The morning dawned on a sky packed full of grey clouds - too cold for the seaside, too gloomy to stay home all day long with Alfred on his lap. Shizuo decided to help Kyouko in the bakery shop.
While he checked that the cinnamon buns in the oven wouldn't overbake, he ended up thinking about the mysteries and wonders of culinary science. How could it be, that from yeast, flour and a few other ingredients – he didn't know the details yet – sprung that goodness rising from their pots in swirls of golden and brown? Damn, it was fascinating to think about.
The sound of the bell tinkling as the front door opened disrupted his train of thought.
"'Coming," he said. He strode back beyond the counter to see two men in their late fifties entered the shop.
One of the men wasn't a regular customer in the shop or in the pub, so for Shizuo he was a stranger, while the other was Itou-and-something, the owner of the minimart (also known as the man who stunk of booze even at eight in the morning). They saw him and started chuckling under their breath. Though it was annoying, Shizuo was used to never passing unnoticed, be it for his height or blond hair or superhuman strength. While staring at him alone left him more or less unmoved, however, staring at him while laughing was a whole different matter.
"Got a problem?" Shizuo snorted.
"We heard the good news. Congrats," Itou-and-something said in a cracked voice, the corners of his mouth stretching in a lopsided grin.
"What good news?"
"Come on, no need to keep it a secret. Everyone knows about you two sweethearts. We dropped by to say that we're happy that Kyouko-chan finally got herself a man. We all had lost hope for her to settle down. At thirty-five, you know…"
"What the hell," Shizuo said. "If you're not here as costumers, you better fuck off."
"Ain't you a rude fellow? We're just glad that someone didn't leave Kyouko-chan on the shelf!"
Shizuo clenched his fists and bared his teeth and breathed in and breathed out and counted down to ten—Fuck that. He was ready to hit them, squash them and grind them and fucking kill them dead! Anger crept in Shizuo's voice. "Fuck. Off."
The two men had just walked outside the shop muttering complaints when Kyouko reached Shizuo with a baking tray full of cinnamon buns, her round spectacles still fogged with heat.
"Was it about that rumor again?" She asked.
"Yeah."
"Are you alright?"
He bit on his inner cheek and tasted blood.
"Yeah," he said, even if he wasn't alright at all.
His temper was a ticking time bomb with an unknown countdown. The timer was latched to the sound of his heartbeat without a chance to dismantle it. Maybe there was one second left before he fucked everything up, maybe one month, who knew. The point was that sooner or later, even the people in the village would make him fly into a rage, and the sound of screams and bones breaking under his fists would run through the narrow alleys, pour from the windows, squeeze under the shut doors, seep into the walls and reach everyone. The whole village would acknowledge his true nature.
Shizuo's good mood from observing the process of baking sweets didn't last any longer than a cinnamon bun would last in his mouth.
Not that he was in a perfect mood to begin with. He had woken with the sheets in a knot around his legs, and aside from a graphic dream about Kasuka, he hadn't slept a wink. Either both brands of sleeping pills Shinra prescribed him were useless, or there must be something wrong with him. Shizuo's stomach was knotted up, but it wasn't out of hunger because no matter how many shitty meals he ate or how much milk he drank, he didn't get better. Those dark shadows under his eyes, the healing cuts inside his cheeks and his bitten nails, the ashtray overfilled with cigarette butts on the entry door were all proof positive that he must be sick for sure.
When he had explained the symptoms to Shinra, the doctor had smiled and said: "So he hasn't come home yet."
"To hell with that goddamned flea," Shizuo had mumbled.
Though Shizuo said he didn't care for the louse, his mind tripped on itself in a constant search for any sign of Izaya. Shizuo saw him in the strangers he met, in the lonely souls sitting in the deserted seaside, in a shadow through the villagers he crossed path with. He heard him in Alfred's purrs and in the sound of steps outside when he tossed and turned in bed. He smelled him in the scent of coffee and in the quiet of early mornings.
"To hell," Shizuo said out loud. He put his hands in his pockets and his fingers caught on the Swiss Army knife Izaya had left at home. Shizuo couldn't part with it. Funny. It became a kind of lucky charm and he'd never been superstitious in the first place - the talisman Tom gave him after his first day of work to protect him from the wild lands was still in some drawer, neglected. Shizuo's fingers curled across the cheap plastic covering the knife's handle and his heart thrummed in his chest.
