Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BEEP! BEE-

SLAM!

As soon as the incessant blaring of the alarm clock started, it had stopped. Izaya brought his clenched fist down hard against the button, stopping the sound from leaving the confines of his dark room. He would have felt drowsy, maybe had some difficulty in opening his eyes, that was if he had ever closed them to begin with. Though as it was, after staring at the glowing numbers for something akin to seven and a half hours, Izaya still felt no desire to leave his bed. He felt as though he could stare at that clock feeling numb for the rest of his life.

But the world would not wait for him. He knew that better than anyone. As much as he loved his precious humans he knew they would leave him behind if he so much as just indulged in the idea of spending his time feeling sorry for himself.

And so Izaya flipped back the covers of his bed. He showered under blisteringly hot water and dressed in his school uniform with a robotic apathy. He brushed his teeth and gathered his things for school all the while the sun still slept. By the time he had made it outside and started on his way along the path, he was already feeling a little more like himself. With the sun warming his pale skin and the bustle of humanity starting its day, Izaya could feel his mood rise to the point where he found it a little easier to put a skip in his step and a smirk on his face.

Once he had made it through the school gates, he was confident enough that he could fool anyone into thinking he was exactly the same as he had always been.

…………

Once Shizuo was sat in his chair, he slumped over the desk and put his head in his arms. He tried his best to block out the white noise of classroom chatter and squeezed his eyes shut tight. When the throbbing pressure inside his skull became to much, he pressed the knuckles of a clenched fist into his temple in some kind of an effort to alleviate the pain.

“Heiwajima!” Shizuo shot upright at the sudden yell of his name only to find the stern glare of the teacher pointing in his direction. “My class is not for napping. If you are feeling unwell please make your way to the infirmary.”

The blonde sighed deeply, it was obvious enough by now that he was not her favourite student. Knowing he was unable to resume his nap else he felt the wrath of his teacher, Shizuo merely made him self comfortable in preparation to stare at the board in a drowsy stupor for the next hour or so.

…………

The moment Shizuo heard the bell ring for break, he was taking quick strides out of the classroom, eager to get away from the claustrophobic mass of people. Of course not without a shadow at his heels.

“Shizuo!” Shinra practically chirped in the blonde’s ear, doing his best to match his long strides as they walked towards to staircase leading to the roof. “Wasn’t that a great lesson? I can't help but find trigonometric functions so fascinating~”

“Yeah, it was great” Shizuo mumbled trying not to let Shinra’s enthusiasm increase the pressure in head by any. However, it was proving to be a difficult feat.

“Now I know your lying! You looked like you were sleeping with your eyes open for most of the class.” Shinra chuckled to himself, finding the blonde’s apparent suffering to be somewhat amusing. Shizuo had to repress the sudden urge to push him back down the few stairs they had already covered.

Although, his hostility must have shown in the more prominent hunch of his shoulders and scowl on his face because Shinra sent him a questioning glance.

“What’s wrong? You seem more grumpy than usual.” And then, “Did Izaya do something?” Despite the obvious teasing in Shinra’s tone, Shizuo still felt his muscles tense at the mention of that scheming fleabag.

“Nah, just got a headache.” Shinra hummed at that, stepping in front of Shizuo to push open the door to the roof.

“Yo, Shinra. Shizuo.”

“Kadota! I hope you weren’t waiting long~” Shinra chirped while bounding over to their shared friend, making himself comfortable of the ground beside him.

“Hey” Shizuo mumbled while taking a seat on the other side of Kadota, who had — along with Shinra — already brought out his lunch.

“Woah, that’s a sour face. You all right Shizuo?” Kadota took one look at the blonde’s brooding expression and felt he had to ask. “It’s not Izaya is it…”

Shizuo was too busy trying to not grit his teeth at the memory of that good for nothing bastard that he didn't notice Kadota’s uncharacteristically serious expression directed his way.

“Nope! He’s just being grumpy because he has a headache.” Immediately shooting a glare towards to brunette, Shinra simply brushed it of and kept babbling, oblivious to the tense atmosphere he created by just mentioning Izaya’s name around Shizuo. “I asked him the same thing. But Izaya hasn't been around school a lot recently anyway. Not that that’s enough of a reason for you to stop hating him.”

Before the blonde could say anything, Kadota spoke again with a stern gaze to match his serious tone. “I was going to say, if Izaya had done something, to just go easy on him this time around. I mean with everything that has been going on.”

Shizuo just sat confused, but before he could refute with something along the lines of ‘Why the hell would I ever go easy on that damn louse’ Shinra joined Kadota with a relatively somber, concerned expression.

“Are you talking about Izaya’s mum?”

“What does his mum have to do with anything?” Shizuo immediately cut in, not liking this feeling of being out of the loop. Not that he would usually care about anything to do with Izaya.

Kadota and Shinra shared a knowing glance as if silently communicating whether or not they should let him in on this news, and that only frustrated him further. Kadota spoke up first.

“Izaya’s mum was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago and has been in hospital since. My aunt is a nurse there and she told me that she doesn't have long left. She might be gone by the end of the week, maybe sooner.”

“Wow, I knew things were bad but I had no idea she had such little time left.” As soon as Shinra finished he sent a dark glare towards Shizuo. “And before you say something insensitive like ‘he got what was coming to him’ let me remind you he has two little sisters that I doubt have done anything to deserve that.”

Shizuo flinched at that. Despite how much the words stung he couldn't help the bitter anger that came with his only friends thinking the absolute worst of him.

“What the hell? As if I would say anything like that!” No one deserved that, he thought. Not even that bastard. “I had no idea that was happening. I didn't even know he had sisters.” Shizuo spoke quieter now. He felt his stomach tug with sympathy. He couldn't imagine losing one of his parents, or anyone he cared about for that matter. That was a kind of universal pain he knew he couldn't really understand, but could definitely sympathise with.

“I wonder what will happen to them afterwards.” Shinra mused, startling the blonde out of his thoughts. “Like if Izaya will have to move away.”

Shizuo had to immediately reprimand himself for thinking what an incredible gift that would be.

“What do you mean?” Kadota sent Shinra a confused look, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Well, Izaya doesn't have a dad. He left when he was young I think. So that means him and his sisters will probably go into the foster care system, and who knows where they'll end up or if they'll get to stay together.”

Shizuo felt his stomach drop even further. Suddenly, the flea’s scarce appearance the past month or so made a lot more sense. At first he had thought Izaya had been up to something, dark scheming in the shadows as usual, corrupting something innocent with his manipulative ways. But now, he understood that he was probably just grieving, the same as any other person. Shizuo felt sick.

It always hurt to realise Izaya was more human than he had originally thought.

…………

Izaya sat atop of the chain link fence surrounding the schools perimeter, eyes searching for a certain blonde mop of hair. If one thing was for certain it was that tormenting Shizuo always put him in a better mood, and so waiting after school for the idiot hardly felt like a drag. The opposite in fact, he could hardly keep still. The muscles in his legs trembled with the anticipation of a chase, with the opportunity to release all his pent up anger and frustration in a fight. He sat ready to leap the moment he would hear heavy feet bounding his way.

But they never came.

Instead, Izaya startled at the familiar figure standing a few feet away from him out of the corner of his eye. Not expecting the blonde to make such a quiet appearance and much less just stand there staring at him for who knew how long.

“Shizu-chan~” Izaya quickly replaced his startled expression with the usual smirk, and dropped his voice into a singsongy lilt. “That isn't like you to make such a non-destructive entrance, you’re losing your touch.” Izaya watched Shizuo's fists clench at his side and his scowl deepen into something more familiar. He let his fingers take a firm hold on the handle of the blade in his jacket pocket, ready to fend off an attack at a moments notice.

“Izaya” Shizuo grit out the ravens name with a surprising calm. Enough to confuse Izaya even before Shizuo simply spun on heel and walked off.

“Huh?” Izaya could only stare dumbfounded at the blonde’s retreating back, and felt all of the anger surge tenfold inside him. Jumping down from the fence, he felt his body move on his own as he drew the knife from his pocket and pointed it at the back of Shizuo’s head.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing monster?” Izaya, who usually prided him self on his emotional control couldn’t hold back the venom laced in his voice.

Shizuo turned around to face an absolutely seething Izaya, more than a little shocked at the unfamiliar display. Never before had he seen the smirking bastard look so unstable and not in control of his emotions. It was a frightening sight to have the calm and collected Izaya he knew so well and hated disappear with the blink of an eye. Instead he was left staring at someone he almost didn't recognise. Someone who looked as though they were less than a second away from planting that knife deep between Shizuo’s eyes, just for turning his back on an inevitable fight.

Before Shizuo could let the red cloud his vision he had to remind himself what this was: Grief. Izaya was angry and hurt and he was taking it out on whoever he could. Not unlike what Shizuo would probably be doing himself in his situation.
“What does it look like? I’m giving you a free pass. I don't feel like fighting today.” Shizuo released his words with as much calm as he could muster, already feeling the familiar anger drain out of him. He could now only feel sympathy for the intense rage and frustration he knew all too well etched into Izaya’s features.

However, to Shizuo’s dismay, this only seemed to anger the raven further.

Izaya felt his fists clench almost painfully around the knife he still held threateningly in Shizuo’s direction. He felt as though he was suffocating. The bubbling mix of anger and confusion tearing him apart from the inside. And what’s worse, it wasn't even Shizuo he was angry at, not really. But this mix of emotions were proving to be too overwhelming to handle, and to Izaya’s utter horror, his vision started to blur.

The fact that he was emotionally compromised in front of Shizu-chan was embarrassing enough, but if Izaya cried in front of him to match he was sure he would never live it down. So before all dignity was lost Izaya quickly turned away from the blonde, cursing his current fragility.

Thankfully the sudden chime of ringtone brought his attention away from any further degradation on his part. Izaya pulled the phone from his back pocket and stole a glance at the screen still lit from an incoming message. He immediately recognised the number as the Ikebukuro General hospital, as he had frequently been receiving updates on his mother.

Izaya felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat at the foreboding message that awaited him on the screen. It wasn't as though he hadn't prepared for it, he's had long enough for that. Though that wasn't to say he didn't feel the intense swell of nausea that rose within his stomach, just that he had been practicing enough to fake composure.

After feeling as though he had put on a mask thick enough to hide what he was currently feeling, Izaya turned back around half expecting to find Shizuo gone from his sight. But there he stood. Still silently staring, maybe with his mouth a little more agape at the glassy look he thought he had captured in the raven’s eyes prior to him turning away.

“Sorry Shizu-chan, I guess we’ll have to play another time.” Izaya spoke as calm as he could manage at that moment and started to make in the opposite direction. He half expected Shizuo to suddenly be at his heels, to snap out of whatever stupor it looked as though he was in and chase after his retreating form. Just like it had always been.

The raven kept walking at an even pace, taking deep steady breaths if only to ease the still building nausea. Only once the school was out of sight did he explode into a sprint, all the while constantly re-reading the message still open on his phone.

Orihara-san, your mother has passed away in her sleep. I am very sorry for your loss. I must advise you to return as soon as possible.

Though he knew his sisters had been staying at the hospital with his aunt, he could only hope by some chance that they hadn't been there when it happened. They were too young to experience something like that.

Chapter Text

There was no reason for Izaya to be panting as much as he was. He’s run further from Shizu-chan, faster too. And whatever exhaustion placed upon him from the run to the hospital, surely would have worn off after the quick strides through lobby and elevator ride to one of the uppermost floors.

No, there’s no reason for him to be this anxious.

All he had to focus on right now was finding his sisters and keeping them safe. As much as he hated to admit it, he was in unfamiliar territory. There was no intricate plan to be executed. Who knew what would happen from here on out, where Izaya knew he had little to no control.

He refused to admit that this was what scared him more than anything.

Soon enough he found himself in front of the room that had become a second home to him and his sisters over the past few months. Though looking at it now, pristine and disinfected, as though no one had ever lived there at all, made him feel sick to his stomach. There was nothing left of his mother’s presence, nothing that told him she had been laying there only hours ago. It was almost as if she had never existed at all.

