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last stop for a resolution
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When he leaves the hospital, Shizuo gets drunk – something he hasn't done in a very long time. He's never been one to drink; always too afraid he might let himself get out of control and do something he'd regret.
His movements are fumbled and he's tripping all over the place as he heavily pulls himself up the stairs to his apartment. At one point he falls against the steps; sprawled across them in a way that probably makes him look like some kind of washed up drug addict. But he's tired and he still hasn't slept and all he wants to do is make it into his tiny fucking apartment so he can sleep.
He lifts his head so he can look at the distance that still remains until he's at the top; his world tilts a bit from the awkward angle he's looking at, and he continues to lay where he is like dead weight. It looked like it would take too much effort, and he's not very sure of his balance right now – not sure if he can stand upright again.
Taking a few minutes to compose himself a little, Shizuo finally reaches up to the side railing. Finding a good grip he lifts himself up into a halfway standing position. He staggers unceremoniously up the stairs until he's standing in front of his apartment door. Shizuo jiggles the knob, but it doesn't open and he stares at it dumbly trying to figure out what's wrong. Somewhere amongst the fog in his brain, it registers; and he searches his pockets for his keys.
"Fuck..." He mumbles to himself as he tries and fails to stick the key into the lock. His hands don't want to co-operate, and his motor skills are completely shot.
Shizuo lets a tiny growl fall from his lips as he leans forward so his forehead is pressed against the wooden frame. He closes his eyes in desperation because he's nearly positive that's he's going to fall on his face pretty soon, and his hands continue to jiggle the doorknob and key. It takes a few too many moments, but the frame is suddenly swung open from his pressed weight after successfully unlocking it, and Shizuo stagger's heavily into his apartment. He nearly falls to his knees for a moment, but catches himself on the walls.
Kicking the door shut behind him, he doesn't bother locking because he honestly doesn't care enough right now. It's late into the afternoon and the sunlight his shining through the balcony door in his tiny living room. He strips off his jacket and scarf; kicking off leather shoes so he can leave them all in a pile near his door as he walks slowly and unsteadily towards his single bedroom. Twenty-four years old, and he still lives alone – still hasn't had a relationship that's lasted longer than one night. Shizuo's never been more depressed when he thinks about that.
He leans heavily on the walls in the small hallway for support as he finally makes it into his bedroom. He stumbles here and there in the direction of his bed, and the moment his knees touch the mattress he lets himself fall forward. He presses his cheek into the mussed sheets and blankets, and he's still fully dressed in his bartender suit. He can't bring himself to care enough to get undressed.
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end of the line
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Shizuo lets out a soft moan at the comfort of his own bed, and buries his face deeper into the softness before his body finally gives in and he falls asleep from the combination of exhaustion and alcohol.
The breeze is fresh, if not a little bit chilly – but Shizuo enjoys the crispness of the air. The surf curls and flourishes; drifting forward and back against the shore while creating smooth and relaxing melodies. The sky is completely clear and spotless, and the ocean looks as if it goes on forever and ever; meeting with the sky in the horizon, a beautiful mixture of blues. The waves shift and twist; flooding over rocks before retreating once more, and sand sifts through his toes and fingers.
It's early in the morning; the sun isn't very high, and Shizuo smokes quietly from his secluded little spot. He's alone on the beach, left with nothing but his own thoughts as he stares contemplatively out at the sea. He tabs his toes against the cool and gritty sand for a moment, wondering briefly to himself just where in the hell his shoes went. He couldn't remember taking them off.
Shizuo has always loved the beach; the ocean was something calm and soothing, even looking past the fact that he hadn't been out here in years on end. He wants to let himself fall back against the sand and look up at the sky in the way he used to do when he was little; sunbathe and breathe in the unpolluted air he can't seem to find anywhere in Ikebukuro.
Nothing against his home; Shizuo has always loved that city, but he loves peaceful and calming surroundings much more. He can't help but ask himself if Izaya's ever been to the beach – but he already knows the answer to that question. Their interests have always opposed each other; it's not like they ever had anything in common. They were strangers who have known each other for going on 9 years. He didn't even know Izaya's favorite color.
His cigarette is nearly finished out before he even realizes it, and Shizuo tosses the butt a few feet away from him; watching the way it smolders in the sand. The smoke is hardly even visible due to the feathering gusts that float through across the area; mixing in to clear out the air and his hair shifts with the wind. He shakes his head a little to get his bangs out of his eyes, and he notices that he's not wearing his sunglasses. A small frown graces his lips, and he looks around himself but doesn't see his glasses or shoes anywhere in sight. Rubbing the fingers of one hand against his forehead, he tells himself that it's alright and he'll find them later; when he's getting ready to leave.