The portion of sky in the East had turned dark when he reached Tom's pub. He greeted Tom, walked over the counter and here he checked the stock, made sure there was enough ice, set all the tools he needed - the waiter's friend, the bar blade opener, the Boston shaker - reviewed the names of the beers on tap and the recipes for the most requested cocktails.
"Is there something bothering you?" Tom asked.
"Yeah- No. Well, I don't know."
"Do you want to—" It took few moments for Tom to choose the words. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Shizuo ran a hand into his hair. "Dunno if I can choose the words, you know. Messy stuff. I guess it's the weather. It's gotten cold, huh?" He rinsed some limes under the pouring water, then grabbed a knife, fingers curling across the handle. "I also… there's someone I haven't seen for a while. Or, yanno, heard from them or anything."
"Oh." Tom adjusted his glasses. "Relationship problems."
"I guess so."
"I'm sorry about that." Tom averted his gaze and started shifting uncomfortably on his feet. His voice grew low, wavering a bit. "By the way, I didn't know if I should talk about this since you never mentioned it before, but I heard about you and Satou Kyouko. I don't know much about women, but I'll try to help."
"That's a rumor that is going on recently, but that's not true. We're just friends."
"Oh, I see." Tom paused, as though he was holding back. "Well, whoever it is, something's bothering you. What happened?"
Help me find him, was the first thing that passed through Shizuo's mind. Yet, he tore his thoughts away from Izaya. He was at work, for fuck's sake, and this mess was between Izaya and him, he didn't want other people involved. Besides, he knew that Izaya would show up only if he decided to; mobilizing the whole village wouldn't change anything. If the flea wanted to hide, he was as good as vanished into thin air. "It's no big deal," he said in the end. "Thanks anyway."
It was a Saturday and within a few hours the pub had filled with people to such an extent that Tom had to stow his sax in the back room to help his employees to keep up with the orders, leaving Kadota Kyouhei, Yumasaki Walker and Togusa Saburo to entertain the audience with their jazz trio. Erika was the usual loud fan. Shizuo massaged his stomach. The knot got tighter and tighter, until it felt like anger. Or heartburn.
Erika elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey! Look there!" She nodded at a black-haired man who had just entered the pub. In the dim light and through the crowd, he resembled Izaya all around. Even at a glance, though, Shizuo was sure that man wasn't Izaya. Izaya wore black v-neck shirts and black slacks – they had bought them together in an expensive little shop because Izaya refuse to wear the colorful, cheap clothes that the bargain bins at the minimart had to offer. The stranger wore a burgundy tuxedo with black lapels, a white shirt and a slim, black necktie instead. For a place like Tom's pub, he was totally overdressed.
"I think he got in the wrong place," Erika said."Damn, he's perfection in a suit. He could bend every straight guy out there. What do you think, Shizu-Shizu? Top, bottom, switch? I bet he would be a power top, probably quite an S too—GOD! Imagine him dressed like that, holding a whip after he'd blindfolded and tied and totally neglected you. I bet he's got quite a commanding touch. He would yank at your hair, trail the whip up your thighs while whispering dirty stuff across your lips – because he must be into dirty talking, right?" Then she laughed, low-pitched and menacing. "Yeah, he is."
Tom adjusted his glasses. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear anything."
Shizuo hadn't paid attention to her, or his face would have matched a Bloody Mary already. He was too busy eyeing the man with the burgundy tux as he approached the counter. As the stranger made his way through the crowd, people turned toward him, and Shizuo wondered if the bright sensation he felt was linked to some kind of attraction or, more likely, the fact that the stranger was dressed in such a flashy way that Shizuo couldn't look anywhere else.
It took Shizuo few moments to realize that the young man in the burgundy tux had a familiar head of glossy back hair, the piercing scarlet eyes had a familiar shape, the shoulders a familiar width, and the lips were stretched in a familiar smirk. Over the starched shirt collar, the man's neck was littered with almost healed, familiar hickeys. The man sat on the stool, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned his head on his bent arm.
"Hi, Shizu-chan," Orihara Izaya said.
There was a moment where Shizuo's thoughts fractured into smithereens, followed immediately by heat spreading from his ears to toes, his heartbeat fluttering. Then, thin fissures propagated in the marble counter where Shizuo'd been clenching at it. "Fucking bastard," he hissed. "Where have you been?!"
When Izaya leaned closer, lips stretched in a mischievous smile, Shizuo recognized Izaya's scent like the first hints of autumn.