Izaya felt his eyes glass over anew and his hand clench the doorframe — at which he leant against — painfully hard. A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him from ruminating any further.
He turned around to find the familiar face of his aunt, frowning softy down at him. Before he could speak, she crouched down and circled her arms around him in a gentle embrace. While he would usually feel uncomfortable being in the arms of someone he really didn't know that well — or anyone for that matter — Izaya could sense that the hug was probably just as much for her as it was for him. Though after a few seconds of still composure, he felt something break inside him at the thought that this was as close as he would get to ever hugging his mother again. He found his hands easily clung to the back of her blouse and buried his head in the side of her neck. They’ve always looked painfully similar, his mother once told him they were often mistaken as twins when they were children. Right now, Izaya thought she even smelt like her and he cursed himself for being so human.

After what felt like the longest hug he’d ever had, Izaya removed himself from his aunt’s embrace and scrubbed at his watery eyes with the sleeve of his school jacket.

“Where ar-” Before Izaya could finish, the girls in question sprinted around the corner from where his aunt had appeared moments ago.

“Iza-nii…”

Izaya looked down to see the two red puffy faces of his little sisters. Hand in hand. Mairu with her long brown braids and Kururi with her short, choppy hair. Even as twins he had never seen them look so similar. Both stared up at him with trembling lips and a silent plea. Even Mairu, who often never knew when to stop talking only whispered his name. Seeing the girl’s bloodshot eyes start pouring anew Izaya felt as though he would burst into tears the moment he spoke. So instead he got on both of his knees and pulled the two small bodies into his arms. He felt each pair of tiny hands fist themselves in his jacket that soon became soaked at each shoulder with snot and tears, but Izaya couldn't care less.

He just held on tighter, as though this would too slip from his grasp. Nothing else mattered to him. From now on his life would revolve around these two and giving them the best life he could manage. Even if he had to live on the run from the system forever, or had to sell himself to keep their home, or drop out of school and forge a new identity, one that could look after them. Whatever it took, he would do it.

He told himself there’s nothing he wouldn't do to keep them safe.

………….

As soon as Shizuo made it into his room, his school bag was thrown into a corner and he flopped stomach-first onto the bed. He let out a long sigh before pushing up to lean on his elbows as he fished through the pockets of his school slacks for his phone. The blonde only hesitated for a few seconds before he started typing out a message to Shinra.

[3:39] Shizuo: Hey, I ran into Izaya after school and he was acting really weird. He looked like he was about to cry before he ran off.

Shizuo didn't know why he was even asking, of course the flea was acting weird, he was a weird flea! And with what had been apparently going on with him he was surprised he hadn't broken down into tears sooner. Shizuo thought he certainly would have. I just need to talk to someone, thought Shizuo. He wasn't used to this new flea that he had to tread lightly around. It was unfamiliar. He was so used to just letting his anger take the reins and push him wherever he need to go, often barrelling in Izaya’s direction.

[3:42] Shinra: Well that doesn't surprise me right now.
[3:42] Shinra: Listen Shizuo, I just got a message from Kadota when I got home. He said his aunt told him Izaya’s mum passed away today, just a few hours ago. I know you probably don’t care but I just thought I should let you know so you don't say something insensitive to him in the future.

Shizuo bristled, again with thinking the worst of him. Did he really give off that bad of an impression? Then again he knew he didn't exactly have the best track record, and he did always say how much he hated the flea. There was just no way he could ever kick someone while they’re down like that. He knew that much about himself.

[3:43] Shinra: Just be careful around him. I know you might find it hard to believe but he’s more fragile than he looks.

Shinra was right, he did find that hard to believe. Well, he did until today at least.

[3:45] Shizuo: Yeah, I know. And don’t worry, I will.

Shizuo shut off his phone and threw it towards the end of his bed somewhere. He felt so exhausted that once he closed his eyes it didn't take long to fall in a heavy, peaceful slumber.

………….

Izaya sat on the uncomfortable bench with his head against the wall and his eyes closed. His hands continually patted the two heads resting in his lap. His aunt had left in search of coffee from a vending machine a few minutes ago and she had yet to return. His left him alone — besides his sleeping sisters — in the cold hospital lobby. They had asked him to sit and wait while they organised the various papers to sign, no doubt some involving the medical expenses he was sure had accumulated since his mum’s stay here.

His head hurt just thinking about it. What they were going to do now, how he was going to afford everything. He knew his mum had set aside a far bit of money for him for university before she had been diagnosed. However, three months without her working meant he had already used up the majority of what was left in their account. And that was mostly on the minimal and cheapest food he had been buying, along with things like rent and electricity. As it was, he didn't make enough himself part-time to support two children and a high schooler. He knew those university funds were going to disappear just as quick after he paid for these hospital bills and the funeral. Never mind the upcoming school fees or clothes for his growing sisters. He knew they couldn’t live on ready-made meals forever as well.

His aunt did help out where she could but she was a single parent working a low figure job, she didn't exactly have a lot to spare. The girls had been staying there on weekends, when Izaya needed a chance to work and they needed some actual sustenance from food they couldn't afford. Though that didn't mean that could continue forever. She lived more than a few hours away and there definitely wasn't enough space for the three of them long-term. The girls had already missed too much school as well. They both had.

Izaya flinched as the phone in his pocket buzzed loudly against the plastic bench, interrupting a tense silence for most waiting in the lobby. He pulled it out as best he could with his lap currently occupied and was careful to not drop it on the head of a sleeping angel.

[3:59] Shinra: Hey, Izaya. I heard what happened and I’m really sorry for your loss. I know we aren't exactly the kind of friends that talk much but you are my friend. I know you don't really have anywhere to go right now so i’m offering my place. Dad is out of town for the week with Celty so there’s plenty of room, even if it’s just for tonight. I don't think you should be alone right now.
[4:00] Shinra: :)

Izaya sighed at the message. It’s not as though he didn't appreciate the offer because he did. It’s just that it was bad enough he had already been seen in such a fragile state by Shizu-chan of all people. He really didn't need to increase the witnesses to his vulnerability by any more. So he stuffed the phone back into his pocket without answering and told himself he’d rather be alone.

“Orihara-san?”

Izaya looked up at the sudden call of his name. After the nurse a few meters away motioned for him to follow her, he left his chair as quietly as he could while supporting his sister’s heads and then let them settle softly on the jacket he left folded on his seat. The nurse finished scribbling something on her clipboard as he approached, smiling sweetly.

“Sorry to bother you, but if I could just take up a bit of your time there are some documents I need you to look over.”

Izaya nodded politely and followed her to sit in a pair of chairs in the waiting room. Close enough to his sisters that he could keep and eye on them but far enough that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard should they wake up. The nurse pushed her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and held her clipboard covered with papers in front of the raven.

“If you could just sign at the bottom of these two papers, they will confirm that your mother’s body can be moved to the morgue for storage until the funeral takes place.”

Izaya swallowed the lump in his throat and drew his elaborate signature across the line on both pages.

“And now this one here is just to confirm the hospital fees. A copy of this will also be mailed to your current address.”

Izaya held his breath while that one was placed in his lap with the clipboard for support. The total figure he laid eyes upon at the bottom of the page almost had him in tears. Well, i’ll be paying that off for the rest of my life, he thought.

“And finally, I need to talk to you about your living situation. I’ve been told you have been staying with your aunt the past few months, is that what you will continue to do?”

“Yes, we have been.” I was a bit of a stretch, he realised. Only his sisters had been staying with her and only on weekends. “However, we now have a different family member coming to stay with us for the time being.” Izaya easily lied. Though, it seemed the nurse was convinced enough as she wished him well and disappeared behind double doors.

Izaya made his way back over to where he had left his sisters and where his aunt now sat, warming her hands with a can of coffee.

“Everything go all right?” she questioned.

“Yeah, just had to sign a couple of things for the body to be released and bills to be sent.” he sighed before slumping down in the chair next to her. Izaya ran a hand over his face and through his hair before settling it over his eyes.

“The girl’s can stay with me tonight, and until we figure something more permanent out. You’re welcome to as well. What did you tell the nurse?”

“That we had a family member coming to look after us.” He didn't remove his hand as he spoke, only mumbled quietly into the room.

“Well, I know you probably can't miss much more school so I understand if you want to stay home, and I know you can look after yourself. That being said, I really don't think you should be alone right now. Do you maybe have a friend close by that you can spend the night with?”

Izaya finally removed his hand and let it drop into his lap. He let it rest against the shape of his phone in his trouser pocket. His stomach still clenched with anxiety.

“Yeah, I do.”

…………..

The sun was starting to set by the time they made it home. Soft pinks and oranges streaked the sky and the driveway lay bathed in a warm glow. Izaya opened the car door and stepped out of the passenger seat before turning around to watch Mairu and Kururi do the same. The keys jingled in his shaky hands as he unlocked the front door. He didn't bother toeing his shoes of as he stepped inside, he would only be a few minutes.

His aunt followed the girl’s up the stairs and into their room, saying she’d help them pack what they needed. That left Izaya to himself as he made his way into his own room. He pulled out a black backpack and started to stuff it with pyjamas, an extra school shirt for tomorrow, a fresh pair of boxer briefs and socks and the charger for his phone. He then went into the bathroom to add his toothbrush and some deodorant to the backpack, protected in a little ziplock bag.

By the time he was back downstairs the sky had already considerably darkened during the last 10 or so minutes he’d been busy packing. He picked up the school bag he’d dropped next to the front door at his arrival and continued out to the car to throw both bags into the passenger seat. It was after he’d turned around to head back inside that he heard it. The low rumble of an engine coming down the road.

Izaya turned to find a sleek black car rolling slowly down the street, as though they were looking for a house they had no clue where to find. He kept his eyes on the suspicious vehicle as it came closer to the house, only for them to widen as it put on its blinker and pulled into their driveway, slowing to a stop behind his aunt’s.

Izaya slowly made his way over to the car, ready to point out directions to a seemingly lost individual that must have seen his driveway loitering as an invitation to ask for help. It was hard to see through the dark tinted windows so he stood at the drivers side and waited for them to roll the window down. As soon as it did, he watched the driver startle at his presence, as if he had been expecting someone else.

“Are you lost?” Izaya put on his most polite smile and eyed the stranger warily. The stranger looked conflicted for a moment. After he had recovered from the shock, he saw his eyes harden and lips town downward before they eventually settled on a smile similar to Izaya’s. Polite but with a threatening edge.

“No, I don't think so.”

Izaya stepped back as the stranger opened his car door, simultaneously rolling the window back up. He shut the door behind him and turned to face the raven fully.

“Izaya, you’ve… grown.” The man finally settled on, eyeing Izaya up and down.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” Izaya’s eyes harden further and his smile flagged a bit. The man didn't seem perturbed by it at all.

“Ah, last I saw you was quite a while ago. Maybe ten years. What are you now, sixteen?”

Izaya tried to place the face of this man to a memory but he kept coming up short. Although, that was not to say he didn’t recognise him. No, there was something uncannily familiar about the dark shaggy hair and garnet eyes. Before Izaya could open his mouth to reply, he heard the front door shut and footsteps make their way down the driveway.

“Izaya, what’s going on. Who’s car is tha-”

As soon as his aunt came into view she stopped in her tracks. Momentarily confused, recognition eventually hit her and Izaya saw her soft and startled expression turn livid. He watched in slight awe as she stomped up to the newcomer and slapped him clean and sharp across the face. The man appeared indifferent to it, almost as if he had somewhat expected it. He just rubbed his reddening cheek and smiled softy at her.

“It’s nice to see you too, Yuriko.”

Izaya closed his slightly gaping mouth and turned a questioning place towards his aunt, Yuriko. So they know each other? She was, however, too busy glaring daggers at the man to notice Izaya’s current confusion.

“How dare you show up here! And now! After all this time!” She yelled. “After everything you did to my sister, to this family!”

Izaya was floored. The nerve of this woman. He had definitely underestimated her and resolved to never get on her bad side.

The man in question had lost his smile. He now matched her glare with an almost equal ferocity and set frown at his lips.

“This is hardly the time, Yuriko. I know i’ve made my fair share of mistakes but i’m here now and last I checked this is still my house.”

His house? Izaya was thoroughly confused.

Though in any case, this seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Yuriko’s fists clenched even tighter and for a second Izaya thought she might take a swing at the man.

