This is chapter three. Forgive me on this one. No worries though, chapter 4 and 5 are already written.
Chapter Three
The flea is acting more strange today than he was before. I think he finally lost it.
I, on the other hand, am feeling much more alive today. I think they tapered down the drugs because I feel sober for the most part.
"Ehheheheh, this pink is soooo pretty...Hehehe..." Izaya is pulling his shirt out as he looks down at it.
"Yeah, we all know you're a fruit cake," is all I can manage to say.
He's being uncomfortably weird.
"You said Shizu-chan," he says, smiling at me.
Eww.
"I said what?" I ask in disinterest.
"That pink looks good on me." As he speaks, he attempts to twirl in a circle, which he manages for a moment before the chains rap around him and he's forced to twirl back the other way.
He looks like a fucking gay five year old.
"It was sarcasm."
For the first time, I notice that he has 'ORIHARA' in big black letters on the back of his shirt. I briefly wonder if mine says my family name as well.
"Awww, no. Shizu-chan's always such a sour puss." He cackles for a moment before bringing his face close to the glass. "Turn your frown upside down!"
I'm losing patience. I'm 89.000000000006% sure that he's fucked up on some kind of drug. I don't know why they bother doing this weird shit to us.
Izaya pulls the sides of his mouth up to emphasize his words before being distracted by something that seems to be floating in the air. His eyes follow it for a while before jumping and waving his arms up to catch it.
This is the most entertaining thing to happen in a day or two, so I can't really complain, but it's annoying. Like unbearably annoying. Izaya's cutesy attitude is ridiculous and disgusting.
I watch him slump to the ground, disappointed that he wasn't able to catch whatever it was that he saw. After a few seconds of pouting, Izaya becomes fascinated by his shirt once more.
"It's bright and pretty. Why did they choose this color? Did they know I'd learn to like it?" The bastard starts thinking out loud and I can't help but giggle.
"I don't think they thought that far ahead. They probably just think you're as gay as you look."
His hand starts fiddling with the bottom of his shirt, eventually bringing his other one to feel it as well.
"It feels amazing. Have you ever felt a shirt like this, Shizu-chan? Does yours feel like mine?" Izaya doesn't look at me as he asks the question, his attention still playing with the shirt.
"How am I supposed to know what your shirt feels like? Damn, those drugs are really making you stupid."
He ignores everything I say, or so it seems.
"It just feels so amazing. It's soft and breathable, like... the fabric is soft. It's so soft and when you do this-" he pulls the shirt out and lets it snap back to his chest. "It's stretchy and amazing."
The shirt no longer fits his frame from the way he's handling it. It's stretched out and he doesn't seems to care.
"It's hot but the shirt feels to good to take off!"
Izaya starts rubbing his hands all over his own torso and I start to feel uncomfortable.
This is getting too weird, even for the flea.
"Hehehahahehe." The laughter that escapes his throat makes him sound like a hyena. He lies his back on the ground and throws his legs in the air. He kicks them repeatedly upwards and laughs until he suddenly stops, staring up at his legs.
"Oh wow! Look at these pants."
Ugh, here we go again...
"How do your pants feel Shizu-chan? Come over here so I can feel your pants, Shizu-chan."
For once I almost think the damn parasite is mentally ill. There are way too many things wrong with what he is saying.
Of all the things, I pick one to get angry about. "You fucking dumb-ass, flea. My name is not Shizu-chan."
"Then what do you want me to call you?" He asks, still touching his shirt but staring at his pants.
"Master, motherfucker." I laugh to myself until Izaya replies.
"Okay, Master Motherfucker."
"..."
I can't even get mad because... just what the fuck?
"Really, Izaya?" I fiddle with the inside of the end of my pants as I give up. "You know what? Just nevermind."
"Okay, Shizu-chan. Hey, Shizu-chan, come over here so I can feel your pants."
I can't help but growl a little with impatience and annoyance. "You will not touch me what-so-ever and I can't come over there, retard. We're separated by glass, remember?"
"Nah, you can walk through it. Why can't I touch you, Shizu-chan?"
I rub my temples as I try to drown him out. I wish I could just walk away from this, away from these cement walls. That would be nice because then I could get the fuck away from him. Oh, and I could escape but that's not really my first priority right now.
I almost envy the flea for getting a chance to get a break from the stress.
"Because you're disgusting," I remind him.
"The pants feel nice too."
UGHHHH!
"I don't give a shit how your clothes feel!"
Izaya lays still for a moment placing his hand beneath his shirt, near his navel and I turn away. Whatever the fuck he is doing is weird and I want no part in it.
I lay on the floor ignoring all sounds, trying to sleep but his incessant giggles make him impossible to ignore.
"Shizu-chan, I hate you," he cackles like a hyena.
Finally, something that makes sense.
"Oh trust me, I hate you more."
He laughs even harder and I roll my eyes. I really wish I knew what the hell was so funny.
Izaya jumps up and walks slowly over towards the shelves that hold his clothes. He holds his hands out for balance and takes large steps.
"Pfft, come on. You can't even walk now?" I ask him but he laughs even harder.
"It's harder than it looks," he says as he grabs on to the shelf for support. Before he seems fully balanced, he grabs the stack of pink shirts with his name on them and starts to toss them one by one quickly into the air.
For a moment I'm almost amazed at the way he's able to throw them so quickly and with enough precision to have them fall around him in a perfect circle. He does it again and again until he ultimately lies himself on the floor and continues.
I guess he still possesses all of his abilities even if he is drugged, unfortunately he doesn't possess enough strength to escape; not that he's even a bit concerned about that right now.
"Shizu-chan, why do you hate me?"
He asks me this question as if the world is resting on his shoulders and he has a gigantic plan that will be decided upon my answer, but I know it's just his brain being weird and firing off random thoughts.
"Because you're disgusting and pathetic. You're a horrible person, you're an asshole. You gain pleasure from watching people suffer. You're just a fucking parasite." I can't help but grit my teeth in anger as I recall the countless memories.
"Yeah, that's why you hate me now... but why did you start hating me. You attacked me the first day we met." He stares at the ceiling still wondering aloud.
"You fucking applauded my violence and strength. Plus, I hated your face. I knew you were up to no good. You're fucking mouth spews filth." My hands clench into fists.
His head turns to look at me but he doesn't reply.
Eventually, he turns his body towards me, bending his arm and laying his head on it like a pillow.
I watch him for a while as he looks around my room. His lack of a snarky reply since this situation started bothers me a lot. He isn't the type to become choked up. What's really messing with my head though, is that he's choosing not to reply to me. I prefer it when the insect is blunt, it definitely beats this crap. It almost feels like he's manipulating me, but I can't tell if that's actually the case either.
"Thanks for pressing the button," he whispers before closing his eyes.
Yeah, he's gotta be trying to manipulate me, but can he do that in his current state? What if this whole thing is carefully calculated and he's acting to make me believe that he's on drugs. Is this his way of trying to get my trust? Why is everything only happening to Izaya?
"Yeah, well I couldn't take you're screaming anymore."
A smile tugs at his lips before his even breathing fills my room once more.
...and it makes me want to vomit.
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