"Shizu-chan?" Shizuo heard Erika asking. "Do you know each other?"
"Of course we do," Izaya said, maintaining unwavering eye contact with Shizuo even when he tilted his chin up a little. "We've known each other for quite a long time."
Erika giggled. "And what is the relationship between you two?"
"We live together," Izaya answered with a self-satisfied grin on his face, not bothering to look her way.
Erika's boisterous reaction made Shizuo felt like he had just come out of a three hours long sauna. Izaya's gaze lasted for a full second more. Then he broke it off to turn toward a dumbfounded Tom, who after a moment of stunned silence, commented, "I didn't know you lived with anyone."
"He's Izaya," Shizuo said.
Izaya flaunted a dashing smile. "A pleasure to meet you. Thank you for taking care of Shizu-chan."
"Well, he's good at his job. I'm Tanaka."
Izaya's voice was low and pleasant when he responded, "Nice to make your acquaintance, Tanaka-san. I'm glad to meet you at last. Shizu-chan talks about you all the time."
Tom scratched the back of his head. "I hope he didn't complain too much…"
"He didn't! Quite the contrary. He adores you."
"Izaya…"
"Don't get all flustered like that, Shizu-chan! There's nothing wrong with liking your job! You gave him the best job of his life, Tanaka-san! He even bought books to get better at bartending, and we both know that Shizu-chan is not the book type of guy—"
"Izaya!"
"-And it wasn't for show, he actually read them!"
Shizuo hid his face in his hands, trying to blow off steam.
"Oh. Well, that's good, I guess," Tom responded in his soft-spoken voice. His eyes brightened, eyebrows lifted, and then his lips twitched before curving upward just a little, as though he'd uselessly tried to fight back one of his rare smiles.
Quite the opposite, the flea had never been sparing in his smiles; he had a whole set of them - the smug, the professional, the polite, the charming, the annoying – that he liked to flaunt frequently. That said, a fake smiles jar looked like an inspired idea, since most of Izaya's smiles were as fake as Shizuo's hair color. Just like Shizuo's blonde locks, though, those smiles always obtained the desired effect. When Izaya leaned on the counter and beamed, Tom's smile deepened a bit.
Even after Izaya had drank half the beer he had ordered, he and Tom continued that rather embarrassing small-talk. Shizuo heard Izaya saying, "There are some rumors going on about the awkward circumstance you two met under. Sailors, hmm?"
Tom didn't reply immediately. Shizuo saw him swallowing. "Yes. A whole bunch. I'm lucky he intervened there."
"Shizu-chan fights like a pro, right? POW!" Izaya's fake punch only brushed Shizuo's chest, and yet managed to send shivers all over his spine.
"Yeah, he's impressive. Now, if you don't mind-" Tom headed toward the back door, pulling out his package of cigarettes. Izaya waved at him.
"How the hell did you know that, 'zaya?" Shizuo hissed. "That sailors thing."
"Rumors." A smile played on Izaya's lips. "Are you angry at me?"
"You disappeared for eight fucking days."
"Come on, what should have I done after you started acting so bizarrely?"
"I don't know - the usual stuff? Stabbed me?"
"If only I had a proper knife to cut through your exoskeleton."
"Cut through my what?!"
"Tell me, Shizu-chan-" Izaya tilted his chin up and his dark eyelashes fluttered. Then Izaya moved into Shizuo's personal space across the marble counter, so close that Shizuo's heart kicked. The chuckle that followed was warm and soft enough to send chills throughout Shizuo's body. "Should have I kissed you back?"
Yes, damn it, he should have. It would have unburdened Shizuo from fantasizing day and night about how it might have happened. Though Shizuo didn't say that. He tried to be indifferent, it wasn't a good idea to let the flea understand how much influence he had. Though he made the huge mistake to break the eye contact to stare at Izaya's mouth, and his mind has already placed their lips together. His thoughts went blank. He leaned closer, and Izaya's breath faltered.
"Oi, bartender."
Shizuo backed off. A man of impressive bulk sat two stools from Izaya's. He looked at Izaya from head to toe and licked his lips. "Nice suit," he said. Izaya raised one eyebrow.
"Your order?" Shizuo growled.
When the man looked at him, Shizuo had the impression he had already seen him before. From the bulk Shizuo thought of the army, but a soldier in this tiny village didn't make any more sense than a man dressed like a movie star in a pub.