“Kyouko is DEAD!” she yelled. “She’s dead and where were you, huh? Where were you THEN Shirou?”

Shirou?

What?-

Oh…

That Shirou.

Izaya suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of anger hit him. It was so heavy he felt dizzy with the need to pull the knife from his pocket and embed it into the man’s neck. It was all he could do to even his breathing and uncurl the fists at his side. He couldn't look at him. He had to stare at his own black school shoes while he listened to the man talk. He didn't want to see those familiar eyes, too similar to his own.

“I know. I wish I had gotten here sooner. I wished with everything I had that I could have at least gotten to say goodbye. But that’s not what happened, and now i’m here to fix things. I’m here to comfort my kids and take care of them when they will need me the most.” He spoke so calm and collected, as if he was entitled to everything he had been saying was his. As if the last ten years could be so easily brushed aside.

Izaya felt like he was choking. Lucky for him, his aunt had no qualms about speaking her mind whilst still shaking with barely restrained rage.

“Those kids stopped being your’s the day you left them.” She spoke quieter now. Less unbridled fury and more seething with disgust. She turned on her heel and walked with quick strides back to the front door. Where he could now see his two sisters cowering behind it, slightly ajar. He watched as she loaded the girl’s bags into the back of the car before ushering them in as well.

They were only staring at him, looking to their big brother for answers when he had none.

“Izaya, let’s go. I’ll drop you at your friend’s house now.” She called out with a terse voice from inside the car.

Izaya finally lifted his head to look at his father. The father who he had so little memories of and hardly any of them good. He tried to find a detachment from the situation that made his words feel cold and empty. Not unlike how he felt himself at that moment.

“I’ve already agreed to stay at a friend’s house tonight and the girls are staying with Aunt Yuriko. Make yourself at home I guess. I mean it is technically yours anyway.” He watched the man’s brows furrow and his eyes turn sharp against him. “I’ll be back tomorrow, in the afternoon.” He turned then, ignoring the prickling sensation of having someone glare into the back of his head. He got into the passenger seat of the car and sat with a serene calmness that surprised even himself. He buckled up his seatbelt as his aunt pulled out from in front of the black BMW blocking her in and drove to the left across the front lawn to get out, only just missing their mailbox.

It wasn't until they were on the road and had been driving for a few minutes that Izaya felt his tightly coiled muscles unwind a bit. He looked to his right to see that his aunt had also relaxed slightly. Only glancing every so often at the GPS where Izaya had put in Shinra’s address. Though that didn't mean anyone would decide to break the tense silence. Everyone sat quietly, listening to their own breathing. Even the girls were silent. Sensing their confusion was better left unsaid for the moment.

Izaya felt himself drifting off when Yuriko broke the quiet. Still with a deep frown.

“The guy’s a scumbag, so I won't apologise.”

“I don't want you to.” Izaya replied softly.

At that she turned to look at him and smiled sadly.

“I’m surprised you remember him.”

“I don’t.” He interjected. “I just knew he looked familiar and then once you said his name I put it together.”

She hummed quietly and for a while Izaya thought that was the end of the conversation. She spoke again after a few minutes of thought.

“I never really liked him, not since I met him. He was charming and good liar, but I saw right through it. He did love your mum though. I think.” She added. “But after you were born he started to get agitated more easily and he was always going away for work. Your mum would constantly call me up in tears, saying that he was never around anymore and she felt so overwhelmed. When she confronted him about it they always fought too.” She looked to Izaya as though she was studying him. “It broke her heart when he left but I think it was for the best. At least he left her a big chunk of money. He was always loaded and I got the feeling he might’ve been involved in the yakuza or something equally as shady. He was a very intelligent man from what I gathered, that’s probably where you get that from.”

Izaya flinched. He didn't want to be reminded of how much he really did take after the man that had broken his mother’s heart, that was practically a stranger to him.

He hadn't noticed they’d stopped until he looked out of his window and recognised the house they had parked in front of.

“The girls can stay with me for the next couple days or until the school rings. I’ll try to figure something out for after that”

Izaya felt relieved at that, he didn't want them alone in that house anymore. At least not with him there.

“You’re welcome too, if you don't feel safe there. Not that I don't think you can’t handle yourself.” She turned to smile at him and he felt his anxiety deflate a little.

“I’ll be fine. I can’t miss anymore school with exams coming up. Besides, i’ll ask some lawyers I know to try and figure out if there is anything I can do to get him out.”

“Mm, okay. Have fun then. Call me if you need anything.”

He smiled softly at her and stepped out of the door. He picked up both bags off the floor of the car and threw them over his shoulder. He peered into the back of the car, ready to say goodbye to his sisters, only to find them fast asleep on each other. He smiled affectionately at them.

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll talk to them about everything.” Izaya drew his gaze away and forced himself to turn towards the house in front of him.

“Yeah, okay. Bye” he mumbled before closing the car door. As he walked up the front steps, he watched them drive off down the street from the corner of his eye.

Thinking about what was probably waiting for him inside, he had never felt so completely exhausted.

Chapter Text

Shinra was just settling into the couch with a bowl of microwave popcorn when someone knocked at the door. He paused the nondescript action movie that was about to begin and made his way to the door. He did realise that he had invited Izaya over but never thought the other would actually agree to stay the night. Therefore, he couldn't contain his shock when he looked through the peephole to find Izaya staring at his feet with a bag thrown over either shoulder. He wasted no time in unlocking the door and throwing it open to stare at such a strange sight. Izaya Orihara, so full of pride and constantly denying Shinra’s offers for company and attempts at friendship.

“You never replied to my message. I wasn't expecting you.” Shinra tried to contain his excitement, if only to avoid seeming rude when Izaya was obviously in need of comfort.

“Yeah, sorry. I forgot.” He mumbled to the ground, also very un-Izaya-like. Shinra reached out to pull Izaya in by his arm and took his bags for him.

“Well, come on then. I was just about to watch a movie, I made popcorn and everything!” He gestured to the couch, “Here, take a seat. I’ll put your things in my room.” Izaya watched as Shinra scurried down the hall and he himself took a seat on one side of the couch.

He was a little surprised when Shinra came back only to sit down right next to Izaya on the large spacious couch and press play on the movie. He had come prepared for incessant conversational probing and questions, maybe even to listen all night to stories of his beloved Celty. However, he could not express how grateful he was that Shinra had understood his need for quiet. He would even overlook the close contact and refrain from telling Shinra to sit somewhere else on the completely vacant couch that didn't leave their shoulders almost touching.

Despite the foreign environment, it only took a few minutes for Izaya to become completely relaxed. He slumped back into the couch and watched the movie to distract himself from thinking any further. He intermittently stole pieces of popcorn from the bowl in Shinra’s lap, to which Shinra paid no attention. He appeared so completely engrossed in the action-packed sequences that Izaya felt him jump a little when he tilted his head to rest it against Shinra’s shoulder.

Izaya ignored it and found the contact more comforting that he would have thought it to be. He eventually closed his eyes and felt himself drift off. Oblivious to Shinra’s small affectionate smile at having his friend exhibit human emotions, Izaya slept a dreamless sleep while Shinra finished the film and the bowl of popcorn himself.

…………

When Izaya woke up he could not for the life of him remember where he fell asleep. The room was completely dark but for the moonlight coming in through the window. Izaya could make out the TV in front of him and the soft couch under him. Shinra’s, he remembered. Though Shinra was nowhere to be seen, the only telling that he had been there at all was the kitted blanket thrown over Izaya’s body. He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the time. He was shocked to find that it was already eight o’clock.

Izaya stood from the couch and made his way down the hall, using the lit screen of his phone to guide him. He was soon able to pocket the phone as he neared Shinra’s bedroom that was spilling light from under the door. He slowly turned the handle and looked inside the room, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light. Shinra was at his desk, reading from what looked like a math textbook.

“Ah, you’re up. Sorry I didn't wake you, I thought you could use the sleep.” Shinra closed his book and spun around in the swivel chair he sitting in to face Izaya.

“It’s okay, I just wanted to change out of my uniform.” Izaya made his way over to his bags and started rummaging through the backpack, until he pulled out a plain black T-shirt and a grey pair of sweatpants. Shinra turned back around to fiddle with some things on his desk, giving Izaya some privacy to get changed. He turned back around when he saw Izaya placing his folded school clothes on top of his bag.

“So, are you hungry?” Shinra questioned and Izaya tried to think of the last time he had eaten, he couldn't remember.

“No, that’s okay.” He still felt sick. He didn't know if he would ever feel not-sick again. “I’m just really tired. Haven't been sleeping much.” He explained.

Shinra hummed suspiciously but didn't question it.

“Well, I was just about to go to sleep myself.” He stood up and pointed into his room. “You can have the bed since you’re the guest and all. I’ll go grab the extra futon.” Shinra turned to leave the room, but Izaya spoke up before he could.

“That’s okay, I don’t mind sharing. If you don’t, that is.” Izaya quickly added already getting under the blankets. He was very much aware that he was acting strange and clingy but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was so sick and tired and sad. It felt as though the last three months of sleepless nights and stress-filled days were only now catching up with him once it was over. He needed this. He needed to feel something other than lonely.

“I don’t mind.” Shinra grinned a toothy smile. “I’ll just pretend you’re Celty.” Izaya laughed at that.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to wake up and see you have a boner.”

Shinra didn't seem perturbed in the least. He just laughed and turned the light off before jumping onto the bed, his knees barely missing Izaya’s head.

“Jeez, are you always this hyper before you go to sleep?” Izaya complained with a smile that went unseen in the dark. Shinra just kept giggling like a crazy person and burrowed under the covers.

“Nope, only when you’re here.” Shinra said breathlessly.

“Lucky me.” Izaya spoke sarcastically but without any bite. It didn't take Shinra long to quiet down after and Izaya felt himself losing his grip on consciousness. He was almost asleep when Shinra suddenly broke the silence.

“Izaya? Are you awake?”

“No.” Izaya mumbled sleepily.

“Liar.”

He huffed a laugh and turned on his side to face Shinra. Unable to read his features in the dark, Izaya was only able to stare at the indiscernible black lump.

“Do know where you’ll go now? Like, will you have to move away with your aunt?”

Izaya gave a long sigh into the room.

“I don’t know, Shinra.” But before Shinra could say anything, he continued. “Something weird happened today.” He spoke so softly, Shinra almost didn't catch it.

“What was it?”

Izaya hesitated for only a moment before answering.

“My dad came home today.”

Shinra startled, not having expected that in the slightest.

“The one that left when you were like, six?”

“Yeah, one and the same.”

“Hmm, how can you be sure it was him.” Shinra questioned.

“My aunt was there and she recognised him. Started yelling at him too. And-” He felt sick talking about it. “He looked like me. He reminded me so much of myself now that I think about it. It was disgusting.”

“Well, maybe this isn't as bad as you think. Now you might not have to go anywhere.” Shinra explained.

“Seems more likely that I’ll have to leave to get away from him if he claims the house.” Izaya ran a hand through his hair. “I don't know. We could definitely use the money, apparently he’s loaded. Pulled up in a BMW and everything. But-” He hesitated once again. “I don't really know him.”

“This could be a good time to. Everyone deserves a second chance and if you’re so alike maybe you’ll get on great.” Shinra just refused to see the negatives present in the situation. “Whatever happens i’m sure it'll turn out okay.”

Izaya wished he could feel the positive energy Shinra was giving off. He heard what he was saying but to him it only sounded like an opportunity for something worse to happen, for things to become more difficult.

He refused to think let alone voice what was really eating him from the inside. He didn't know why. It was completely irrational but for some reason-

He scares me.

……………

Izaya awoke to the sound of Shinra’s soft snoring and the sunlight coming in through the window hot on his left side. He had no memory of falling asleep and found himself so comfortable he had trouble establishing the will to get up. Though once he did, he quickly found his phone he forgot to charge overnight and checked the time. Once he did he grabbed Shinra’s shoulder and started shaking him awake.

“Shinra, we’re going to be late if you don't get up.”

