Second to last chapter, Shizuo's POV brings a lot of things to light (at least in my opinion XD) But as always, I don't own anything~
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Late Spring
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He defied all laws of physics.
And he didn't quite like that about himself.
"Umbrella, brother."
Shizuo picked his bag up from the ground and turned his head.
An umbrella was outstretched, like a peace offering that no one else dared to make. He was significantly shorter than him. The boy had black hair where he had bleach blonde. There wasn't a single expression on his face but his simple words were genuine, there was never a need to doubt. Shizuo took the umbrella from his brother's grip and the morning rain seemed to intensify as he opened the door to their home.
"See you, Kasuka."
The morning sun was clouded by a heavy gray, silence served as Kasuka's only answer and the door closed softly. Everything dissolved into the wet musty air as he stepped into the rain.
As far as he could remember, their parents had always been long gone by the time he had crawled out of bed. Breakfast was milk from the fridge and lunch was bread from Raira's cafeteria. Kasuka never needed any extra attention from neither him nor their parents. Shizuo's family was made of independence.
He walked around a puddle and brushed by the morning crowds.
Their faces were washed a dull grey and the high-rise buildings were vanishing with each drop of rain.
Shizuo saw life in a blur.
Through broken shards of what could be memories, he could only remember so much. His past consisted of feelings and splashes of instincts. Only certain people ever go down in his head with a matching name and face.
Tanaka Tom had been the first. He made peace a reality, not a fight that was asking for more violent blows his way. No matter how much the other man gave away, he would never ask for anything in return. Shizuo loved being around the other but Shizuo valued his sincerity most, a quality he could never receive from anyone else.
And then out of routine and reopening wounds, Shinra became the second. His existence had been useful and aside from all that trash-talk full of four worded idioms and beautiful headless women, having Shinra as a friend really was better than none.
The third had been Orihara Izaya, the one to shatter his careful construct of peace. Now his one man island was forced to fit two and their world fired off against the Ikebukuro streets. He didn't like the hate that spiked at the sight of black hair and red eyes. He wished something between them could change at the same time that he knew things couldn't.
The final one came in the form of Kadota Kyouhei, they did not speak much but he had always been the most mature one of them all, the truth in the mangled messes of lies that Izaya had tied them to.
Aside from these four and his own blood-related family, he was accustomed to the fear, like second nature that had imbedded itself into his scarred bones.
Sliding open his classroom door, the first thing he heard was no longer hushed whispers or complete silence, it was Shinra's voice.
"Don't insult Celty, Izaya."
There was a trace of a threat in his tone and it was the first time Shizuo had ever heard his friend sounding defensive. Stepping in, he caught sight of the flea and the silent Kadota Kyouhei sitting in the half-full classroom.
Shinra continued with firm determination in his voice and his eyes glinted dangerously behind those glasses.
"Or else I'll tell everyone about what happened in middle school."
"What are you talking about?"
His head hurt when Izaya spoke up, it was like a natural reaction for his body to throb and ache when he neared the louse's existence. Their intertwined fate was more like a curse.
"When you dislocated your should—"
But Izaya had already launched himself at Shinra.
The chairs clattered into the desks and the desks slammed into the walls but even with all that noise, it did little to cover Izaya's loud voice.
"Shut up, Shinra! He bumped into me first! Besides that guy might as well be Shizuo!"
Shizuo closed the door, with a little too much force than necessary and popped it out of its frame.
"Did I hear my name?"
It was hardly a question because they all knew he was just picking a fight.
"No, you were just hallucinating." Izaya looked up from the ground, he had Shinra in a headlock. His lips were twisted into a nasty sneer. "Didn't sleep well last night, Shizu-chan? Bet you were thinking of me."
The nickname got to him once more.
The grip on his fists tightened, his knuckles turned white. Throwing his bag to the ground, he could see the tiles crack with the transfer of force. He tried to calm himself down, he tried to escape the anger blinding his eyes but unlike Shinra who didn't know a thing about fighting, he was a bull with eyes set on red.
Izaya pushed Shinra away before standing up fully.
Neither looked pleased.
000
They were in the art room.
Four months back, the flea had pulled a pretty visual stunt in here. It had been a disaster, he remembered the screams, the scene of him and him, the two of them back in this room as they drew in gasps of paint with each breath they took. Things had yet to change.
The curtains bellowed around them, cheap white material gliding with the late spring wind.
Someone left the window open.
The scuffle stopped with one last clatter.
Their chase had to end somewhere.
Paint dripped from a tipped can, smearing a mess of red against the tiled floors.
Izaya had pushed Shizuo to the ground and his chest was heaving with each breath of the same stale air.
"Don't move."
His warning was short and blunt, unlike the sculpting blade that was long and sharp. His hair was in his eyes and the silver edge rested against the smooth bump to Shizuo's adam's apple. Neither of them made a move.
"I don't want to hurt you."
Shizuo glared with a thick swallow and Izaya continued like he was the one with a knife at his throat. A danger he had picked up with one smooth glide of his fingertips against the cluttered tables.
"I really didn't want to do it, not any of this… you forced me, Shizu-chan."
He was biting until his lips were a burning red, Izaya was hurting. And even Shizuo could tell. He breathed heavily and the next words that he spoke were the farthest that he could go.
