WARNING: This fic contains graphic violence and rape!
That being said, the timeline of this fic will be picking up after volume 13 of the novels and diverting from there. I plan to incorporate some tidbits I have learned from the new Izaya-centric novel released this year into this fic as well, so be aware that there will be spoilers for these!
This fic is Shizaya in the end as just about all of my fics are at this point.
…~-~...
On a crisp, cold night the man in back ran. His dark hair and clothes blended in with the shadows in the night.
He could hear his own heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears. His senses were on high alert, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he navigated his way through the city. It had taken him a while to get his bearings and figure out exactly where he was. Luckily, he wasn't too far away from his own small apartment in Ikebukuro. Relief flooded his mind when he realized that he had a chance of making it home on foot.
However he still wasn't safe yet. There was no time to spare on such thoughts. He needed to focus on his destination.
He wasn't wearing socks and his clothes disheveled as if he had gotten dressed in a hurry-his normally silky smooth black hair was a mess to match. But he didn't care about his appearance at the present moment. His mind was solely focused on one thing:
Gotta get away... Gotta get away...
This thought repeated itself in his mind while wide, auburn eyes darted back and forth in all directions-a stark contrast to the dark bags under his eyes which told a tale of exhaustion.
Yet he continued to run. Through the pain and numbness that threatened to drag him down into the depths of unconsciousness, he ran.
...~ Seven Years Later ~...
The same man—now older and wiser—tossed and turned in his soft, king-sized bed. When he was awake, he was safe; rational. However, in his sleep he was tormented by images that had been forced into the back of his mind.
Orihara Izaya would never reveal that he was frequently tortured by nightmares. Nor would he reveal the cause of said nightmares. This was his secret which he kept hidden deep inside himself.
Sweat formed on his forehead while his eyes remained shut tight. Raw emotions had their way with him while the images flashed through his unconscious mind.
...~-~...
Pain.
There was so much pain and nowhere to hide.
He was tied down, unable to move—unable to escape.
The man stood over him. He was whispering something into his ear, but Izaya couldn't understand what he was saying. His senses were overwhelmed. The white hot sting of searing pain in his left hip. The taste of blood. The smell of sex and burning flesh. The sounds of his own screams. And the sight of the man causing all of this looming above him in the cold, dark, basement.
He wasn't sure when it happened, but the man was fucking him now. Forcing his legs apart so he could shove himself inside.
He could feel bile rise up in his throat. He wanted to throw up but he knew there was nothing in his stomach.
He was going to die like this. His "master" would keep him here and use him like this until he died.
He began to cry. He couldn't find it in himself to be ashamed to show his emotions. He was going to die here anyway. Why should he bother trying to save his dignity?
Just when he thought it couldn't hurt anymore, his master pulled his hair, exposing his neck. He bit down hard on the pale flesh as he came. Maybe his screams had gotten his master off. He wasn't sure. He didn't care. He just wanted to get away from this pain.
He prayed he could hurry up and die.
…~-~…
Izaya woke with a scream trapped in his throat. He was drenched in sweat and his heart was racing. He wiped at his face to find that tears had fallen down his cheeks. He quickly moved to dry them with his sleeve. Finally taking a moment to calm his breathing, Izaya glanced around at his surroundings.
He was in his bedroom. The lights from the city pouring in through the window. The scent of fabric softener surrounded him from his freshly washed sheets.
"It was only a dream…" he whispered to himself.
Shifting in his pajamas, Izaya grimaced. His clothes were damp with sweat, forcing him to pull himself out of bed and over to his dresser. After a quick change of clothes, Izaya went across the hall into the bathroom where he kept a glass for water. He navigated between rooms in the darkness, legs feeling weak at the images flashing through his mind from his dream.
"It was only a dream…" he repeated.
Finally falling back into bed, Izaya wrapped himself in his blankets and shivered. He inhaled the clean scent of his blanket, running his fingers over the super-soft material trying to replace the horrid nightmare that had filled his senses with the comfort of his own bed.
He took a few more deep breaths, and within minutes he was drifting back to sleep, fingers still clutching the soft blanket. In his mind, he kept repeating the mantra "It was only a dream… It was only a dream…"