Shinra groaned and his eyes fluttered open, through that lasted all of probably about ten seconds before he ducked under the blanket and groaned again. Izaya tried to stifle his laughter at the childish display. He picked up the pillow he had been sleeping on and it hovered over Shinra’s sleeping form for no more than a second before it descended upon him in quick hits to the back of his head.

“Ow ow ow, what the hell Izaya-”

As soon as Shinra’s face appeared from out of the covers Izaya had already placed the pillow back under his head and feigned his innocence with a small “What?”

Shinra just narrowed his eyes at the offender and rose from bed with a little more enthusiasm. “Ah, what a beautiful day!” He sighed while stretching.

“Well that was a turnaround.” Izaya chuckled while Shinra skipped out of the room with some apparent newfound energy. He listened to the clang of pans and pots coming from the kitchen while he undressed and then redressed into his school uniform, forgoing a shower because of the lack of time but putting on the deodorant he brought and brushing his teeth with vigour.

He came out into the kitchen just as Shinra sneezed into a cup of flour that dispersed over everything in close contact, including Shinra’s face and clothes. He watched him stand there for a minute in shock before he had taken off his glasses to rub the flour from them. Izaya was bent over from the force of his laughter.

“AH HA HA HA, oh my god that was the best thing that I have ever seen!” His laughter only increased at Shinra’s disbelieving look, like he wasn't yet quite sure what had actually happened but still could not believe Izaya was laughing at him.

“Oh be quiet. This is your fault! I don't know how or why, but it is!”

Izaya tried to quell his amusement and looked at the mess that Shinra had made. Not just the flour, there was spilt milk and an egg that had been dropped on the floor. “What are you even trying to make?”

Shinra just grinned like an idiot. “I was going to surprise you with pancakes!”

Izaya tried to stay composed as he came over to take the cup and flour from Shinra’s hands. “How about you go get changed while I finished making them.”

Shinra looked down at himself and sighed. “Okay…” He mumbled dejectedly and walked back down the hall.

Izaya tried to salvage what he could of the mix by picking out the pieces of eggshell and sifting in the rest of the flour. By the time Shinra was back from changing and washing his face, Izaya already had four pancakes on a plate and finished cooking the rest. Shinra wasted no time in grabbing a few and drowning them in maple syrup. Izaya went for the bottle of lemon juice instead and poured a sparing amount over his pancakes. They ate in relative silence while the morning news played on the TV from the living room.

When Shinra left to go brush his teeth, his phone sat in his place on the counter. Izaya paid no mind to it until it buzzed, garnering his attention. Izaya leant over in his seat to look it the screen of the phone, he was pleasantly surprised to find a that he had message from Shizu-chan. He grabbed the phone and was shocked to find it unlocked with a swipe. What kind of an idiot doesn't have a password on their phone? Only Shinra, he thought, and probably Shizu-chan.

[7:34] Shizuo: Hey Shinra, can you please make sure you bring your history textbook today. I need it for class and I’ve lost mine somewhere. Thanks.

Izaya felt giddy, he could definitely have some fun with this.

[7:35] Shinra: Good morning Shizu-chan, is ‘losing’ your textbook actually code for destroying it beyond recognition? That wouldn't surprise me. I’ll bring mine along but I really wouldn't bother using it, you’re already a lost cause.

[7:35] Shinra: :D

He could feel his mood bettering by the second. It took Shizuo a few minutes to respond, no doubt stewing in his own confusion and hopefully guilt.

[7:38] Shizuo: Okay? Sorry i asked…
[7:38] Shizuo: And Shizu-chan? What are you trying to pull Shinra! Do you want me to beat you to a bloody pulp?!

[7:39] Shizuo: Wait… Izaya?!

[7:39] Shizuo: IS THAT YOU FILTHY FLEABAG?

[7:39] Shinra: I don't what you are taking about Shizu-chan. This is Shinra.

Izaya couldn't hold back his laughter anymore, though it must’ve been too loud because a second later Shinra came back into the room.

“Hey, what’s so fun- HEY! What are doing to my phone!” Shinra ran over and grabbed the phone from Izaya hands. “No no, what have you done? I don't want to be a bloody pulp!” He tried to salvage what he could of the conversation, if only to prevent irreparable damage to his face and his friendship.

[7:41] Shinra: NO SHIZUO, LISTEN TO ME THAT WAS IZAYA! I DONT THINK YOU’RE A LOST CAUSE AND OF COURSE YOU CAN USE MY TEXTBOOK!

Shinra felt his years disappearing with each minute he waited for a response.

[7:43] Shizuo: Tch, that’s what I thought. Why is the flea with you anyway?

[7:43] Shinra: He slept over last night, we’re just having breakfast now so I’ll see you in 15 minutes or so, okay?

[7:44] Shizuo: Yeah, whatever.

Shinra just sighed, “Well, I did what I could?”

Izaya tried to hold back any more laughter while he finished off his pancakes. “Sorry Shinra, sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed” Shinra scoffed.

Once he had finished, Izaya went to get his schoolbag and backpack from Shinra’s room while Shinra put the dishes in the sink. They both left the house with ten minutes to spare, the exact amount of time it would take to walk to the school. Though they must have been walking too slow because by the time they had entered the gates of Raijin Academy, the schoolyard was empty and students were already filing into their seats.

…………….

Shizuo stood next to the school lockers while repeatedly tapping his foot impatiently. Classes were already starting and Shinra was still no where to be seen, along with the textbook he needed before going to class himself. He was about to give up and head off to class, figuring getting in trouble for being so late would be worse than not having his textbook, when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. The closer they got the easier it was to make out the unmistakable sound of Shinra’s prattling, along with another nasally voice that made his muscles tense and his blood heat up on instinct.

“Shinra, you’re too slow. I knew I should have left you halfway, now we’re both going to be late.”

“Aw, you could never do that to me Izaya, you love me too mu-“ Shinra stopped in his tracks abruptly at the sight of an irritated Shizuo, obviously waiting for something… Oh shit.

“Ah, Shizuo! I'm so sorry I completely forgot.” Shinra fumbled with his school bag, shuffling around the books inside until he pulled out the heavy history textbook and handed it to Shizuo. “Sorry we made you wait.”

Shizuo grabbed the book from Shinra’s hands but kept his eyes on the amused looking louse, trying to channel all of his usual rage into a hard glare.

“Don’t worry Shinra, monsters have no need for an education, they’re a lost cause after all.”

Izaya’s condescending tone grated on nerves, like nails down a chalkboard. It was all he could to hold back from throwing the book in his hand at that smug looking face. If only because, from the weight of it, he knew it would do some real damage. He just took a deep breath and closed his eyes, something he found worked quite well in calming his rage; apparently if he couldn't see that self-righteous smirk and those eyes the colour of dried blood, his anger was easier to quell.

Both Shinra and Izaya stared after him in shock as he turned on his heels and stalked off to the class he was already running late for. He was still within earshot as he reached the door of his classroom, he paused just around the corner and heard Izaya sigh and speak with what he recognised as feigned indifference.

“That guy’s no fun anymore”

“He’s definitely getting better at holding back. I can’t believe he’s trying so hard just because I asked him to! Maybe he doesn't hate you as much as we thought…” Shinra chuckled to himself but all Shizuo could think was: Yeah, as if! I’m only trying to be the bigger person, something he is so obviously incapable of.

Shizuo couldn't see but Izaya’s face scrunched up into a look of disgust. “Don’t make me laugh, Shinra. And don't do that ever again. I’m not some delicate flower that you need to stick up for.” Izaya sneered the words. “Besides, to be honest I find this docile beast to be quite boring.”

Shizuo chanced a glance around the corner he was stood by and watched Shinra’s face set with a scowl. “He’s just trying to not make things any worse for you right now, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, there is.” The raven spat back. “Monsters aren’t capable of change or emotion or anything of the sort, especially not for someone they hate.” Izaya stuffed his backpack into his school locker and stalked off to his class before Shinra could get another word in.

Shizuo made his own way into class feeling bitter. Izaya always acted like everything he did was a personal vendetta against him, whether he was trying to kill him or making an effort to do the exact opposite. It was like Shinra had said, he was just trying to do the right thing, trying to prove that he wasn't the monster Izaya always said he was. Why couldn't he see that?

……………

Izaya had just finished putting the books back in his bag after the bell sounded for lunch, when he saw Shinra waiting outside his classroom door. He walked straight past him as he left, pretending he didn't see him at all. Shinra took no notice and simply followed after him, jogging a little to catch up to his friend.

“How was your class Izaya?”

Izaya sighed tiredly, the day was only half way through and he already felt exhausted. “What do you want, Shinra?”

“I want you to have lunch with us.”
Izaya almost stumbled over his own two feet in an effort to stop walking so abruptly. “In all the years we have known each other, you have never once asked me to sit with you for lunch. Why start now?” His voice was flat as an attempt to feign disinterest.

“Well, I always knew you and Shizuo wouldn't be able to sit in the same room as each other without all hell breaking loose. But now that he is making an effort to not kill you every chance he gets, I thought this would be a good opportunity to have the group together for once.”

“I think i’ll pass.”

“Aw, don't be like that, it’ll be fun!” Shinra looked up at him through his lashes, the sunlight glinting off of his glasses. “Please?”

Izaya scoffed. As if puppy dog eyes were going to work on him. He thought about seeing the brute try to contain his anger, all red-faced and flustered, the vein on his forehead throbbing with a life of its own while Izaya threw insults his way. Hmm, maybe I could use this to my advantage.

“Fine.” He sighed, watching Shinra’s eyes light up. He put on his cruelest smirk and smiled down at the brunette. “Whatever makes you happy, Shinra.”

Shinra shuddered at the sinister aura he could see enveloping his friend. He laughed nervously and gestured for Izaya to follow him to the roof, where him and his friends often ate their lunch.

The cold wind whipped through his hair as he stepped out onto the roof, why they bothered to eat up here, Izaya couldn't tell. He’d much rather be holed up in the library with a wide array of human knowledge and experience to keep him company. But he could humour Shinra and the others, just this once.

“Look who's joining us today!” Shinra announced to the pair already sitting on the concrete.

Izaya watched with the utmost amusement as both Shizuo and Kadota’s mouths fell open in shock, the latter looking back and forth between Shizuo and himself as if he could not comprehend their shared presence and was dreading what would come of it. He had to stifle his laughter as he watched the blonde’s chopsticks snap in his grasp and fall to the ground. This was just too funny.

“Now, now, don't be like that Shizuo. Today is a special occasion so i’d be very disappointed if you couldn't keep that temper of yours under control.” To add insult to injury, Shinra spoke while petting the blonde’s hair like a dog. He immediately backed off with a shaky laugh however, after he heard a low growl coming from said blonde. Izaya watched in fascination as Shizuo simply stared into his food and started picking the splintered wood fragments of his broken chopsticks out of the rice.

“Wow Shinra, i’m impressed. You’ve tamed the beast and have him following your commands like a loyal dog.” Izaya thought he heard Shinra whimper at his words before he brushed them off, laughing nervously.

“Oh no, I would never think such a thing! Now let’s all just sit and be nice to each other while we have a lovely meal ahaha…” Shinra trailed off and sat next to Kadota, not wanting to put himself so close to an irritated Shizuo, but realising only after the fact that he had left that spot as the only place for Izaya to sit. Before he could change his mind and quickly slide over to be next to Shizuo, Izaya sat down right in the middle of the two. Izaya held back a grin as he felt his own shoulder brush against Shizuo’s and the obvious tension in the blonde’s own shoulders that came with it.

He observed the faces of everyone in their little circle. Kadota’s flabbergasted one, Shinra’s weary and conflicted one, as though he wanted to squeeze his way between Shizuo and Izaya to break the tension with physical force, and finally Shizuo’s hateful one, glaring into his food with his eyebrows furrowed like it had personally offended him. Izaya had never felt more at ease seeing everyone else so on edge. He’d always made it his priority to bask in other people’s misery, today was no exception.

“Everyone is so quiet! Don't mind me, just pretend i’m not here and talk about whatever you usually do.” Izaya’s tone was condescending and smug but he couldn't help it one bit.

