The ping that sounds from Shizuo's computer is more than enough to make him twitch in mild surprise. He wasn't expecting it, that's for certain, and is quick to make sure the computer knows that too - by promptly fixing a glare at the offending machine across the room as if it will do anything to lessen his shock. After a half-hearted browse through the site he'd just joined, Shizuo has shifted himself away towards the window of his apartment, set on burning through another cigarette or too. It's where he still is when the little chime comes from his computer, a thin cigarette tucked between two fingers. The doubts have been spinning around since he completed his profile, and a smoke has always calmed him and helped to clear any muddle of thoughts that threaten to overwhelm him.
The computer pings again. Shizuo doesn't use it often, but he knows enough to recognise it as the sound of his email inbox. As he lifts the cigarette to his lips for another drag, he half wonders if he should just toss the machine out of the window now, if only to save the irritation bubbling under his skin already at the sound, or any future hassle. Truth be told, he feels awkward in the online world. He makes use of the Dollars page certainly, but it's never too often or to the point where he feels entirely at ease with the internet circle. This situation especially throws him, because it's something so personal, and it's vastly different to an online gang of sorts. Shizuo isn't certain the way he's supposed to go about this - and that's half of the reason for the doubts that choke his mind. He wonders why he thought this was a good idea when he has no idea the rules or steps to go through in this strange, alien world of online connections. Is he supposed to find someone and make the first steps - or is it simply okay for him to sit, and wait, and hope for someone to come to him? Worse still, when that stage is met, what is he supposed to say when it comes to talking of himself? He's already lied about his name, but sooner or later Shizuo is certain the person on the other end would put the pieces together - that, or he'd end up slipping up, accidentally throwing in something that would give away who he really is far too soon.
He doubts knowledge of who he is will get the interest rolling in - after all, being himself as yielded no luck this far in his life. People fear him, because of the things he can do, because of the side they see when Izaya is around taunting and teasing - anyone on this site would run from that, he's certain, because no one stays around long enough to see the truth; that the strength and temper he has been born with is more of a curse to him than to anyone.
Shizuo takes another drag of the fading cigarette, tapping the ash on the end into the little dish perched on the ledge beside him. The smoke curls upwards as he exhales, dancing towards the ceiling before it catches on the breeze from the window to escape outwards, into the world. He thinks sometimes that it's the smoke that calms him more than the addictive nature of this habit, though the latter naturally plays a part too. The way it twists and whirls through the air before it dissipates is so free - as it it moves for no one or no thing but itself. In his darker moments, Shizuo contemplates how peaceful it would be to be smoke, able to live his life with that same amount of freedom. Yet he knows that's something he'll never be allowed to do. There'll always be someone out there seeking to make his life more difficult, no matter how much he craves the quiet. Whether it be some street thug seeking to improve his own reputation by challenging Shizuo, or the sharp barbs of a louse from Shinjuku, it doesn't matter. He's been cursed with a dismal ability that has dealt his hand for him, granted him a life that means violence will simply follow him wherever he wants. He breaths it now, and lives it, and all Shizuo wants its for it to go away. What kind of fool would want a life like his anyway - a life so ruled by anger that even he has no control when it hits? Those who walk in the shadows of the city know nothing, Shizuo has decided long ago, they don't know how lucky they are, and yet they throw it all away for lives of bloodshed and crime.
Another ping sounds from the computer, coaxing a growl from between his lips. It's low, husky, rolling from his throat and tainted with the burn of his current emotion. Shizuo's always been the sort to wear his mood on his sleeve, even in the privacy of his own home. He stubs out the cigarette when he's finished, pushing himself away from the window to return again to his computer. There's a little icon flashing in the corner of his screen when he reaches it, a little white envelope outlined in flashing red - apparently just in case the computer thought the obnoxious pings weren't enough to get his attention. He can half imagine the battered machine grinning up at him, as if teasing his lack of skill in the technological world, and for a moment the urge to just toss it at the nearest hard surface seems so sweet. (The wall, he thinks, would be most appropriate. He's never like the wallpaper much anyway.)
Despite the spice of the cigarette he's just finished still on his tongue, there's a nervousness that tingles under his skin as Shizuo sits down at the desk again. He knows that he signed up for the site for the purpose of finding someone, but now that there's a chance that someone has found him, he's not so certain. It's almost ironic, to a point, that someone so capable of destruction can feel so afraid of a new email he's yet to even see - yet it stops Shizuo from swallowing hard no less as he clicks to open the inbox. The email server takes far too long to load, and Shizuo can feel the nerves slipping into irritation each second that passes. He can feel it bubbling up inside, and wills it to load already if only to end it. Yet if this turned out to be some punk winding him up, he's not sure what he'll do. He thinks the computer might be the first to go, meeting an early end, and then the potted plot that sits beside it - a gift from Tom when he first moved in.