The man bent forward, a grin on his face, as if something good were about to happen. "You didn't forget about me, don't you?" He clicked his tongue. "Too bad if you did."
The man started fiddling with something, but the counter didn't allow Shizuo to see it. Izaya did though, and his face was now flash-frozen in shock. The man wore a pair of round spectacles on his face. He peered over them, tilting his head forwards, the light metal frames gliding down a nose that reminded Shizuo of pieces of a broken vase that had been badly put together. Shizuo has seen noses like that before, on faces that had met his fist once but come back for more. Shizuo's heart was beating fit to burst. Those glasses were too small to fit the man's face, made for someone of slighter stature, and Shizuo cursed his bad memory because he remembered he'd seen them somewhere, on someone.
"Oh, my," the man said. "That's so rude of you, to forget after all the shit you pulled us through. Though we thought of you quite a lot, you know, while we got dozens of stitches and wore casts for our broken bones. All because of that dreadlock guy's skinny ass… We didn't even care about him. Anyway, now it's our time to make you remember about us, don't you agree?"
Okay, this was subtle as a gun pointed at his head. But those glasses, where the hell had he seen them?
A cruel sneer formed on the man's face.
"We've got your girlfriend, fuckboy."
Shizuo broke through the pub's front door. His knuckles hurt. His hand was still curled up in a blood stained fist. He ran.
In the narrow alleys, the air smelled of the moisture that comes before the rain, of baked-earth smell rising from the hills, and salty wind blowing from the sea. Though there was another smell - a stench - that knotted Shizuo's stomach in a wave of nausea. It was the tang of unwashed males, cheap booze and incoming violence.
He strode down the square that lead to Kyouko's shop and saw a group of at least twenty men under the "Satou Bakery" sign. He approached them and they encircled him, roaring with laugher.
They poked him in the chest with a metal bat and, unexpectedly, Shizuo didn't react. His attention was all on Kyouko standing in the dark shop, bare feet, dressed only in a nightgown and an oversized cardigan. Her arms and feet beat against the two men holding her. Shizuo barely recognized her face without the round spectacles and wearing an expression that Shizuo had never seen on her before. That flare of her features wasn't fear. It was anger. Her eyes locked with Shizuo's, and Shizuo knew she'd recognized him. She shouted his name, he thought. He wasn't sure. He couldn't hear anything above the deafening beat of his heart.
"I swear," Shizuo breathed. "You're all dead."
His fist slammed on bone and followed through with all his weight behind it. Shizuo heard the sound of a jaw breaking and a warm liquid splashed on his shirt. He dodged his opponents' blows and returned with his own, swinging another set of wild punches that sent two of them flying in the air and wailing in pain on the ground.
When he felt rage thrumming in his veins, Shizuo realized he wasn't afraid as he expected to be. It was as though for all this time he had dreaded entering a room, just to figure out he had crossed the threshold already. He grinned. God, he took so much pleasure in taking these fuckers down. He muttered and growled and shouted that he wanted them smashed, shattered, demolished. He wouldn't leave anything of them to put in a grave, not even their ashes.
Then he made the stupid mistake to turn towards Kyouko, and saw the expression on her face. She had placed her chalky white fingers over her parted lips, and her eyes were wide open in an unblinking stare - although she was looking straight at Shizuo, it was as though she wasn't seeing him for real.
Shizuo waited for the moment where shock would melt, when her brain would reboot and begin to buzz with memories about what she'd witnessed, and hypothesize all the possible rational explanations until, unmistakably, she would find the answer in a single word.
Monster.
He stood there, unable to look away, trying to get a solid breath. The next moment he found himself on the ground. Sharp pain jolted against the back of his head. Blood gushed from his hair down to his forehead and then he was blinded. He heard a chorus of laughter and the sound of the metal bat rattling on cobblestones before hitting his skull once, twice, thrice, with smothering heaviness. Yet, he still struggled to get on his feet. Pain was an illusion that he could bear, he thought. He must shut it out and fight back.
"Hush, boy," Shizuo heard, along with the unmistakable sound a security catch being removed. Then there was something cold pressed against his temple. He knew it was a gun. "It's over. Look there."
The sight of a blade shining across Kyouko's neck kicked Shizuo's heart into his throat.
"You fought pretty well. You ever thought of prizefighting?" Shizuo jolted at the boisterous laugh that followed. "Too bad. It's too late now, fuckboy. You're dead. Fucking dead. Don't move or she's dead too. Now you tell me, do you have a death wish?"