Kadota was the first to make an attempt at breaking the awkward tension. Izaya watched him look around the circle for someone to start a conversation with, skipping over Shizuo — who didn't look to be up for a conversation at the moment — and then himself — which Izaya could appreciate, as he wasn't always the easiest person to converse with. That left Shinra, who Kadota just stared at for a moment, as if he was trying to silently communicate to his friend: Please make this easy for me. Izaya swore that he could read his thoughts, see the cogs turning in his mind. Kadota finally cleared his throat and spoke as casually as he could manage. “So, Shinra, what did you get up to last night.”

“Izaya and I had a sleepover! We watched a movie and made pancakes for breakfast!” Shinra grinned like the idiot he was and Izaya tried not to smile at Kadota’s obvious discomfort in talking about himself while Shizuo was present. But Shizuo made no move to do anything other than frown into his food.

“Well, that sounds like fun… I hope you two didn't get up to any trouble.”

Izaya couldn't help but laugh at how much Kadota sounded like concerned parent reprimanding their child.

“The only trouble I had, was when Shinra started to undress me in his sleep.”

Izaya watched in amusement as Kadota choked on his food and Shizuo just choked on the air in general. Next to him, Shinra made some sort of a squeak of indignation.

“I did no such thing, you liar! I am a man of honour and my heart belongs to Celty!”

“Where was your honour when your hands were down my pants!” Izaya pouted while speaking.

This time Shinra just laughed in genuine amusement and gave him a playful shove. “Stop it, Izaya! That’s not funny.”

Izaya grinned. “I thought it was pretty funny.” He continued to laugh as he fended off Shinra’s jabs to his side, grabbing the brunette’s wrists, he placed them back in his lap. He was aware of both Shizuo and Kadota’s stares directed their way, most likely at the apparent affection they were displaying. Izaya didn't see what the big deal was, he was just being playful and to be honest, he was enjoying this affectionate side of their relationship that he had been exploring recently. It was the first time he’d ever felt like he had a friend that he could be close with, comfortable with. He realised that he was probably stepping on dangerous territory, with the way he was leaving himself open and vulnerable, but he figured at this point, what did it matter? It already felt like his life was turning to shit so who cared if he let his guard down for one more person? The worse that could happen is that he would get left behind, that they would realise he’s more trouble than he’s really worth, and as scary as that used to sound, it was familiar by now.

While Shinra had started to search for his own food, Izaya watched Shizuo from the corner of his eye. He was having trouble picking anything up with the broken chopsticks and Izaya almost felt sorry for him. He thought about offering his own, he knew he had a pair in his bag, but even if he did accept them it was more than likely the brute would just break those too…

A strong gust of wind whipped by and Izaya shivered, he pulled his jacket around himself a little tighter and drew his knees up to his chest. It wouldn't be long before the bell rang once again and he would have to return to his class. The day was passing by too quickly for his comfort, or maybe it was the dread that pooled in his belly at the thought of going home that made everything seem to slip away a little faster, even time.

Chapter Text

Shizuo had never been more glad to return to class after lunch, and that was a terrifying thought. The flea’s mere presence just put him on edge. His muscles felt the constant burn of tension and he felt frustrated beyond belief at how careful he was being. What confused him the most was that he didn't feel an overwhelming urge to fling Izaya off of the roof or beat him bloody. Watching him talk with Shinra and play around as though they had always been the best of friends, made Shizuo feel a pang of guilt. It was his fault that Shinra never smiled and laughed like that, he was the one who couldn't get along with Izaya, who couldn't be around him without turning into a wild animal. Sure, the flea wasn't exactly blameless in that aspect and he still annoyed the hell out of Shizuo but be that as it may, Shizuo was more annoyed at himself.

His headache from the day before had returned at full force and he was up out of his seat before anyone else when class was dismissed. If he could just hurry up and make it home, then he could sleep to his hearts content, the only thing that seemed to help ease his exhaustion and the constant pounding in his temples. But that could only last while his eyes were closed. As soon as he was awake, all he wanted was to be otherwise.

He made it outside and headed straight for the school gate, silently praying that no one would jump him on his way back home. He didn't want to take his irritation out on some unsuspecting gang member, some kid that just wanted to prove himself to his buddies. That would only make him feel worse in the long run. He wasn't fit to carry this inhuman strength. Ironically, he felt too weak. His temper was too short to keep that strength in check and his mind was too sensitive to live with the consequences of his actions.

It was nothing but a burden, feeding his self-hatred in greedy gulps.

He never made it to the gate, his name being called stopped him in his tracks. The only reason he didn't completely ignore it was because he remembered the heavy weight in his bag that was not his to carry. He turned and walked towards the source of the voice, Shinra. Not really surprised to find the bane of his existence attached to the brunette’s hip, just like they had been since Shizuo had first seen them that morning. Weird.

He pulled the textbook out of his bag and dropped it into Shinra’s hands before the brunette could open his mouth again. He was eager to get home and could not be bothered holding up a conversation that consisted of even one word.

But apparently god decided today would be a fitting day for punishment, because before he hadn’t taken even three steps away from the duo — hands shoved deep into his pockets — before that nasally voice called out and an arm was linked through his own.

“Shizu-chan~ You look down today, how about me and Shinra keep you company on your walk home.”

Izaya’s voice was as grating as ever and he immediately stiffened at the contact. He looked down with narrowed eyes to find Izaya clinging to his tense arm standing so close he was practically cuddled into the blonde’s body. He is literally a thorn in my side, were his thoughts.

The urge to grab that body and throw it away from him, to throw something heavy and hard after it, was so tempting that he had to focus all of his energy on just breathing and keeping his clenched fists in those jacket pockets. He stared straight ahead and started walking with long strides. Izaya seemed to be caught off guard by this abrupt change in pace and stumbled a bit, getting dragged along by his insistent grip on the blonde’s arm. Shizuo would have laughed had the raven not regained his balance so quickly and, instead of letting go, matched Shizuo’s pace with equally long strides, his hold just as — if not more — unrelenting.

He could hear Shinra jogging to catch up, his voice stuttering and shaky. “W-wait a minute Izaya! Lets n-not do anything rash ahaha…”

Shizuo completely ignored him. He just kept walking, speeding up in the hope that Izaya would let go and give up this irritating game. Shizuo stopped suddenly, Izaya also jerking to a halt. The close contact and strong flea stench invading his nostrils was too overwhelming for him to handle. He stared down at those dark, red, glaring eyes, always challenging, always scrutinising.

“Let. Go.” Shizuo spoke through gritted teeth.

“Make me.” Izaya practically purred, his grin widening at Shizuo’s face, flustered with frustration no doubt.

Shizuo couldn't deal with this right now. He didn't want to resort to violence, especially not with his latest promise to go easy on Izaya in his ‘fragile’ state. Looking down at him now, he looked anything but fragile, he looked daring and mischievous, with just a hint of pure evil. But he didn't look fragile. Then again, what did the blonde really know about him, other than the fact that he was trouble and always brought the worst out of Shizuo. Not today, he thought. I can play your games just as well as you can.

He put on the most genuine smile he could find, he forced his brows to smooth out and match the soft gaze he directed at the raven. He filled it with so much affection and love, Shizuo had never been more shocked at his nonexistent acting skills. My brother would be so proud.

At the startled look on Izaya’s face, his grin stretched without any conscious effort. He could hear both Izaya and Shinra’s sharp intakes of breath when he lifted his hand to brush away a strand of raven hair from Izaya’s face. Just when he thought that those eyes could not get any wider, he pulled hard on his own arm and yanked it out of Izaya’s grip. Before Izaya could even comprehend what had happened, Shizuo had already turned tail and started to run from the two as fast as he could.

……………….

He… he ran away from me!

Izaya could only stare in gaping shock at the blonde’s retreating back. What the fuck!? He looked back at Shinra and confirmed that, by the equally baffled — if not a little amused — expression on the others face, that had actually happened. The confusion and bewilderment evaporated as soon as he took off after the brute, and he could blame the red dusting his cheeks on the adrenaline instead.

Shizuo had a head start but Izaya was confident that he could catch up in no time. He was faster after all, in every chase they’d execute Izaya would always outrun the idiot. Shizuo was fast no doubt, but his speed was no match for Izaya. His agility also played a part in that, while Izaya was able to leap over fences and free-run on rooftops, Shizuo had all the grace of a hippo. He trampled everything in his path — including people occasionally — and payed no attention to the destruction he brought. Although, Izaya was very aware that what Shizuo lacked in agility and grace, he made up for in raw, unadulterated strength and predator-like reflexes.

He felt like laughing at the absurdity of the situation, the rabbit was chasing after the dog. This had never happened before. Izaya couldn't help but think that Shizuo didn't seem so monstrous and threatening when he was sprinting away from him like his life depended on it. It was different, the feeling of chasing rather than being chased. He wasn't running to get away or string along, he was running to chase, to capture. It felt like something primal and instinctual had been unlocked from inside himself. He knew he much preferred that raging beast at his own heels, the adrenaline rush was unrivalled, but this wasn't so bad either, zoning in on those broad shoulders and blonde head of hair like he was a predator. So this is how Shizuo must feel.

Shinra was a distant thought by now, though they had only been running for a few minutes, he knew the school was far from view and he only felt a slight pang of guilt at ditching his friend so abruptly. Shizuo must have felt Izaya closing in because he was doing his best to throw him off, suddenly turning down side streets and dodging stray objects at the last minute. Izaya was almost impressed, he liked to think that Shizuo had only learned such tactics from watching Izaya himself. He was close now though, barely a breath away. He could probably jump forward and latch onto that strong back from here, just like the parasite Shizuo had always accused him of being. He had planned to do just that before Shizuo made a sudden right turn into an alley.

Unbeknownst to Izaya, Shizuo had immediately skidded to a stop just inside the alley, realising it was a dead end. “Fuck!” He cursed to himself and spun on his heels, ready to take of again in the opposite direction, but distantly knowing that it was too late. Izaya had been practically breathing down his neck, he was sure to be there when he left the alleyway.

And he was. A soon as Shizuo had turned around, Izaya was already sprinting around the corner, oblivious to the unmoving body standing in front of him. Shizuo could see it coming the second before it did, so he braced for impact. Though in hindsight, that may have only made it worse for the smaller, unsuspecting body in front of him.

Izaya couldn't have stopped himself in time even if he had seen it coming. He slammed face-first into Shizuo’s toned chest, and the blonde’s arms — risen to grab Izaya’s shoulders and soften the blow — had only resulted in an elbow to Izaya’s nose and a hard shoulder to his forehead. The impact was so intense that Izaya practically bounced off of Shizuo’s body and into the adjacent alley wall. He slid to the ground, his back dragging down the bricks and immediately covered his face with a groan.

“Ughh, what are you made of, rocks?”

Izaya could already feel the slippery wet of blood dripping from his nose, and a dark bruise blooming on his forehead. His eyes watered from such a hard hit to a sensitive part of his face, but he blinked the tears back where they belong before Shizuo could notice. He kept the back of one hand to his nose and looked up at the completely unscathed beast. Of course.

After a sympathetic wince, Shizuo just shuffled awkwardly on his feet and looked away, muttering a short “Sorry.”

Izaya glared at Shizuo’s turned face and then again at the hand he extended in front of the raven. He used his other hand and pushed himself up from the ground, completely ignoring the unnecessary offer. Shizuo just retracted the hand with a roll of his eyes.

Izaya felt unsteady on his feet. He stumbled a little, catching a hand against the wall for support and just stood there with his eyes closed for a moment, willing the dizziness away. He really hoped he didn't have a concussion. He was tempted to make his way back to wherever Shinra was and get the young doctor-in-training’s opinion. Only, he knew with the distance they’d already covered, that his house would be closer and therefore the more desirable destination.

“Are you… okay?”
Shizuo’s voice startled his eyes open, he’d almost forgotten the blonde was there at all.

“Mhmm, I’m just fine Shizu-chan.” Izaya spoke sarcastically and started walking out of the alley. Shizuo watched him try to wipe the blood from under his nose but only succeeded in smudging it further across his face. He would have laughed had it not been a bit of a disturbing sight and pretty much his fault. Izaya just threw a glare in the blonde’s direction, muttering idiot under his breath. He walked out of the alley and in what he thought was most likely to be the direction of his house. To his great irritation, Shizuo followed him out and kept trailing after him like a stray dog.

