Nestled in his second favorite corner of the library Izaya thumbs between three different books. One written by a sociologist, another by a psychologist, and the third by criminal investigator. All about cultural discipline and deviant behavior.
Just one perspective is basically worthless. He reasoned to himself, furiously scribbling notes. Even this is just one expert's perception of each field and this criminal investigator's spent more time as a professor than actually in the field. Not to mention the fact that this sociologist's a total hack. There's a few more sources I still haven't read.
Izaya's stomach groans weakly, but Izaya ignores it just like he ignored the lunch bell.
I've still got thirty minutes before my next test. He thinks, pausing only to push his glasses up his nose. Plenty of time for these last few chapters.
Izaya's next test is not on deviant behavior or half-baked criminal investigators. It's for that Calculus class he skips regularly without consequence.
The criminal investigator begins re-accounting a trial with a delinquent and Izaya's mind involuntarily flashes back to the previous day. The day when just a bookshelf of court cases separated him from his own delinquent. Well, Shizuo isn't exactly Izaya's , but Izaya reasons that he is in spirit. Close enough, anyway. Izaya's spent plenty of time observing Mr. long, blonde, and dangerous - much like a scientist observing a wild animal. He's even named his favorite animal like many scientists do, after something cute he overheard some girls saying. In Izaya's mind the infamous Heiwajima Shizuo is just Shizu-chan the specimen.
Izaya's pen pauses at the memory, having never been so close to that particular specimen before. The specimen that's certainly held his interest the longest, but it's only a matter of time before Shizu-chan gets boring, of course.
Izaya decides to switch to the psychologist for now, reminding himself that he already recorded yesterday's interaction in his field notebook.
The last few minutes of lunch fly by, prompting Izaya just jot down his last few thoughts before packing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Even though he hurries, Izaya is three minutes late to Calculus. The teacher hands him the test without comment and Izaya is the first to finish and leave, another thoughtless A to keep up appearances and back to his self-imposed work in the library.
The librarian's assistant gives him a shy nod when he reenters his domain and he nods back with a polite smile, wondering only for a moment of what he'll say when she finally works up the courage to confess - as he can't exactly tell her he doesn't feel love for anyone. He quickly forgets her when he sees his specimen.
Shizuo is on the far side of the front desk getting instructions from the librarian. His back might be to Izaya, but he's very distinctive and Izaya hasn't been blind while observing him for months.
His polite smile vanishes from his face and Izaya barely has enough time to duck into the nearest row of shelves when Shizuo turns around with a stack of huge boxes in his strong arms, gripped tightly by those big hands of his.
It's important to make note of all things. Izaya reasons to himself. That's what it means to observe.
Izaya ducks through a few more bookcases, crouching down behind one as he peers through the cracks and telling himself that hiding from his Shizu-chan is definitely not weird. There's no need for an observer to disturb the wildlife.
Shizuo walks to the back of the library with the stack of boxes where the storage closet is and Izaya follows him through the shelves. At the door, rather than placing the cumbersome stack on the ground while he finagles the keys into the sticky lock, Shizuo effortlessly balances the stack in one hand while working the lock with the other.
Red eyes widen and glimmer between the bookcase shelves, captivated as always by Shizuo's strength. Even domestic displays of his abnormality never fail to leave Izaya wanting more. More of… something Izaya refuses to think about as he swallows around the adrenaline clogging his throat.
Shizuo finally manages to work the lock open with the keys in twice the amount of time it takes Izaya to open it with a few hairpins and brings the boxes into Izaya's first favorite library spot, which had been occupied by the librarian this morning.
Ignoring the buzzing in his veins Izaya sneaks closer to his specimen, stifling a laugh at his own internal nature documentary narration.
Inside the closet Shizuo is arranging the boxes on the highest shelf in the closet with a surprising amount of care that Izaya takes mental note of. He does his best to not observe Shizuo's absolutely unjustifiable height but just can't help remembering how many stacked boxes it takes for him to reach that shelf.
Izaya wonders to himself, just for a moment, what would happen if Shizu-chan were to walk in on him settled into his favorite nook of that closet - surrounded by his hoard of books and notebook paper. Would Shizu-chan recognize him? What would he say? Would he call Izaya a weirdo?
Would he wonder what Izaya was doing? Would he listen to Izaya's notes?
It doesn't matter. No one's ever caught him before. There's no reason Shizuo would be the one to catch him.
Izaya follows Shizuo carefully as he walks back up towards the front of the library when suddenly, Shizuo stops just two shelves past Izaya.
Izaya freezes and his heart pounds the way it only seems to with Shizuo, and Izaya relishes in the feeling of… Feeling something.
Did Izaya give himself away on accident? What caught Shizuo's interest? Izaya watches, wide-eyed as Shizuo ducks into the row he stopped by. Two rows in front of Izaya.
Taking a chance, Izaya slinks up one row for a better view. He doesn't take the risk of losing the last row of cover between them yet. Not so soon after their last interaction.
Shizuo appears to be flipping through a book.
Izaya clutches the shelf closest to him with buzzing fingers, pure, childlike excitement bubbling up to flush his cheeks and draw him up on the balls of his feet as he cranes his neck in unbearable curiosity.
Shizu-chan grunts to himself, almost too quiet to make out, "...stinks."
Izaya blinks and sniffs the air carefully. What stinks? Izaya can't smell anything different. Does he not like the book?
Apparently not as Shizuo tucks the book under his arm and walks to the front desk to check the book out. Shizuo slips the book into his bag and out of sight before Izaya can get a look at the cover and leaves the library.
Unable to contain himself, Izaya practically rips his field notes out of his bag and flounders for his pen before remembering that he put it behind his ear again. Izaya uncaps the pen with his mouth and crouches to balance the notebook on his knee as he scribbles down the scene he just witnessed, words stumbling over each other out of shaky hands and occasionally beginning one word with the first letter of what will be the next word in his haste to spill all the details and rapidly-forming theories onto paper. Not even bothering to adjust the glasses steadily slipping down his nose.
Then Izaya remembers that he should probably add a fourth perspective to his research on deviancy. There are many philosophers to consider.
Outside the library, the scent that had seemed to follow Shizuo had finally disappeared. It was an odd smell. Faint and bitter, a tinge of sweet and hard to place. The memory of red eyes came to Shizuo, but he tried to brush it off. He had been thinking of them without meaning to all day and the only reason the image was more vivid this time was because he was just in the library where he met the weird guy.
It had been awhile since he had checked out a book. Being the young "future criminal with no prospects" that he was according to everyone except for his brother was the strongest deterrent against education he had ever felt. Not to mention being preoccupied with corporal punishment and brawls.
This book sounded pretty cool though, had enough nostalgia of childhood dreams attached to overcome his ever-present bad mood to bring home and read. He just hoped it wouldn't get ruined if another pack of idiots decided to jump him on the way home.
Nostalgia is a dangerous thing, especially when those very same childhood dreams had been snuffed out so soon. But sometimes, Shizuo just can't help himself. He'll lose himself in these pages and dream those childhood dreams only his brother knows about.
Shizuo sighs, feeling weaker than usual after another long day at school and fishes through his pockets for a crumpled pack of cigarettes.