Originally posted at the Drrr Kinkmeme on Livejournal.
The following story contains M/M - please don't read if that's not your thing. If it is, enjoy! ;)
Wherever You Will Go
Chapter Eight
By the time Shizuo was done in the bathroom pretending he could wash away Izaya's touch, the mess in the kitchen had been cleaned up. The flea was scraping something that looked like a nuclear meltdown from a pan into the trash, and had seen fit to 'borrow' one of Shizuo's new shirts. It hung far too wide on his shoulders, but Izaya had rolled the cuffs up and it didn't look too bad.
Izaya could have taken anything he wanted as long as Shizuo didn't have to see those marks, didn't have to remember being so caught up in wanting that he hadn't realized he'd inflicted them at all.
As soon as Izaya quit playing his games, he'd realize it was better this way. He'd see this wasn't anything he wanted, anything he'd really miss.
"Ah, just figured I'd tidy up before I…"
"Thanks."
"I suppose you made your decision just in time. The way I was going, we'd both end up with food poisoning and with the size of your bathroom…" Izaya shook his head. "Doesn't bear thinking about."
Shizuo wondered who this resumption of 'everything's a-okay!' was meant to soothe. All it did was make him imagine how quiet this damn place would be when the flea was gone.
Fuck it; I wanted peace, right?
He fixed himself a sweet overly-creamed coffee, taking it and a pack of cigarettes outside. Watching Izaya puttering around the cottage as though he was meant to be there left him uncomfortable.
The garden offered little respite. Everywhere he looked, he could hear one of Izaya's rambling, enthusiastic lessons on the meaning of anemones, or the migrating habits of swifts – "Did you know, they hardly ever settle on the ground? They prefer to keep flying, or cling to impossible surfaces."
When Izaya eventually followed him – of course he would – Shizuo fought the childish urge to go back inside.
There were no more lessons. Izaya said nothing for several long moment. He just picked at the folded-up cuffs as he perched on the wall, a short distance from where Shizuo sat, and tilted his face up toward the sunshine.
"I wonder how the information network has coped without me?" Izaya finally mused to no one in particular. "Ground to a standstill I'd imagine. I hope Namie-chan hasn't spent all my money in my absence. Ah, I can always make more. Do you think she'll be able to guess where I've been?"
Shizuo didn't even think Izaya wanted an actual answer. What the hell was he supposed to say anyway? 'No, from that killer tan she'll think you had a week in Bali'? Shit, if Izaya went shirtless anywhere in the next week, whoever saw him would think he'd been held and tortured for the past few days instead.
He probably had.
"Any messages you'd like me to pass on?"
"Nothing I'd trust you with."
"So suspicious, Shizu-chan. What do you think I have to lose now?"
Exactly. People were dangerous when they thought they had nothing to lose, and Izaya was a catastrophe waiting to happen at the best of times. Shizuo tried to understand what Izaya thought he was truly losing by leaving, and came up empty. They'd both be better off this way. A substantial portion of Tokyo… maybe not so much, but that wasn't Shizuo's problem anymore.
And besides, being selfish was supposed to feel like shit, wasn't it? Otherwise, people wouldn't call it selfish.
"Do you remember what you told me the other day?"
Really not in the mood for twenty questions, Shizuo took an impatient drag on his cigarette and shrugged. "I probably said a lot of things." Most of which he didn't want to remember.
"Hmm, true. But you know, you askfar less than you'd imagine. Less than other people would." Izaya swung his legs back and forth, staring into middle distance with a half smile. "Which is pretty refreshing when you answer questions for a living. Ah, sometimes people don't even realize they're asking questions until they get answers they don't want. You never ask for much. But even you want to know 'why', don't you? You want to know how this could be okay for me."
Yes, he really did. More than anything he wanted to understand why they'd ended up like this, what he'd done, or said to make Izaya think that acting this way was acceptable. He wanted to know where he'd gone wrong, what had been his first mistake. Raijin? Ikebukuro? His bedroom? He wanted to know why Izaya always knew the best way to get under his skin.
"Not especially."
"You're a terrible liar, Shizu-chan. And like all bad liars, you think you're convincing everyone when you're not."
"Yeah? Takes one to know one."
Izaya chuckled. "Still, it can't hurt can it? I'm leaving, you'll never have to deal with me again. I can hardly leave you seething here with your curiosity eating you alive."
"See, I think you're confusing me with someone who gives a shit."
"But you do. Otherwise we wouldn't be in this situation at all."
There wasn't much he could say to that.
"And anyway… it doesn't matter to me anymore, right?" When he began speaking again, there was an edge to Izaya's voice that made Shizuo lift his head and glance across at him. "This is baggage I'd much rather not carry back with me."
For some reason, Shizuo's thoughts drifted back to the stuff that had fallen out of Izaya's bag. Ordinary things. Fragile things. As fragile as the man sitting next to him, swallowed up in a too-big shirt and looking desolate, and resigned and far too human.
It was almost possible in that moment to forget everything the flea had done.