“I really wasn't trying to break your face, you know. It was an accident.”

“My face is not broken.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “And stop following me, you’re annoying.”

Shizuo scoffed in disbelief. “You’re joking right? I’m annoying? This is exactly what you were doing to me!” He growled. “It’s your own fault anyway, you shouldn't have chased me when I was just trying to get away from you and your ugly mug.”

It was Izaya’s turn to scoff now. “Excuse me? Now who’s being a hypocrite? You always chase me when I’m just trying to rid myself of your monstrous presence! Now, go away.”

“No way. You want me to chase you. You rile me up and scurry off like the insect you are!” Shizuo yelled and Izaya couldn't help but flinch as it just intensified the throbbing of his skull. Shizuo seemed to quiet down after that. He reigned in his bubbling anger and sealed it for now in a vacuum packed bag. When he spoke again, it was with a resigned sigh. “I’m walking you home now anyway. If you pass out on the road from a concussion, I don't want to be the one to blame.”

Izaya wanted to refute that but speaking was proving to be more effort than he was willing to expend. Besides, he knew Shizuo didn't feel guilty, he was just trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. He couldn't say he didn't deserve it, but that made it no less annoying.

………………..

Shizuo kept walking a few metres behind Izaya, as far away as he could get from the other whilst still being able to see the lithe body, should it stumble and fall into a gutter. The phone in his pocket buzzed with an incoming message and he knew who it was without having to check it.

[3:40] Shinra: Are you okay? You didn’t kill him did you?

[3:41] Shizuo: Yes, i’m fine. No, I didn’t. Although he did have a little accident, fucked up his face. And now i’m stuck walking him home cause he looks like he’s bout to drop any minute.

Shizuo chanced a glance ahead to make sure the raven was still upright. As much as he’d love to find that annoying-ass face pressed into the concrete, the thought of having to carry that skinny body back to his house which was god knows where, was not something he desired in the least. As it was, he’d already have a fairly long trek back to his own home.

[3:43] Shinra: An accident? What do you mean? Is he okay?

[3:43] Shizuo: He’s fine. We just ran into each other and he hit his head and busted his nose, that’s all. Why don't you ask him yourself?

[3:44] Shinra: He’s not answering his phone. He really shouldn't be home alone if there’s a chance he has a concussion, you need to make sure he doesn't fall asleep for a while.

[3:44] Shizuo: How the hell am I supposed to do that? I’m not his babysitter!

“Oi, flea!” Izaya glanced back at the sound of Shizuo’s voice. “Shinra’s trying to message you.”

Izaya pulled out his own phone, he indeed had several messages from Shinra that he had been oblivious to.

“He said don't go to sleep when you get home, in case you have a concussion.” Shizuo yelled out again.

“Wow, thanks for the tip protozoan!” Izaya replied sarcastically. “And here I thought you’d love the idea of me going into a coma.” He mumbled, turning away from Shizuo so the blonde could only just catch the words. He wanted to shove them right back into that filthy mouth.

Instead he just frowned at the back of Izaya’s head, “Don’t say shit like that.”

Shizuo took a moment to observe his surroundings, he had been listlessly following Izaya for the last ten minutes or so and now found himself on a street almost identical to every other they had passed. Izaya came to a sudden stop. At first shizuo had thought that they’d arrived at their destination, but Izaya was placed in front of no house in particular. He just stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the concrete like it held all the greatest answers to life.

Shizuo walked up to the raven and peered over his shoulder. “Um, what are you looking at?”

Izaya startled, at his voice or his close proximity, Shizuo couldn't tell.

“Nothing, I just forgot… something.”

“Like where you live?” Shizuo questioned incredulously.

That snapped Izaya out of whatever thoughts were currently plaguing his mind. He directed a vicious smirk towards the blonde. “No, not at all. I just realised that I don't think I want a rabid monster aware of where I sleep.”

Shizuo matched that smirk with a ferocious glare. “Believe me, if I wanted you dead, you already would be.”

“Is that so?” Izaya took a step closer, his chest almost touching the blonde’s, but Shizuo wasn't intimidated in the least, if only just a little disturbed at the image of Izaya’s manic grin coupled with the dried blood still smeared across that porcelain skin. “What, with all the heavy things you throw at me and the promises of death you holler, I thought that was exactly what you wanted.”

Shizuo stepped back and averted his gaze, he let out a long sigh and with it his depleting anger. “Things are different now.”

Izaya narrowed his gaze at that. He stepped forward again, closing the space between them once more. “Really now? Just because my life has turned to shit, you think things between us are any different? I don’t want your pity!” Izaya yelled, punctuating his words with a hard shove against Shizuo’s chest.

Shizuo stumbled back, just as shocked at the sudden hostility, as he was, the startling honesty in the others voice. “Jesus, what the fuck? As if I could pity someone like you! But I guess that’s what I get for trying to be nice to you for once.”

Izaya seemed to deflate a bit at that. He looked away from the blonde and tried to calm his erratic breathing. Shizuo was starting to feel very exhausted. He wondered if Izaya’s violent outbursts and unstable mood swings were as tiresome for him as they were for the people around him.

He watched Izaya take a few steps backward and stop in front of an ordinary looking family home, complete with a white mailbox in a flower filled front-yard and an expensive looking car in the driveway.

“Well, this is my stop anyway.” Izaya jabbed a thumb in the vague direction of said house.

“Are you home alone?” Shizuo inquired, curious as to who’s car that could possibly be.

Izaya sighed, like the question itself depleted every last ounce of energy from his body. “No. If you must know, my father is home.”

Shizuo was confused. Didn't Shinra say something about Izaya not having a dad? That he left before he really knew him?

His confusion must have shown on his face because Izaya’s eyes widened for a moment, before muttering a goddammit Shinra under his breath. Shizuo tried to elaborate.

“I thought that-”

“He came back yesterday, for the first time since ten years ago or whatever.” Izaya clarified “Not that it’s really any of your business, and I don't know why Shinra would talk to you about such a thing in the first place.”

Shizuo scoffed. “Because he’s your friend and he was worried about you, believe it or not.” Shizuo thought he might have heard a yeah, whatever grumbled under the raven’s breath, but the new mask was up before he could tell. Izaya gave him the brightest grin he’d ever seen — fake no doubt — but for the right person, believable all the same.

“Thanks for walking me home Shizu-chan~” Izaya walked up the driveway without looking back at Shizuo. He reached the front door, already unlocked and threw one last glance over his shoulder, wearing a look the blonde could not decipher. The door closed behind him and Shizuo could not believe he had just walked his arch nemesis home from school, like they hadn't been at each other's throats for the last year or so. Shizuo had often found change to be exhausting and frustrating, and it scared him how almost effortlessly this change in their relationship had come about.

Ok, so not effortlessly, Shizuo definitely felt more drained of energy than usual. But it wasn't an unwelcome change, and that was somewhat frightening. He had always hated violence and his constant feud with Izaya had only made his temper more volatile and his self-deprecating nature worse. If there was an option to lessen that, or better yet be rid of it, Shizuo thought that would be the wisest path to take. Even if the idea of being anything but enemies with that lying, scheming parasite was almost laughable.

He turned his back to the house and started making the long journey back towards his own home. While he walked, Shizuo pulled the phone from his pocket, with the intention of letting Shinra know that he had done his part of being a decent human being.

[4:01] Shizuo: He’s at home now, his dad is there with him apparently so he can take care of him.

His good deed for the day was completed, he felt like a saint. Granted he was to blame for hurting the flea in the first place, but it still felt good to know he had made an effort to do something right, to be the bigger person. Most people wouldn't need to even think about that, he chastised himself. If you have to make an effort to be good and then pat yourself on the back for it, that probably makes you the opposite.

[4:03] Shinra: Oh… okay. Did you happen to see him there?

[4:03] Shizuo: No? What, did you think he was going to invite me inside for a cup of tea? I just dropped him at the door and left. There was a car in the driveway though.

[4:04] Shinra: Okay, thanks for taking responsibility. He probably doesn't have the best self-preservation skills at the moment.

Responsibility? It’s not like he clocked him in the face on purpose! But he was too tired to argue and he still felt a little guilty for fucking up like that, when he was trying hard to do the opposite. Its like hurting others was all he knew how to do.

No matter how human he claimed to be, his actions always said otherwise. He knew deep down that Izaya was right. Maybe that was why he hated him so much; because the raven seemed to look right through him, past his good intentions and down to the crazed animal inside he couldn't control.

Maybe I really am a monster.

……………….

As soon as Izaya had closed the door behind him, he was relieved to find that his ‘father’ was not in immediate sight. He had almost forgotten he would even be here, that was until he saw the car sitting in the driveway of his house while he was parked in the middle of the sidewalk.

He first made his way into the downstairs bathroom, intending to check the damage done to his face. He blanched once he saw the disturbing state he was in, blood had dried under his nose and then went up to stain the pale of his cheeks and his lips, like some avant-garde makeup. Had he really been walking around like this? Stupid Shizu-chan! He could also see the dark patch of a bruise beginning to bloom on his forehead, along with a sizeable bump.

He quickly turned on the tap and let the cold water run into his cupped hands. He washed his face with the water, scrubbing a bit where the blood had dried crusty. After patting his face dry, he tried to rearrange the fringe of his hair to cover the growing red and purple patch. He walked out of the bathroom just as footsteps started to come down the stairs.

“Izaya?”

He tensed at the sound of his name coming from the man, he didn't like it one bit. He came into view and Izaya adopted the most casual stance he could manage.

“How was school?” He had a what some would call a warm smile on his face, but Izaya could see the frown in his eyes. The man looked at him with contempt and it took Izaya off guard.

“It was… fine. Have you been here all day?”

“Yes, i’ve just been moving my things into your mother’s room and the office.”

Izaya tensed but he tried to speak with nonchalance. “So, you’re staying then?”

“Yes, of course.” Shirou looked confused, as though the idea of anything other than that had never crossed his mind. Izaya tried not to let his utter despair show on his features.

“Okay, well i’m just going to go upstairs and do some homework or something.” He quickly walked around his father and made his way upstairs. He closed the door to his room behind him and locked it for good measure. He knew it wasn't necessary, but it made him feel a little safer, a little more at ease. After dropping his bags onto the ground he flopped back onto his double bed. He wanted more than anything to close his eyes and not open them again for at least another few hours, but he knew that was a bad idea. He’d have to head Shinra’s instructions and stay awake for a while instead.

When he was sure he’d heard the door to the office close, he made his way back out of the room. He headed to the kitchen as quietly and quickly as he could manage and grabbed an icepack from the freezer. He brought it back to his room and placed it on his face, rotating it between the swelling bump on his forehead and his sore nose. He knew it wasn't broken but the pain was just enough to keep him from being able to focus on any homework. Even the couple of painkillers he took only dulled it down to a heavy throb.

To keep himself busy, he instead started on some half-hearted research for the most recent job he had taken. He scoured through the restricted articles he had managed to get his hands on and spoke to strangers in various chat-rooms. A couple of hours had passed before a knock sounded at his bedroom door. Dread pooled low in his stomach and he closed his laptop before making his way to the door. It was only after unlocking it and opening it wide to reveal his father’s startled face that he realised he still held the icepack to his face. He quickly brought it down, not doubt revealing his reddened features.

“What happened to your face?” His father looked more curious than concerned, but Izaya still flinched when the man reached a hand out to push back the others hair, exposing the angry bruise.

“I ran into a telephone pole on my way home from school.” He lied easily. It wasn't to far from the truth anyway, Shizuo certainly had the intelligence of a telephone pole. He didn't know how he felt about the man thinking he had done something as foolish as walking into a pole, but it was as good a lie as any and too late to take it back.

“You should be more careful.” Shirou brought his hand back to his side and Izaya felt some tension leave his aching body. “I was going to ask if you knew when the girls were coming home. And what you wanted for dinner, I was thinking of ordering some takeout.”

Izaya wondered if his father had seen the complete lack of food in the fridge and the pantry. They hadn't had takeout for such a long time, they couldn't afford it. Though despite not eating since that morning, Izaya wasn't very hungry.