No, he didn't. He wanted to live.
He couldn't keep track of all the stuff going on his head, much less choose what he wished for the most. He wanted a smoke, yes. Kill all these bastards, too. He wanted to save Kyouko. He wished to know what happened to Kasuka – where and how he died, and craved the most painful death for those who dared to hurt his little brother. Though the moment his brain had grasped the meaning of "death wish," Shizuo hadn't thought of any of this. He'd thought of Izaya. Even now, Shizuo was thinking of him.
This pissed him off even more. Why did he think of Izaya when he had to figure out a way to save Kyouko's life? He mustn't think of Izaya…
He must think like Izaya!
"Wait," Shizuo spat out. "Let's talk!"
"Talk? Yeah, sure why not. Let's talk this out. Call your attorney, will you?"
There was more laugher and Shizuo knew he was in deep shit. He'd never been a smooth talker, he let his fists speak in his stead. He didn't delude himself that he could convince them to leave, though talking was a better option than Kyouko's carotid being sliced, so he forced calmness into his voice and said, "Let her go."
"Or what?"
-Or I kill you?
Shizuo had the feeling that Izaya wouldn't ever say that. I gotta keep him talking, he thought. Nothing passed through his mind beside some pretty creative death threats. His breath was ragged with anger, his head pounded, nails dug into the palm of his hand.
"I've got a better idea, fuckboy. You get to see her die. Bring her here."
"No, wait—" Shizuo shouted before they hit him again. Then they pulled him up by his hair, and the metal from the gun dug deeper into his skin.
When he reopened his eyes, Kyouko stood in front of him, trembling all over. The color had drained from her face. He averted his gaze before he had to see the look in her eyes.
"Don't you fucking dare," Shizuo heard himself growling.
All the men laughed. All but one. He commanded, "Kill her."
Shizuo squeezed his eyes shut. He shouted. Or cried, maybe. Or both. He couldn't tell.
Instead of Kyouko's last scream, he heard the sound of steel hitting the cobblestones. He opened his eyes. There was no blood on her neck and her arms were free. The blade lay on the ground at her feet, shortly followed by the man that was holding it, slumped on the ground on his stomach and yelling obscenities as jets of blood spurted from his scapula.
"Good god, this is a knife," Shizuo heard.
A figure stood behind the man on the ground. As he sauntered forward, under the lamppost's light, all the eyes flickered to the blood pooling at the tip of his switchblade. It matched the fabric of his tux and the color of his eyes.
"You've lost your touch, Shizu-chan," he said. "How disappointing."
Despite everything, Shizuo smiled.
The next moment, the sailors flew at Izaya, and Shizuo knew that there was a bullet he must dodge. He swung around, grabbed the forearm of the man holding the gun and broke it in two like it was a breadstick. The gun fired, bouncing off the ground. Far in the distance, Shizuo heard the shouts of the villagers that had gathered in the square and observed the fight unfolding from the distance.
In seconds, Shizuo had sent five men flying in the air and Izaya had stabbed three. Shizuo spotted him slicing his enemies, vaulting light and elegant, unerring despite his injured knee. Then Izaya jumped on the belly of one of the men that he'd cut across the chest, laughing like a kid. Their lines of sight met and that cocky little flea flashed him one of his smirks. Shizuo's heart kicked, and he knew that this time it had nothing to do with rage.
Izaya broke the gaze to dodge the metal bat that fell towards him. It still managed to hit his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Izaya flinched and got back on his feet. Shizuo's anger flooded out all at once in a war cry. He punched the man holding the bat and sent him arcing skyward and into the shop window, which shattered into smithereens.
Shizuo stood frozen, panting. Someone charged at him from the right, and Shizuo grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him over the rooftops. At his back, he heard the high-pitched scream of a man who just had the pleasure of meeting Izaya's switchblade. The flea laughed, then said, "Too bad you were the last! I was enjoying myself."
Then only the sound of rain, just beginning to fall, was left. The fight was over.
It took Shizuo a while to digest what had happened – long, bitter moments that left his tongue soaking in something more caustic than his own blood. He was panting and his skin felt wet with sweat and blood and rain and tears. He saw Kyouko trembling on the ground. At her back, her shop was a mess of shattered glasses and broken wooden boards. She tilted her chin up, and their gazes locked. Idiot, he said to himself. He averted his eyes and walked away.