"I don't hate you, I couldn't never hate you, at least not the same way you hate me. I think... I think, I like you."
Izaya was on Shizuo but he had never felt as close to Dotachin as he did at this moment.
Love had brought them together in a way nothing else could.
The way sweet words like these rubbed at their sore spots, Shizuo felt sick.
There had never been silence but there had never been calm words either. It had always been pushes and shoves on both their parts, along with the pain and blood and fun and games. Words like these had no place between them and Izaya should have been the only other one to know just that.
He could feel his breath on his face mingling with the waft of paint.
And then Shizuo pushed him away with a hand against Izaya's chest, his fingers over his heart.
They should have both known better than anyone else. Izaya's blade glided across the skin, tearing a cut that spilled stark contrast against the white of Shizuo's shirt and the silver of that sculpting knife. Izaya's eyes widened at the sight of red, the crimson that wallowed in the blood pool of his own eyes.
"Don't fuck with me, flea."
There was no end to this.
Shizuo pulled away, glaring, anger burning in the dark brown depths of his eyes. These were the types of mistakes that they never learnt from. "Your manipulative games won't get you anywhere with me, Izaya."
Neither of them deserved a happy ending when hate was the only word they knew.
The pause did not last because they were recovering too fast for wounds to heal up right.
"I should've known… Shizu-chan." Izaya ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled with his lips stretched wide. His blade slipped from between his grip and the clatter shook them both back to the real world where neither of them could ever retreat without another scar to add to their personal collection. "...You... ruin everything."
Looking up, there was only menace left in his eyes, pools of empty red that were drenched in distaste.
Shizuo raised a fist, Izaya didn't dodge, he was anticipating the pain, the bruise, the mark that would wallow beneath the skin because it was solely one of a kind. Instead, Shizuo growled, a well-controlled whirl of anger and frustration before withdrawing his hand.
They each took a breath.
He didn't want this strength to hurt and harm. He sought for an ordinary life with a safer ability that he could control. Shizuo turned away with a palm resting against his neck in a feeble attempt to slow the flow of blood, this was hate and an urge to destroy.
But the last person he wanted to kill was Orihara Izaya.
He kept him in check with his constant hate. Shizuo depended on the other to get back up and take him on all over again because Izaya's presence was the only living thing that brought him gratification to have this sort of power. It was a senseless dependence but this was all he had.
Izaya was the only one who could ever match up to him.
Shizuo turned around and stormed from the ruined art room. The curtains fluttered with a heavy force, it was their last spring at Raijin.
Their time was up.
The red paint dripped blood and Shizuo's blood had stained his fingertips red. Izaya slumped to the ground dejected. The difference left him indifferent and maybe, the paint had finally gotten through to his systems.
He tilted his head back and he laughed, it was loud.
And when the laughter died down, he lowered his head and he cried.
It was silent.
Outside the half shut sliding doors, Kadota had witnessed it all. Izaya's tears must have been hot as they slid down his cheek and his breath must have been caught in his throat because it was too quiet to be the sound of a broken heart. Kadota was indifferent, like the boy curled by the window and he would have turned to leave if it wasn't for that familiar voice, like an accusation that seemed to taunt and amuse all at the same time.
"…Spying is an indecent act of curiosity."
Seconds passed, ticking a loud awakening that drummed into their ears. There was no blame, there was no care, there was only a small spark of recognition left. Izaya looked up wearily with a drained smile washed white against his lips.
"I just never knew Dotachin would be the one to catch me at my worst."
000
He lost sight of Izaya.
There was no blood on his hands, just the feeling of Izaya's skin.
The flea had run off without a second taunt, silence in the wake of the noise he had created.
Shizuo still couldn't forget. The art room. The red paint. The blood from his own wound. The pain hadn't last, it hardly compared to the adrenaline and the memories of Izaya's heartbeat as he pushed him off, it was a frantic constant that was beating at the centre of his palm.
The surprise had stung.
The realization had seared a burn in each fingertip.
There was no forgetting this time because his final lie had crumbled into the truth and reality was just short of every expectation in their world. One that was solely Shizuo and Izaya.
Turning around, he stalked through the streets. With the flea running and dodging him like a plague, this had been the seventh time this week. They would see each other, across the hall, down the stairs, through the crowds, and the next second into the chase, Izaya would have already vanished.
And it came as a larger bother than any expectation he had ever placed on himself.
It could not be healthy, this obsessive hate that became the only thing he could feel.
He remembered Tom's graduation, he remembered the words he had said: If you hate it then you should just quit. It's only normal.
But with Izaya's existence, he had long since abandoned the Heiwajima Shizuo that he had with Tom. His attempts have shattered with each blow he threw out and he was just short of normal as Izaya blocked him, blow after blow.
Izaya met him at each step with so much more to offer.
He couldn't love him because he could only hate him in return.
Their time had run out.
There was only one month until their lives at Raijin came to an end and Izaya had ran off without leaving a single trail behind.
000
A month later, Shizuo was still aggravated but they graduated nonetheless.
XXX Kuro
Should I have put in a warning for OCC-Izaya? DD: And yes, this story is bound to go downhills because a happy ending really isn't for these sick Raijin kids.