“They probably wont be back for a day or so, and i’m not really that hungry. Thanks anyway though.” He forced out politely, if not a bit strained.

The man put on an equally as forced smile. “Okay, let me know if you change your mind.” And with that he walked away, down the stairs to the living room.

Izaya closed the door and locked it once again. He left the now melted ice-pack on his desk and laid down on his bed instead. He was so sick and tired he didn't stop himself from closing his eyes.

Maybe it would be for the best if he didn't wake up anyway.

Chapter Text

Izaya startled awake at the sound of the front door slamming closed. A few moments later he heard the rev of an engine and looked outside his bedroom window to see his father rolling out of the driveway in his black BMW; off to work no doubt, wherever that was. It was still early morning, the sun was mounted only halfway into the sky. He distantly realised that he was lucky to be awake. Falling asleep for more than ten hours in a row with a supposed concussion was not the smartest move he had made. Despite that, he was all too tempted to go back to sleep, maybe even for the rest of the day. He felt feverish. His head was spinning, his vision blurry and he recognised that hot, uncomfortable sensation in his stomach as mild nausea.

The air was crisp and cold, it sent a shiver down Izaya’s spine, still clad in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs. He slid out of bed and walked to the upstairs bathroom on unsteady feet, holding the wall for support. As soon as he was inside — the door closed and locked behind him — Izaya stripped down and stepped under the scalding water; taking a seat on the tiled floor, he hugged his knees to his chest and started rubbing life into his numb limbs.

By the time he had finished drying himself and stood dressed in a fresh uniform, the worst of the nausea had subsided, and after downing a few more painkillers, the dizziness eventually passed and the black spots cleared from his vision. He made it out of the door more or less on time and dragged his feet all the way to school. While he walked, he busied himself with sending a message to his aunt, asking how the girls were doing and if there was a day they had planned on coming back. In Izaya’s opinion, the later the better. The stress of sharing a house with someone he neither knew nor trusted would only intensify if he had to worry about his little sisters in the same space. He received a reply within the minute.

[7:51] Yuriko: Hey Izaya, I got a call from the girl’s school this morning. They are fine to have some time off but I am going to a meeting in Kyoto and staying the night so I will have to bring the them back. I was able to push it back until this afternoon so i’ll drop them home after school so you can be there when they arrive.

[7:51] Yuriko: We’ll talk more when I see you this afternoon, but if it’s at all possible I don't want them to have to be alone with Shirou. He may as well be a stranger to them.

Izaya sighed, it seemed that his luck had truly run out. Whether he had any to begin with was a debate he was not willing to give any thought at the moment.

The bell sounded as soon as he stepped into the building. Izaya knew his first class on a Friday was biology, so he pulled the thick textbook from his schoolbag and slipped into the lab; which was thankfully close by. He must have been later than he had originally thought because when he entered the classroom, the teacher paused mid-lecture and all faces in the room turned to him. Thankfully the teacher didn't call him out on it, Izaya merely ducked his head and made his way over to the closest lab bench and the only one with a free seat. Shinra sat there watching him with a concerned gaze and next to him, Shizuo. He had completely forgotten he shared this class with the brute. He took a seat in the empty stool next to Shinra and placed his textbook on top of the bench in front of him.

“Izaya, you’ve never been late before!” The brunette chirped, raising a hand to Izaya’s face. He frowned in concern and carefully brushed Izaya’s raven bangs aside.

Izaya almost flinched at the touch, so similar to the brush of his father’s hand the night before. But this was different, he realised. Whereas the man’s touch had only made him feel uncomfortable and weary, Shinra’s was genuine, as was his concern for the raven. Izaya closed his eyes and found himself leaning into the tender touch at his forehead. He could see Shizuo staring at them from the corner of his eye, when Izaya turned to meet his gaze, the other turned away and pretended to busy himself with something in his open textbook.

“That’s a nasty contusion.” His attention was brought back to Shinra’s voice. The other stroked his thumb across the angry purple bruise and ran it down the bridge of his nose, which he then booped. At that, Izaya flinched. “Sorry. You really did a number on him Shizuo!” Shinra chuckled.

“It was an accident.” Izaya heard the blonde grumble under his breath.

“Well your nose doesn't look broken, just a little swollen and bruised. But your head looks like it hurts and you probably had a concussion. Do you still feel dizzy or sick? How’s the pain?” Shinra’s incessant questions were making Izaya feel like he was stuck in the doctors office rather than sat in a classroom at school.

He sighed. “I felt really sick and dizzy when I woke up, but it’s mostly gone now. I took a couple of painkillers so it’s just a dull throb.”

Shinra hummed. “Well, let me know if you start to feel unwell again.”

The best Izaya could offer was a nod. He would never admit so, but it felt nice to have someone caring for him, looking out for him like Shinra was doing. It made him upset to think that he had been missing out on this aspect of their relationship for the many years they’d known each other, but he knew that he wouldn't have appreciated as much as he did now.

They listened to the teacher explain their experiment for today, something about identifying organisms from different water sources. Izaya didn't bother listening, he knew it'd be easy enough to follow from the book. When she gave them the go ahead, they started setting things up for the experiment. Shinra pulled out different sized beakers and placed them on the bench, he labelled each with a whiteboard marker and started filling them with the various bottles of water they’d been given, as per Izaya’s instructions. Shizuo just sat with his chin resting in his palm, elbow on the table. Izaya wondered if he had any clue as to what they were doing. Over the years he had made an effort to never be stuck in a group with the blonde. He had a grade to uphold after all, and Shizuo chasing him out of the classroom every time Izaya would open his mouth would not help this cause.

As it was, Izaya found himself intrigued by this new and improved version of Shizuo’s temper. Not only were they being civilised in one another’s presence, but they were in group where they would have to exhibit teamwork and communicate with each other. He could tell there was a delicate structure in place that was currently enabling them to work together. Izaya was curious as to how far he could push these boundaries, how long could Shizuo hold out? And what would it take to finally get him to snap and revert back to that enraged beast he knew so well? Izaya had never been very good at knowing when to hold back.

“Shizu-chan~ Stop being lazy and help us. I won't have you mooching good marks off of us while you sit there like a rock and we work hard!” Izaya drawled and watched in amusement as Shizuo’s brows immediately furrowed at the sound of his voice. Though to his surprise, the blonde obediently stood up from his spot at the bench and made his way next to Shinra instead.

How interesting…

“What am I supposed to be doing?”

“Well, there’s probably not much your simple-minded brain can fathom but how about you start by using the dropper and placing a couple of drops of each type of water onto these slides.” Izaya pointed to the line of plastic slides he had set out, each sitting above a small piece of paper on which he had written the water to be used.

Shizuo set to work and Izaya watched him in intermittent glances while he drew up a results table in his notebook. He heard Shizuo mutter a shit under his breath and Izaya turned to see that he had dropped too much water onto one of the slides, drowning it completely. Izaya sighed and handed him a new one.

“Just use another one, if you wipe it clean it’ll affect what you see under the microscope.”

Shizuo took the slide out of Izaya’s hand and muttered his thanks. It was then that he noticed the stares they were garnering from the other students and teacher alike. Once he had made eye contact with some of them, they quickly turned away, but Izaya could still see them send weary glances in their direction every once in a while. It was as entertaining as it was refreshing, he enjoyed the attention.

Suddenly his thoughts about pushing the monster ran in a different direction. Shizuo was proving his determination in keeping up this false persona of calm — and Izaya knew he would be able to break him sooner or later — but maybe there existed a more entertaining method in make this monster snap. One that would shock their current audience rather than let them feel at ease with the normalcy of their arguing. He could be nice to the idiot, he liked to think himself charming after all, and if it was just acting then he could find it acceptable enough.

After the slides were filled, he placed one under the microscope and adjusted the settings until the lens focused and he could make out the tiny organisms floating around. He waved Shizuo over and motioned for him to look into the microscope.

“Can you see the grey moving shapes?”

Shizuo grunted a yes.

“That’s called a protozoa, a singled celled organism. Sometimes they call it a Shizu-chan too.” Shizuo raised his head to glare at Izaya. The raven just laughed, “Just joking!”

Shizuo swapped over with Shinra and the brunette was able to list off the organisms present, while Izaya recorded them in his results table. They did this for each water sample and finished before any other group. While Shinra busied himself by washing out and putting away the equipment they had used, Izaya passed his notebook across the table and placed it next to Shizuo’s.

“You can copy the results down, if you want.” He put the side of his face in his hand, his elbow resting of the bench, mimicking Shizuo’s earlier position. Shizuo gave him a distrustful look, he probably thought Izaya was giving him the wrong answers on purpose.

“Uh, thanks…”

Izaya just smiled. “You’re welcome.” He was sure people were staring now, he felt giddy with anticipation. He leant over the bench, his knees folded under his bum still resting on the stool. He let his body stretch across the table and planted his forearms in front of the blonde’s open notebook to steady himself. The blonde’s eyes widened ever so slightly and Izaya thought he saw him lean back a little on instinct. The raven pretended to not have noticed.

“Make sure you include this extra space at the end of the table. Because you’ll need to fill it out after we hear everyone else’s results.” He put his finger on the book, circling the blank space he had mentioned. “And you’ll need to write a conclusion too, you can just copy the one out of the textbook and replace the results with ours.” Izaya flipped open Shizuo’s textbook to the right page and then slid back into his own seat. Shizuo kept his head down and started copying from the book, a faint flush on his face.

“You’re being awfully nice today! Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Shinra spoke from behind Izaya, putting a hand to the raven’s forehead and pretending to check for a fever. Izaya winced at the contact and Shinra just laughed a half-hearted apology.

“I’m always nice Shinra! Believe it or not, I can be a very lovely person.”

Shizuo scoffed and then covered it up with a cough. Izaya just smiled.

Once the bell rang for break, Izaya had packed his things and was ready to head to the library, his warm haven of solitude from the outside winter air. He had only made it out the door before another arm was linked around his own and he felt himself being pulled in a different direction.

“Come on, Izaya. Where are you going?” Shinra spoke while dragging the raven along by his arm. Shizuo walked alongside them both and he realised that they were headed for the rooftop once again. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that he might be welcome there a second time, he was sure that by the end of his first stay, they were all eager to be rid of him. You can’t be paranoid if you don’t care, he told himself.

“Shinra, I don't need to sit with you every break.” The brunette adopted a confused expression.

“I know, but I want you to. That’s what best friends do.” Izaya’s eyes widened in disbelief, he turned away from the bespectacled boy and refused to acknowledge the warming of his face. Shinra continued. “If you really don't want to, I wont force you. Except for this one time. I have something I want to talk to everyone about.” Izaya scrutinised the childish grin on Shinra’s face, wondering what he could possibly want to talk about that involved the four of them together.

……………..

Shizuo could feel the sun warming his face, the cold concrete rough under his palms. He sat on the roof, leant back against his supporting hands and sucked every last drop from the juice box hanging by his lips. He rolled his eyes at the glare he received for making such an obnoxious sound. Shizuo ignored the raven’s glower, as far as he was concerned Izaya deserved to know what it was like for Shizuo to have to listen to something equally as obnoxious: Izaya’s voice.

A strong breeze brushed by and Shizuo revelled in it, he let his hair be tousled by it’s waves, feeling refreshed. But as he looked around the circle, everyone else just seemed to curl in on themselves, hiding from the cold.

“Come on, Shinra. What is it you wanted to say? It’s too cold to be up here.” Izaya spoke from blue tinted lips, shivering slightly.

Shinra’s eyes lit up, most likely remembering the supposedly incredible idea he had come up with. “Well…” He started sheepishly. “You know how the school festival is coming up and this morning the teachers told us to organise groups and get started on a project?”

Everyone let out a collective groan. Shizuo did not in fact remember that announcement, he was probably half asleep — or more likely — blocking it out on purpose. He had never looked forward to these sorts of events. They demanded a level of creativity and human interaction that he was just not capable of. He enjoyed visiting the festival every year, seeing everyones hard work and basking in the positive energy, but he had always made an effort to get out of participating in them. They all had, as far as he knew. And now Shinra wanted to break that perfectly valid tradition and submit them to his own personal hell: spending time with the flea, outside of school as well as inside. That didn't sound like a good idea.

