Shizuo Heiwajima is a monster — if the word on the street is to be believed.
His strength, incredible and terrifying, is the first and last thing that people ever seem to know about him; as well as being something that has clung to Shizuo for as long as he can remember. Ever since he was little, he's been stronger than he should be. His bones had cracked under the pressure of it when he'd been younger — but each time repairing themselves harder and stronger until his body was all but titanium, unable to break. It was a gift, or perhaps a curse — Shizuo has never been quite sure which. It scared people though, that much he's certain of. His power, the ease of which he can lift a van and send it careening through the air, of course it scares them. His temper flares when it shouldn't, and despite his hatred of violence, it bites harsh and hot when unleashed. What reasonable being wouldn't be chased away by something like that? They see him as a monster, and monsters never earn the happy ending in childhood tales. Shizuo knows that much too.
And it scares him to know, more than almost anything. He's a monster to most, but there's no truth to that really. Shizuo Heiwajima is a man like any other, and he wants to build connections in his world, he wants to find love. He's well aware that his strength scares away most people, whether possible lovers or friends, anyone who holds his interest is driven away in the end. He fears too, that on the rare happening someone stayed he'd prove everyone right and break them all too easily. The woman he'd known when he was younger is proof enough of that — he'd tried to help her, and only ended up making things worse, hurting her in the long run after all the kindness she'd paid him. He's concerned that love will never really give him a chance — though he'll be damned before admitting that to anyone.
He has his brother, he supposes, though their relationship is far from perfect. It's not the cookie cut image that he sees in some of the movies Kasuka stars in or the books he reads when he's feeling the need to escape into some world other than his own. It's an affection from afar, and Shizuo has often wondered over the years whether or not Kasuka cares as much as he does. His brother has always been indifferent, after all, and the time they spend together these days is few and far between. Yet there's no one else that Shizuo can really say he loves, or that loves him in return. Shinra and Celty and Tom — do they really count?Shizuo isn't sure about that either. He trusts them, they're friends, but there are parts of him that they have yet to see. High school and the years gone by have conjured up no magic figure to sweep away his heart, and he remains as naïve to the world of love as when he was little. It's all foreign to him, uncharted waters he's heard of and read about but never gotten the chance to explore himself.
But what if he never gets the chance? He is a monster after all.
Shizuo isn't sure who's thrust flyer for some dating site underneath his door. If this is supposed to be a joke, he thinks the person behind it must have some kind of death wish. It's all in poor taste, and he feels a bitterness on his tongue just looking at the damn thing, as if it's speaking aloud to mock him for his failings — to mock his ability to drive everyone away. His next immediate thought is that Izaya is the one behind it all, because when something goes sour in his life, it's nearly always as a result of his manipulating fingers. Yet as much as Shizuo loathes Izaya, he knows him now, in all the years they've had unfolded together — and he knows that if this were his doing, he'd have stuck around to see Shizuo's reaction; nor better still, given it to him in person. And so thought number three quickly wheels in — Tom or Celty. They're the only others who know where he lives, the only others who mght have some kind of twisted motivation for sliding it under his door.
With a grumble that's almost a growl, he crumples the paper quickly, tossing it to the floor without much more thought. It skids, unassuming and harmless, across the laminate to rest beside his desk. And really, Shizuo tries to ignore the crumpled flyer after that. His apartment isn't out of control, but it's not pristine either. It shouldn't have been hard to ignore another bunched up addition to his floor — yet as the day wears on, it gets just that little bit harder to leave it there. It was stupid, pathetic really, that something so small and ridiculous could have him unable to enjoy a cigarette without snatching glances at it ever two drags.
Eventually, his will crumbles. Shizuo stops by his computer to nudge the on button as he reaches down to collect the offending paper. No one needs to know, no one will know, right? Tom isn't going to come barging in to check his computer, and Celty wasn't going to nose through his emails. If nothing comes of this, or no one replies then too fucking bad, that's that and no one need be any the wiser for it.
It takes a while. Shizuo's computer is old and beaten up from times that he's hit it in frustration, and he sees no need to get a new one when he hardly uses this one — or when it's at such constant risk of destruction from his own hands. He's already gone through another cigarette by the time if finally boots up and the internet is connected. It's left the air around him hanging with the spicy scent of smoke, and it's relaxing. Probably for the best, all things considered, Shizuo thinks. It takes him a while to figure out the site too. He's not technology's biggest fan, and his slow typing takes time. There is nothing speedy about Shizuo Heiwajima, something that would no doubt seem ironic to any who see him fly across the streets when his rages hit. It takes him even longer to figure out what to say in his profile. He's so uncertain and so embarrassed that he almost just exits this whole thing entirely before he's begun. What does he know about what people want to hear? He throws some words together, stringing enough sentences side by side to give a reasonably clear picture of him — or so he imagines from what he's told the internet. His name is a lie, and he leaves off the profile photo. ( They're the kinds of things that would give him away too easily, and end his chances before he even got to taste them. ) But everything else is true.
Tall, blonde, enjoys basking in the sun and sweet foods.
This was all one last chance to give love a try.
( Even if this was something new. )
When he can feel himself starting to get worked up by it, Shizuo saves the profile. He lights himself another cigarette, before he turns his attention to a rather shy browse through the other members of the site he's just joined. He wonders how long his resolve will last before it crumbles again and he gives up on this venture. It's so unlike him he almost laughs, but maybe that's been his problem all along. Stubborn and hard, perhaps he does need to give up something to stumble into love — is that why they call it falling ? If there's someone out there who can love a monster like him, Shizuo thinks that maybe falling wouldnt be too bad after all.