"Hey!" she said, her voice rising. "Why are you leaving?"
This is who I am, he wanted to say. And this is what I'm supposed to do.
He thought that he was like the rain - he stood as much of a chance of changing his nature as the raindrops did of learning to ascend from the earth back to the clouds.
Kyouko's hands wrapped across his forearm. He turned toward her, saw the mist of rain flattening her curls across her face and washing away the blood from the cuts she bore everywhere, from neck to toes. She was so small yet there was an unspeakable strength in the way she said, "Stay."
He didn't hug her back when she draped her arms across his stomach, so lightly he barely felt the contact. It looked like she was the one consoling him, gentle like a mother, not blaming him even after ending up hurt and her shop destroyed– all his fault.
"Hey," she whispered across his chest, softly. "Thank you."
What happened next remained fuzzy in his memory, like a waking dream. The tang of blood was making him nauseous and he felt weaker and weaker with each breath he took. He brought his hand to his head, and he touched the warm liquid pouring out.
He realized he hadn't slumped on the ground because he was leaning across two pairs of shoulders – one narrow and bony, the other broader and belonging to a taller person. He rested his cheek across silky hair that smelled so familiar, and he snuggled there even as the owner kept complaining that Shizuo was bleeding all over him.
"Let's clear this out," Shizuo heard. "I'm billing you for the cost of dry-cleaning, Shizu-chan."
Shizuo curled his hand across Izaya's waist. He squeezed him lightly, and Izaya's body stiffened with tension. With the last drop of energy he had before his mind blacked out, Shizuo giggled.
"You flea bastard," he said. "I missed you so much."
From the darkness of his unconsciousness, Shizuo woke to a cerulean, cloudless sky. His vision was dim, it flickered around the edges before it gradually grew clearer and made him realize that he was facing an unknown ceiling. He was laying on a bed that felt too hard and narrow to be his own. Strange, he thought. He didn't remember falling asleep at all.
He started to distinguish the hum of voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying, and then pain pierced through him like needles at the corners of his eyes. He clutched at his head and his fingers caught on the softness of the gauze. After that, his self-awareness kicked in.
On one side of him were Kyouko, Tom, Shinra, on the other Kadota, Erika, Yumasaki and Togusa.
"It's okay," Kyouko said. "Don't stand up yet."
"How are you?" Shizuo mumbled.
"I'm fine. I got away with some superficial scratches."
"This mess happened because of me," he breathed.
"It's not your fault! They were looking for a way to make you pay after the last time you fought them, to save Tanaka's life. They could have taken everyone else you hold dear."
"Where is Izaya?"
"He was here a moment ago," Tom said. "He fights pretty well too…"
"Where did he go?"
"I don't know. He said goodbye and went away. He was in a rush, I think."
Seven pairs of hands tried to stop him when he stood up, but even injured, they weren't enough. His head pounded, he breathed, "He's hurt! I saw someone hitting him." Then he turned toward Shinra. "Did you treat him?"
"He kept repeating he was fine and refused to let me check," Shinra replied. "He had your blood everywhere though. And he said that it was his father's tux and it should cost about two months of your pay as a bartender. Though I'm sure that he was joking and— Where are you going?!"
"Gotta find him!"
Outside the rain was incessant. It swept across his face, soaked his clothes and the bandage on his head and streamed from his hair down his jaw that he held tensed to not let the teeth chatter. The wind whipped at his face like it was made of splinters of ice, but he didn't care. His eyes darted to the dark sky. He sniffed around, paused, and then sprinted into an alleyway.
When he stopped running, Shizuo was dripping wet. A few hundred steps at his back was the sea, ahead there was the hill and the road heading home – houses on one side, handrail on the other, the rain-slick asphalt stretching between them. In a dead end alley at his left, leaning against a wall, there was Izaya. The fabric of his burgundy tux was speckled with rain, the white shirt was stained with Shizuo's blood. He didn't wear his necktie anymore.
"What are you doing here?" Shizuo asked.
"I'm waiting for the rain to stop."
"Here?!"
"I was heading home. I'd been caught in the downpour."
"I saw that fucker hitting you. Let me see." He reached out and Izaya jerked away. "Fuck your pride, flea. Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Izaya said.
"No, you're not. Let me see."