"Do you remember the first thing you said to me?"
It was pretty fucking difficult to forget. "Yeah."
Izaya laughed softly. "Hate at first sight, ne, Shizu-chan?"
"Only because—"
Shit. He tried to pretend he hadn't started to answer, but he could feel Izaya's gaze on him, waiting. Like it had been back then. Waiting, and expectant, as though Izaya saw something far more fascinating, more promising than just him.
Only because Izaya looked at him with those fearless eyes and Shizuo hadn't known what to do with it except detest it because anyone who knew what he was and still looked at him that way were clearly fucked up. Clearly had ulterior motives. Who the hell knew what Izaya'd had planned for him, where he'd be now if he'd let himself be swept up in that.
Only because he'd been trying to destroy himself as much as the damn flea.
"Because it was obvious you were bad news."
"Well, there is that. I often wonder if things had been different from the start, what might have changed. But you know… probably not much. I doubt I'd be some paragon of virtue right now if you'd liked me instead."
Shizuo stared at the ash accumulating at the end of his forgotten cigarette, and tried to wrap his thoughts around that. There was no way in hell anyone could have reined Izaya in. The flea was a force of nature. Still… had he had the opportunity to try, to minimize the damage, and hadn't even noticed?
But he'd tried that. This whole mess was his proof. He'd tried to bear the brunt of Izaya's attention, and failed miserably.
"You're beating yourself up over that now, aren't you?" He couldn't tell whether the sound on the breeze was a sigh or a laugh, or a sad mixture of both. "Don't. Do you honestly think that if I'd wanted to make a far better first impression on you that I couldn't have?"
Shizuo thought again about the village, about strangers flocking around Izaya with smiles and laughter and everything about them open for the taking.
"No, you saw me and you didn't like it," Izaya went on. "That was okay. A miscalculation on my part, maybe, but I decided I could still get what I wanted."
"What you wanted?"
"Hmm." Izaya nodded, before going off on another tangent. "Do you know, when you think I'm not around you actually smile? Not that psychotic axe-murderer look you get when you're planning my untimely demise, a real smile. I thought for a long time that I was fine with you hating me, but sometimes… I admit, I was curious. I thought maybe I'd like to meet that man."
"Stupid flea. You think I've got some split personality or something? I'm just me."
"But you're not." Izaya shook his head. "I don't know who you are when you're with other people. They get to see a different Shizu-chan."
"Yeah, well. Maybe it's because other people didn't make my life hell on a regular basis." The cigarette had burned down close to his fingers without him noticing. He stubbed it out on the wall, kept stubbing even when the cigarette was extinguished just for something else to look at besides Izaya. "Didn't land me in jail for shit I didn't do, that sort of thing."
"But that's just it. I never wanted to be like all the others. I wanted something that was just for me. I wanted to see you react to me like you never would for anyone else. I wanted something of yours that was only mine. If that was your hatred, then…" Izaya sent him a sidelong look, and Shizuo only caught the briefest glimpse of it before he looked away but it made him shiver all the same. "Better than nothing, right?"
Shizuo snorted. "So, what… you're passing it all off as attention seeking?"
"You could see it that way. But, you know…" Izaya's voice took on a soft, dreamlike quality. "As long as I had your attention, I was invincible. Nothing could touch me. How could it, when you, the most powerful thing I knew couldn't catch me? You keep asking what the game is this time, but the truth is that wasthe game, Shizu-chan. How far could I push, how close could I get without everything I'd built falling apart?"
Izaya fell silent. When Shizuo looked up, that same dreamlike quality infused the smile Izaya sent his way. "And you know how I play, Shizu-chan. If you were going to hate me, then you'd hate me more than you ever hated anyone else."
Izaya threw that word around so casually. Hate. A cold, calculating, slow-burning thing, the complete opposite to his rage. That burned bright, fast, blinding, and then it was gone. No lingering grudges. He wouldn't even have held one against Izaya if the flea had just left things well enough alone. If Izaya had just disappeared, taken with him those knowing eyes and that irritating smirk and the screwed up hope that there was someone out there he could neverbreak, he might have been able to get on with his life.
And yeah, maybe he hated the things Izaya did, hated the way the flea knew all the right buttons to press. But that wasn't the same as hating Izaya the person. Hating the person behind all that awful logic and twisted rationale was just…
And it occurred to him that Izaya probably didn't know the difference. But before he could bring himself to speak, Izaya was talking again.
"And so, when I heard you were leaving, well, you know that part."
"So you seriously thought I was worth… lowering yourself like that?"
"Lowering myself?" Izaya sounded surprised. "Oh, Shizu-chan, you have no idea how low I'd go for you."
The murmur of those words shot through his blood, carrying with it the muscle memory of how Izaya had felt beneath him, around him, how he touched, how he kissed.
How he took everything Shizuo threw at him, and still came back for more.
"But I don't want that, I… no one should need to act that way for someone else."
"Then clearly you've never wanted something you knew you could never truly have, Shizu-chan. I don't know whether I should envy you or feel sorry for you."