A shadow casts over him; dark and looming and it stretches out before him as though someone was standing behind him and blocking out the bright sunlight. Knitting his brows together at the realization, he tilts his head back a little to as to tell the fucker off, but his words fall short as a quick flash of metal shines in his eyes and he can hear a sickening squish of a noise.
He blinks in confusion because his world tumbles, and he finds himself much lower to the sand than he originally was. His throat aches a bit and he can't determine why; one look up answers his deafening questions.
Shizuo finds himself staring up at a body he knew all too well; a body that was his own, now pulsing blood from the upper neck where a head was supposed to be sitting. All he can do his gape in horror; watching the soon to be corpse slump to the side and hit the sand with a soft 'thump'. His mocha eyes flick to the side, up at the figure that was still looming over him.
Izaya Orihara meets his gaze dead on; his expression completely blank and calm and his red eyes are much to bright.
"Shizu-chan..." The brunet murmurs to him, voice soft and robbed of the sharp edginess he'd grown to accustomed to over the years.
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is it confusion?
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Shizuo's eyes snap open and he's hit with the sudden onset of confusion. He doesn't know where he's at, what time it is – dear god, Izaya just cut his fucking head off. Panicked; his movements seem slow and a bit contorted but he manages to bring his hands up where they clasp around the clammy and cool skin of his neck. He can feel his pulse pounding under his fingertips, and he trails them up until he meets his jaw, determining by way of confirmation that his head was still attached to his body, and he wasn't dying.
Swallowing thickly, he grimaces at the stale taste in his mouth and he's staring up at the ceiling in his bedroom. Breathing heavily, he pants in mild attempts at catching his breath, and when he moves to sit up his world tips and shifts at the movements. He groans irritatedly to himself as it becomes apparent that he's still a bit drunk. He didn't sleep long enough to ward off the effects, and his stomach is already starting to churn and protest against making any sort of movement.
He's not even aware of what he's doing but his chest aches and he's being flooding with so much fucking sadness he's not even sure what to do with himself. The agony inside is so intense and painful that it almost feels physical.
"F-fuck," he groans, reaching out haphazardly towards his nightstand where his cellphone sits idle. He knocks the alarm clock off in his attempt at grabbing it; his motor skills still a bit shot from the drunken stupor that his body was still experiencing. Successfully palming the small device, he lets himself fall back against his mattress as he presses his speed-dial; ringing on a number he's called all too many times before.
He's not even remotely surprised this time when the noise stops short; heading on to the prerecorded voice-mail that was was becoming more and more acquainted with. This was getting fucking ridiculous.
"Kasuka..." He starts by way of greeting, once the tone alerts him to start talking. Shizuo knows he sounds pathetically drunk, but in that moment he didn't care anymore. "Your voice-mail is... like my new best friend. It's fucking mean that you having called me, you know... And, so – I... I just had this dream, where, like... remember that beach tha-that we went to when we were little? I was there... and... Izaya cut off my head. But I'm s-sure that you don't care about any of that, right? Haha..." He finds himself chuckling lowly into the phone, and his own grief threatens to choke off his words. There's pressure behind his ears; pushing down against the sides of his jaw at the way he's holding it all in.
Shizuo is getting ready to go on further; to spit out an insult due to how dejected he feels about his little brother not answering his phone for him, but he can't seem to articulate his thoughts anymore. Instead he falls quiet as he stares up at his ceiling in a distressed manner; as though he's waiting for Kasuka to start talking to him, even though in his hazy state he knows it's impossible.
The recording process ends, and he hears a robotic voice asking him he he wanted to re-record his message, or leave it as it was. Pulling the phone away from his ear, Shizuo debated on it for a moment before he pressed a single button that erased his message and restarted the process. Holding the phone back up to properly speak into it, he closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh.
There is so much he wants to say, but his new message doesn't voice any of it.
"...Call me."
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fucking short chapter. i'm really sorry. there will be a lot more izaya soon. i'm also writing a companion piece that takes place over izaya's time; inverted from this one, which focuses on shizuo.
his dream had significance. decapitation means that there is a truth you are unwilling to see. looking out into the ocean, means an abrupt change in your life that you have yet to adapt to.
please review and tell me what you think.