasize every word he spoke.

Shizuo's face looked funny, upside down as it was now, and Izaya giggled. "I was going to resurface even without your help, Shizu-chan," he drawled. "Anyway, do you really trust me that much, to let me cut your hair?!"

Thin horizontal lines appeared on Shizuo's forehead, and immediately after he turned his head sideways to escape Izaya's gaze. "Shut up," he breathed. It was hard to tell it in the dim light, but it looked as though his cheeks were red. Izaya's cheeks prickled too, but he swore it was just because Shizuo had messed with them.

"I'm very flattered, you know," Izaya mocked.

"Knock it off already!" Shizuo blurted out, trying to seize a bit of the blanket that Izaya had wrapped around his back. "C'mon, make room for me too."

"Eh? Forget it."

"I'm freezing, Izaya! Don't be an ass, give me a bit of this fucking blanket!"

"No waaaay!" Izaya chirped, sticking out the tip of his tongue.

He squealed when Shizuo lifted the blanket on Izaya's back and tried to slip his head inside of it. Shizuo's hair tickled Izaya's back. He squirmed, elbowing Shizuo's head and chest. Shizuo growled, but still didn't give up. Izaya shouted when Shizuo bit him on his side. Though Shizuo supposedly did it out of vengeance, it didn't hurt. It reminded Izaya of the way kittens play, but it tickled like hell and Izaya roared with laughter. Shizuo bit him again and Izaya cracked up. He still tried to fight back but his blows were too messy, barely hitting and inducing more giggles than growls. Shizuo tickled him, and their laughter came in loud bursts, then rolled like the waves breaking on the sand, again and again, until the night was quiet again.

In the end, Shizuo managed to gain his share of the blanket. Tousled hair framed both their flushed faces and their breathing was labored. They lay down now, Shizuo hugging him from behind, keeping the blanket on both of them.

Shizuo held Izaya's chin still with his fingers, to let his lips linger on the nape of Izaya's neck. Scarlet eyes widened when Shizuo's teeth grazed the skin. Shizuo hummed, and bit him there. Izaya's mouth opened in a silent moan. It didn't hurt, and probably Shizuo was just playing like before, but it felt raw, an assertion of dominance provoking enough to make Izaya's cock twitch in his soaked boxers.

"Izaya," Shizuo breathed as he spooned him, his nose tickling Izaya's ear. "Does it hurt if I hold you like this?"

Izaya's brows were furrowed, both from the bite and because the hesitant press of Shizuo's chest across his bare back was impossible to ignore. Though, he shook his head.

Shizuo tightened the hold a bit more, the palm of his hand shifted down from Izaya's chin to his chest, searching for his hand.

"And like this?" Shizuo asked, and despite he sounded hesitant, his voice deep and sultry.

Izaya swallowed, his gaze fixed on an indefinite spot in the horizon. He shook his head once again.

Shizuo tightened the hold a bit more, shifting against him, intertwining their fingers. "'Night." Shizuo's lips stretched into a smile across the nape of Izaya's neck before he kissed him there. Izaya closed his eyes against it.

The tide hummed, waves broke on the shore with the same rhythm of Shizuo's breath, wide with sleep, and Izaya forced himself to relax against the hug.

Izaya knew that with the first streams of morning light he would regret allowing this proximity. Shame would come and self-hatred would torment him, but until he ceased being human he couldn't stop himself from wanting it, from wanting him: Shizu-chan, the man with whom he shared a house, a past of hatred and a future of death, the man with a crush on an older woman, the former soldier and current bartender, a fighting machine yet so unexpectedly caring and sweet.

Fake blond.

Fake monster.

He breathed out and squeezed Shizuo's hand back, ever so slightly. "Goodnight," he mouthed.


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