The email that waits for him is spam. It's obviously slipped past the junk mail filter, promising this or that in return for a small fee, Shizuo isn't sure what exactly because he's quick to delete it with another growl. His stomach feels as if it's been abruptly plunged several hundred feet. The disappointment is tangible, and he could almost laugh at himself for being so foolish to get his hopes up as he clearly has done. "Tch. Idiot." Acknowledging his own ridiculousness doesn't do anything to lessen the feeling though, and Shizuo feels sick as he pushes the chair away from the desk. The irritation burns even more hotly as he tears his face from the screen, willing down the swell of emotion that's threatening to bubble over. This was a stupid idea from the very beginning, and this only proves it. How could he have thought it was ever going to pan out if he entertained the notion of it? He was a monster, after all, was he not? - and no one can love a monster except one of its own kind.
Shizuo turns back to the computer to shut it down, done with this little experiment as far as he's concerned. As his mouse hovers over the exit button for the internet browser, however, a ping sounds again. This time, his inbox is already opened, so he doesn't have to face the anxious wait to open it - and this time, it's not just a spam message that greets him. Instead, nestled in Shizuo's inbox and blinking up with a little 'unread message!' icon is an email from the very site he's recently signed up to. There's a slight shake to his hand as he shifts the mouse across to open it, even despite himself. It's nothing overwhelming, one of the automated messages informing him that he's got several new messages in his inbox on the site itself - and giving him a quick link to check them.
There's a pause as Shizuo reads it, takes it all in, because what does this mean? He was so ready to be done with this whole thing, but now there's a chance- a slither of hope, and he's stuck on whether to take it or not. It could be nothing, but it could turn out to be something - and as he clicks the link to his other inbox, Shizuo muses when he got so desperate. It's like some dark thing tucked away in the back of his mind, something he knew but would never admit to; because if he lets out something like a cliched desire to be loved, what is to stop him falling to pieces when that wish never came true? He's strong and he's angry, but underneath it all, Shizuo is no monster - he has a heart capable of being shattered. The more numb he stays to it all, the less it stings when people run kicking and screaming from him.
There are five new messages in his inbox, waiting and ready, when the page finishes loading. Shizuo's brows knit together in a frown - was it normal to get this many, this quickly? He doesn't know how this kind of thing works, and he's definitely not used to this much apparent attention. The nerves are back as Shizuo swallows, preparing himself to read through them. For anyone else, this might well be easy - but he's never been especially good with others, and that's something that doesn't change in his online interactions. There's a distinct contrast to the image everyone holds of him, and how he actually is, and there's no denying that most would be surprised to discover how shy Shizuo Heiwajima can actually be. There's an mild uncertainty to his actions, and anyone who knows him can tell that the aloof, grouchy nature is nothing more than a front. Deep beneath lurks the innocence and quiet that rings in his very name.
He's uncertain now as he turns to the first message - deciding he might as well start with the person who's been waiting the longest. Shizuo isn't sure if that's the way he's expected to go about things here, but for lack of any prior knowledge to how this all works, he figures he'll follow his gut. The text that greets him in it is nothing good though, and neither is the text that follows in any of the three following messages. They're crude and they're crass and he deletes them as quickly as he reads them - because it's obvious that they're only here for one thing, and it's not the same thing as Shizuo. He's all but given up again by the time he reaches the last email, and his hopes aren't that high as it loads. He's coming to see that people like him on sites like these seem to be rare - or perhaps if they're not he's just been exceedingly unlucky in attracting only those just looking for a quick hook-up.
Yet as before, just as Shizuo is resigned and ready to throw in his metaphorical towel, a tinge of hope springs to life. This message is only short, yet it rings with more sincerity than any of the previous messages. There's a curiosity ignited in him, a bubble of something he can't quite place, as he re-reads it again. Is this proof his gamble on this site was worth it after all? It can't hurt to try, that same, quiet voice from the back of his head chimes in. But how does he even go about replying, about starting this thing off? Monsters aren't used to dealing with things like love and romance - especially not dating websites, and Shizuo Heiwajima is no exception. Fumbling for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket, Shizuo isn't certain. He can only hope the calming twirl of smoke and the spice of another will provide enough clarity for him to follow through with it.
'Your profile says you like to eat sweet things. I wonder,
does that include me? . . .Just kidding! I couldn't resist.
- I'm Nakura, how do you do?'