"Very well," Izaya exhaled, and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a collarbone and a perfectly sculpted white shoulder marred only by a bruise that would take some ice packs and few days to heal. Shizuo knew he'd done far worse to Izaya in previous fights. Izaya sent him a defiant look. "See?"
For a moment Shizuo was distracted by the raindrops rolling on Izaya's skin. He wanted to touch him. Then, Shizuo's wandering gaze met Izaya's.
"Fine," Shizuo mumbled and leaned against the wall beside Izaya, the rain like a shield around them.
Shizuo put his hands in his pockets, and his fingers caught on the cheap plastic of Izaya's toy knife. "I know that you've got that brand new switchblade now, but this is yours." He put the Swiss Army knife in the palm of Izaya's hand. "Y' know, for the first time ever I was glad you had a real knife in your pockets."
"You're welcome, Shizu-chan."
"How are you?"
"I'm great."
Shizuo wished his heart would stop beating so fast because there were so many things he wanted to ask Izaya now, but all the thoughts snarled on his tongue and he couldn't decide what to say.
Izaya spoke first. "Shizu-chan, this is your night. People are talking, you know. They said it was the most romantic thing ever seen in the village, you fighting all those people with bare hands to save her. Like a hero! There was a deus ex machina – a.k.a. me – too. Woo-ho. So exciting."
"I don't know what that's supposed to mean, but thank you."
"Hmm-hmm. You must feel relieved that she accepted you as you are."
"I wish it would be that easy."
"Isn't it easy?"
"I don't know, I just want to run away."
"Why should you do that?! She saw the worst part of you and she wasn't even scared. She hugged you, and thanked you, and asked you to stay. I wonder, what are you doing here at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on, go back to the shop, ask her out and, well, you should know the rest."
"I don't understand."
"Good god, you're so slow. This is the right time to confess that you have a thing for her and, you know what, it's mutual."
"Please, Izaya, not you too…"
Izaya clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I had the pleasure to see you two together. That rumor spread because everyone saw how lovey-dovey you two are."
"She's precious to me, but not in that sense. And for her it's the same. Besides- Ah, fuck. It's hard to say it."
"Don't bother to find the words," Izaya exhaled, then he stepped into the pouring rain. "I won't come home tonight, I'm going to sleep at Shinra's just in case you two guys need some time together."
Shizuo seized his wrist. Izaya stiffened, and his expression shuttered closed.
"What now?" Izaya said, his voice frosty.
"Gotta tell you something."
Shizuo breathed in, breathed out. He searched for the words, the right ones. Like those in the movies.
"Come on, just get over with it and let me go." Izaya's voice was raspy and dark. His chest was heaving, and his lower lip was wet with rain, red from how he had been biting at it.
Shizuo hadn't chosen the words yet. Eloquence had never been his forte. Izaya was the one good at talking; he was the chess master, a cultured, successful strategist. He was even able to finish crosswords without taking a peek at the solution page! Shizuo was just a former soldier, a bartender that sometimes worked in a bakery shop-
"Hey, Izaya. Do you know something about baking sweets?"
Izaya watched him like Shizuo had just spoke gibberish. "I'm going," he cut short.
"No, listen. When you bake sweets - cinnamon buns for example - at first you mix the ingredients in a jumble, and when you put that stuff in the oven, believe me, that doesn't look like a cake at all! But then every ingredient combines with the other and the result is something you would have never imagined. It's like a miracle. Something similar happened to me about my opinion of you – of us too. Did you get what I'm trying to say?"
"That you like cinnamon buns?"
"Not at all!"
"So I'm not following you."
"It took me a while to recognize it. I like being with you, Izaya-"
"-But?"
"There's no but, flea." Shizuo allowed himself to shiver, and from the wet cobblestones he lifted his gaze to Izaya's face. Their eyes caught and held. "I love you."
Underneath the dark sky, in the dead end alley, the rain soaked them through. For a moment, Shizuo swore that the cracks in Izaya's mind had become visible – they started from the fold between his eyebrows and trailed down his face that looked pale like a sheet of ice.
Izaya reduced the few inches between them until the tips of their noses barely touched. "Shizu-chan," he whispered. Flash-frozen, Shizuo didn't move, nor speak nor breathed. "You poor thing. My love is for everyone but you."