"You really are messed up, flea."
"Ah, probably." Izaya hopped down from the wall, stretching like a cat who'd been basking in a sunbeam. Shizuo lit another cigarette, just for something to do with his hands; he could see horrible visions of them reaching out as Izaya strolled past, latching onto that oversized sleeve and begging him not to go, not to-
Izaya, probably by dint of some innate flea power to know exactly what Shizuo was thinking just as he did it, paused right in front of him. "But you know, in all of this, I made one big mistake."
Shizuo managed a forced laugh. "Just the one? So unlike you."
But Izaya wasn't even smiling. Not even smirking. There was just something helpless and frustrated in his eyes, before he turned and continued walking back towards the house.
"Maybe. I just didn't account for the fact, in competing for your loathing I'd lose out to you."
The day passed in the same sort of bittersweet haze as the final day of a perfect vacation. You knew there was nothing waiting for you the next day, just the bleak, yawning stretch of your day-to-day existence. There'd be no more sunshine, no more warmth. No more pretending this could be your life, in some elaborate fantasy.
No more pretending, Shizu-chan.
Somehow, they both had the tacit agreement that, if it was night time that brought them here, it'd be night time taking him back. It just meant more aching hours to fill, and more space for the doubts to creep in.
But maybe that would be all right too. If this didn't work, then obviously it had been just a fantasy.
He'd been gathering his things, just another excuse to stay in Shizuo's space, when his coat fell off the back of the couch. Maybe without thinking, maybe because simple nice gestures like that were deeply ingrained in him, Shizuo picked it up for him, handing it over.
"Thanks, I—"
Both their gazes dropped to the small black square still on the floor. Something must have shown on his face, because Shizuo's eyes narrowed shrewdly, and he reached for the wallet before Izaya could. Reached for it, flipped it open, and Shizuo could have spread him wide open in a million ways, he wouldn't have felt quite so bared as he did as Shizuo looked at the primrose pressed into the useless space where other people might put photos of loved ones. Sometimes, Izaya kept the default picture that came with the wallet – usually some smiling woman or drooling child – because it was always useful in tricky situations if you could claim there were loved ones who would report your disappearance and mourn your passing.
He tried to imagine that photo of Shizuo gracing his wallet, imagined some idiotic thug's reaction if Izaya showed them a photo of the Beast of Ikebukuro and said "This is my 'loved one' who'll surely be pissed off if I'm harmed", and his soft laugh startled Shizuo back to his senses. A shame, because Izaya was sure he was a second away from reaching out to touch the drying petals of the flower as if to confirm it was really there.
"Sorry." Shizuo held out the wallet gruffly, not quite looking at him while he did so. His lips were a grim line, brows furrowed.
Izaya stared at the wallet for a moment, before taking it and slipping it back into the pocket of his coat. "Why does that make you so angry?"
"It doesn't." Another lie. Shizuo was so utterly guileless that all sincere, genuine statements, even if they hurt as sharply as jagged glass, came with direct eye contact. This one came with an averted gaze. "I just don't get it, that's all."
"What's to get? It's a memento. A keepsake. Surely Shizu-chan has something like that?"
Shizuo rubbed absentmindedly at his chest. "Not really."
"I see. Well then, something precious that reminds you of someone important. Like your bartender clothes remind you of your brother."
"I don't have those anymore." Shizuo turned for his bedroom. End of conversation, at least on that topic. "What do you want me to do with your shirt?"
Izaya shrugged. "I don't care. Throw it out."
Shizuo paused, and Izaya could see him working the sudden tension from his shoulders. "Gladly."
"There is one thing you can do for me, though." Izaya followed him into the bedroom, crowding Shizuo in the cramped space. "Here. I know you don't trust me to do it properly, so…"
He held out the pendant with one hand, and offered up the other wrist. He couldn't quite calm the racing of his heart as he watched Shizuo wind the cord tight, knotting it with so little left over Izaya would need to be a contortionist to undo it, or use his blade.
You're always tying me up, Shizu-chan, I just can't tell yet if it's to keep me away or keep me here.
And damned if he was sleeping on that uncomfortable couch tonight. Shizuo looked at him sceptically when Izaya slinked onto the bed, stretching out and making himself comfortable.
"You're sleeping here?"
"Ah, one last indulgence, ne, Shizu-chan? I'll behave myself, I promise."
Because if he was wrong, then he still wanted to watch Shizuo's face as long as he was allowed. He wouldn't close his eyes, not even when the light from the high window faded, outlining the other man in shadows.
"I'm just surprised." In the dark, he could almost pretend Shizuo's voice was a secretive, seductive whisper, murmuring things the blond would never reveal in the light. "I guess I expected you to try and make me change my mind."
"Would it have worked?"
"No. But I figured you'd try anyway."
"Well…" Izaya felt for the cool disk of silver tied tight around his wrist, running his fingers over the engraving, and smiled into the dark. "Sometimes, actions speak louder, ne?"