Izaya averted his gaze and smirked, though the corners of his mouth were tensed in effort, like the limbs of a weightlifter while holding a heavy barrel above his head. Shizuo wondered how strenuous it was for Izaya to prevent his smile to drop into a sincere expression, how hard Izaya was trying to conceal his thoughts, disregard emotions that Shizuo could almost smell on Izaya's skin, mixed with some expensive cologne and beer and a scent that belonged to Izaya only - a dark fragrance.
Izaya's cheeks felt cold and wet when Shizuo cupped them to make Izaya look at him. When he did that Izaya's eyes grew dark and huge and angry. "I don't care. I don't want to be loved like you love all humanity," Shizuo said, tongue tripping, voice far from being as tough as he wished it to be. "You want everyone to believe that you are a hell of a jerk, but I think I came to know you beside the masks you wear to hide who you are. You've been like a friend to me - Okay, maybe more than a friend. You're caring and loyal. Gentle. You taught me how to pet Alfred. You held my hand after those nightmares. You slept in my arms. You said you liked what I did to you, and, well, I liked doing those things to you."
"Enough." Izaya pressed the palm of his hand on Shizuo's mouth. "I liked you more when you shouted that you want me dead." Then Izaya's lips stretched in a fake smile that wasn't enough to conceal the emotions that flowed through his eyes - fear, anger, obsession, desire. Desire. When Shizuo recognized that last one, he ran his hand on the small of Izaya's back and closed his eyes.
Shizuo surged forward in what would have been a kiss if it hadn't been for Izaya's hand between their lips. It was the dumbest almost kiss ever, and he thought that Izaya would make fun of him for that but Izaya exhaled all of a sudden and didn't move. Shizuo kissed the palm of Izaya's hand, and Izaya's hold grew soft. Izaya exhaled in a short burst when Shizuo nibbled at his index finger and ran the tip of his tongue over it. Shizuo opened his eyes to meet Izaya's and held on to him as Izaya's facade fell apart, red eyes going dark and electric.
Izaya's hand shifted to cup his cheek.
It was a startling sensation, feeling that there was nothing between them now, just few, changing inches made of their mixed breath and raindrops and Izaya's will. Shizuo saw Izaya's eyes move to his lips, and couldn't resist darting his eyes lower as well to look at Izaya's lips parting slightly. Izaya pushed Shizuo's hair back, his breath rising, and Shizuo blessed the wall at his back keeping him on his feet, because all his superhuman strength had given way leaving his body all shaking and trembling like it was a reflection of the ever-shifting sea.
"Damn it, Izaya," Shizuo said. "I like the way you touch me."
"God, Shizu-chan, just shut the fuck up."
Izaya grabbed Shizuo's hair, yanked, and crashed their lips together as rain shattered on the ground. Shizuo had just enough time to close his eyes before Izaya took his mouth in a rough, demanding kiss. There was no room for doubt now, none at all. This wasn't Izaya trying this out or teasing him or whatever. Izaya was kissing him, and Shizuo was kissing him back.
Izaya tasted like rain and beer and his lips were cold, but kissing him felt like a sunbath, so hot and full. All of Shizuo was melting in soft fire. He just groaned. As soon as the sound left Shizuo's mouth, Izaya drove him against the wall, squeezing what little breath was left out of him.
Izaya rolled his tongue over Shizuo's lips, sucked and nibbled at them, and when every inch of Shizuo's body and mind was alight and straining for Izaya to take his mouth again, Izaya cupped his cheeks and deepened the kiss, like he knew. Shizuo stood there, breathing heavily as Izaya showed him how skilled he was, how he ruled him, how he was opening him to a whole new world beyond the chaste kisses Shizuo had stolen from him. It felt so good, that Izaya must know what he was doing, but there was nothing of Izaya's cold schemes in this. Because Izaya's hands trembled across his cheeks and Izaya's heart beat hard against Shizuo's chest and Shizuo realized that whatever he was feeling, Izaya was feeling it too.
So he held Izaya's head in his hands and kissed him, slow and deep. Izaya shuddered against him, his lips quivered, and when Shizuo broke the kiss to look down at Izaya, he saw that his hair was tousled, and lust stirred underneath the gleam of his face like an obscure fire. Shizuo was astonished. All his thoughts displaced, his heart bounced above the thunderclouds. "I want to hold you," he said, a bit breathless.
Izaya raised his face to Shizuo's and their lips came together again, hands pulling into a tight hug, teeth bringing blood, and Izaya whispered, "You beast, you monster. Yes."
A/N: Thanks to my beta Aira Kay, and to my dear Su!