And it seemed that Izaya was having similar thoughts. “That doesn't sound like a good idea, Shinra.” The raven spoke. “I’m sure a disaster will strike if Shizu-chan has to work with his most hated enemy.”

Shinra dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Oh come on, he’s been fine 'till now and it would be a good team building exercise to help you guys become friends.” Shizuo barked a laugh at which Shinra narrowed his eyes. “Don't be like that Shizuo. This is really important to me. It’s our second-last year and I want us to participate in something like this… Please?”

He closed his eyes and let out the what he thought could be rated the longest sigh in existence.

“Be careful, Shizuo. Getting rid of all that air, if your single-celled brain doesn't know how to breathe it back in, you might suffocate!” Izaya’s voice was as grating and condescending as ever.

That doesn't even make any sense! He couldn't be bothered opening his eyes to glare at the other. “Fine.” He grit out. “I’ll do it. But i’ll put in as little effort as possible and only if he can make an effort to not be annoying.” He nodded his head in Izaya’s direction.

“How rude!” Izaya sounded scandalised, but Shizuo knew it was fake. “Besides, we haven't heard Dota-chin’s opinion yet!”

Everyone turned to Kadota, who stiffened under their gaze. “I… Uhh…” He sighed. “I don't care. I’ll do it if you want. Could be fun.”

Shinra clapped his hands. “Yay! That just leaves you Izaya. So, what do you say?”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Sure, sounds like a guaranteed train wreck. I’m in!” Izaya brought a big grin onto his face, the one that Shizuo had always hated, the one that spoke of inevitable trouble.

“Yes! This will be great!” Shinra yelled. “We should all go to my house after school to brainstorm ideas!”

Shizuo could honestly not see how this would all unfold, and that kind of scared him. As long as he kept up this calming resilience to Izaya’s antics, he would be fine. He just hoped that Izaya would make some sort of an effort too. He realised that this morning was all a performance in the flea’s eyes. The friendly gestures and feigned interest in Shizuo’s education was nothing but a ruse, to entertain their onlookers or freak him out, Shizuo wasn't sure. Regardless, if Izaya could be like that from now on — an act or not — Shizuo thought that it would be a lot easier to be around him.

“I can’t” Izaya said. “My sisters are coming back this afternoon and I don't want them to be alone when they get there.”

Shinra hummed, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why don't you get them dropped at my place? Then you can go home together when we finish.”

“I… guess I could do that. They’ll probably be pretty annoying though, I cant guarantee their cooperation in staying away from us.”

Shinra just shrugged. “That’s okay! We can just put them in front of the TV, apparently that’s what my parents did to me when I wouldn't stop pestering them.”

Shizuo refrained from saying something along the lines of look how well that turned out. Shinra wasn't so bad, aside from his questionable morals and strange obsessions, he was a good-hearted person, at least compared to Izaya. He distantly wondered if Izaya’s sisters were anything like the boy himself. He couldn't imagine what trouble two young girl’s could get up to, but if they were anything like their brother, Shizuo was sure they’d find a way.

The rest of the remaining school day passed by uneventfully. Shizuo stood waiting outside of the building, Kadota at his side, until Shinra and Izaya eventually sauntered out. The brunette was looking too excited about the entire ordeal for Shizuo to feel at all at ease.

“Lets go!” Shinra chirped, motioning for the others to follow his lead. They walked the ten or so minute distance to Shinra’s house, travelling in silence. Once Shinra had unlocked the door, everyone toed off their shoes at the entrance. Shizuo followed the others into the living room and sat on the carpet next to Kadota, while Shinra scurried off to collect some ‘things’ they apparently needed.

With wary eyes, he watched Izaya sit down next to him. Shinra came back and dumped a large piece of paper and a pile of markers in the centre of their circle. He sat down in-between Kadota and Izaya, uncapping one of the markers and pulling the sheet of paper closer to himself.

“We need to brainstorm some ideas, so we’ll go around and each name one, then we can decide from those.” Shinra spoke from his spot on the floor.

Shizuo watched Izaya unfold from his spot next to him, he laid down on his stomach and stretched out like a cat. He rested on his elbows, legs swinging in the air — similar to small child, Shizuo noted.

“Okay, me first.” Shinra said. “I’m going to put down… Haunted house! Kadota, you’re next.”

“Arcade games?”

“Oh, that’s a good one!” The brunette scribbled on his sheet of paper. “Shizuo, your turn.”

“Umm… a bake sale?”

Izaya laughed at Shizuo’s suggestion. “That’s lame, Shizu-chan. And I don’t believe that you have the ability to make anything other than instant ramen anyway.”

“Well, what’s your great idea then? Huh?” Shizuo grumbled.

“A maid cafe!” Izaya spoke with a wide grin. “We can dress up in cute maid costumes and serve people stuff.”

Shizuo grimaced. “No way. As if we’re dressing up in maid outfits-“

“Don’t dismiss the good ideas, Shizuo.” Shinra spoke over the blonde. He can’t really be considering this, can he?

Three sharp knocks sounded and everybody’s attention was suddenly brought to the front door.

“Ah, that will probably be your sisters, Izaya.”

Izaya stood from the floor and made his way over to the entrance, Shinra following close behind. The door opened to reveal two small raven haired girls and a middle-aged woman standing behind them. They were close enough that Shizuo could make out most of the conversation.

“Hello, my name is Shinra Kishitani.”

“Nice to meet you, i’m Yuriko. Sorry for the intrusion, and thank you for letting the girl’s stay for the afternoon.”

“No problem!” The brunette chirped. “Follow me, little ones.” Shinra motioned for the girl’s to follow him and they warily took a step inside the house. Only after a nod from their brother did they follow Shinra into the living room. Shizuo kept his attention on the conversation between Izaya and what he thought must have been his aunt or a family friend.

“Izaya, make sure you message me if anything happens. If you or the girl’s feel unsafe, it doesn't matter where I am, I will come right back and get you.”

Izaya nodded. “Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

The woman stepped forward and pulled Izaya into her arms, he returned the embrace and said his goodbyes before closing the door. Shizuo turned to look at the two girls — twins from what he could see, or just eerily similar — and took in their appearance. They had the dark hair and snow white skin of their brother, but their eyes looked to be a dark brown, rather than the burgundy, almost red shade of Izaya’s. He distantly wondered where Izaya got the genes for such an obscure eye colour, he wondered if it was a feature he shared with his mother, or even his father.

The only feature than separated the two girls were the haircuts, the one on the left wore two long braids and the one on the right, hand in hand, had a short choppy haircut, almost as if someone in their family had cut it spontaneously in a fit of frustration of not be able to tell the two apart. They looked suspicious of the new people they were being introduced to. Shizuo worried what their reaction would be to someone who made an effort to more or less beat their brother to a pulp on a daily basis, even if never had caught him. He guessed that depended on how much Izaya had told his sisters about him or if he had been mentioned at all. He honestly wasn't sure what he preferred.

Izaya sat back down next to Shizuo, introducing the girl’s at the same time. “These are my twin sisters. The one on the left is Mairu and the one on the right is Kururi.” Izaya pointed a finger in each direction. “Mairu, Kururi, you’ve already met Shinra, this is Dota-chin and Shizu-chan.”

“It’s Kadota actual-”

“Dota-chin and Shizu-chan” One of the twins spoke over Kadota’s correction, ignoring it completely as recognition glowed in their eyes.

“How about you go watch TV while we do stuff?” Izaya turned to speak to them.

“No! We want to stay with Iza-nii and Shizu-nii.” The braided girl, Mairu, he remembered spoke while they both stared at Shizuo with awe-stricken eyes.

Iza-nii? Wait…

Shizu-nii?!

Izaya looked just as confused as Shizuo felt. “Uh… Okay, I guess. But just sit quietly and don’t annoy anyone.” They both nodded eagerly at their brother’s instructions. They walked over and squeezed into the small space between Shizuo and Izaya. He watched them carefully, he’d never been very good with kids, Shizuo didn't trust his strength around such cute fragile looking creatures.

They continued their brainstorming. Shinra struggled to come up with anything else, but Shizuo felt distracted by the two pairs of eyes on him, smiling sweetly. He was confused. Izaya obviously hadn't told them who he was to the raven or else he didn't think this would be the reaction they’d have demonstrated. At one point, Shizuo looked over to find three pairs of eyes burning holes into his side, he had to suppress a shudder at the almost frightening sight of having three Orihara children staring into what felt like his soul. Though Izaya quickly turned away, the twin’s attention remained fixated on the blonde.

“I honestly think the maid cafe is the best idea we’ve got.” Shinra’s sullen tone brought Shizuo out of his distracted haze. He couldn't have heard that right.

“Um, What? You’re joking right…” Shizuo quickly spoke up, eager to establish that, that had in fact been a joke.

“I wonder if Celty would like me in a maid dress?” The brunette mumbled to himself, oblivious to Shizuo’s current panic.

“What if it was a butler cafe instead?” Kadota added calmly.

“That’s not much better.” He mumbled.

“I KNOW!” Shinra suddenly yelled, a visible lightbulb brightening over his head. “We should play a game and the two that lose wear maid costumes, while the two that win wear butler costumes instead. That way we can do both.”

“I don't think I like those odds.” Kadota mumbled.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t. There is no way i’m wearing a dress in front of the entire school, I doubt we would even be allowed.” Shizuo hastily let out. He wasn't particularly fond of attention, especially when it involved public humiliation. He doubted anyone would be. But of course Izaya had to take this as a fucking challenge. Just like everything he did.

“They would. There was a group of boys that did the same thing a few years ago.” Izaya spoke with feigned disinterest. How did he even know that? “What’s wrong, Shizu-chan? Are you really scared of wearing a dress? You must be very insecure about your masculinity~” He drawled.

Shizuo knew that Izaya wasn't too keen on wearing a dress either, that’s why he had remained quiet about the idea since he had first mentioned it. But Shizuo saw the way his eyes lit up at Shinra’s suggestion of a game, he knew the raven was smart enough to win, or more likely cheat at whatever game they chose, and he probably knew that Shizuo would draw the short straw too. He was sure that was the only reason he seemed to be so enthusiastic about it now. But I won’t take the bait, he told himself. If there was a guarantee that Shizuo had any chance of winning maybe he would, it’d be worth it to see that smug bastard lose at his own game. But there was still a chance he would lose alongside Izaya, and even if he didn’t, Shizuo honestly couldn't bear the thought of seeing Kadota or Shinra in a dress.

“Come on, It’ll be funny! We can do a game that revolves around chance, so no one has any advantages of skill, strength or intellect.” Shinra declared.

“Well, what do you say Shizu-chan? If you win i’ll even give you a thousand yen!” Izaya spoke, waving the paper note he pulled from his pants pocket in Shizuo’s face.

That is so not worth it, he thought. But then two pairs of small hands started tugging on the sleeve of his school jacket.

“Please play, Shizu-nii! We want to see Iza-nii have to wear a dress!” Mairu spoke while the other, Kururi, nodded her head vigorously.

He sighed. “Fine.” He directed a hard stare towards the raven. “But only because I want to see you in a dress too.” As soon as the sentence slid out of Shizuo’s mouth, he realised that those may not have been the best choice of words. Judging by the wide eyes he was receiving, along with slightly agape mouths, they might’ve realised that too. “I- I mean, because I want to see you lose! N- Not in a weird way though!” He stuttered out, in an effort to regain some form of dignity. He really didn't mean it like that.

Shizuo thought that he might’ve seen Izaya’s shocked face heat up for a moment, red dusting the sharp of his cheekbones and nose; and he would’ve laughed at the raven, had it not been at his own expense.

Regardless, it only took a moment for everyone’s flabbergasted features to clear before they had erupted into laughter. Now it was Shizuo’s turn to blush; How embarrassing. Even Kadota couldn't hold back a chuckle and Shizuo felt betrayed. The two girl’s beside him were still giggling as was Shinra and the flea.

“Does Shizu-nii like Iza-nii in a special way?” Mairu giggled, still tugging on the blonde’s arm.

“No, definitely not!” He grit out. He was never going to live this down, it would follow him for the rest of his life. They would never let him forget! He’d have to move to another city and find new friends. Maybe he was overreacting, but he was quickly realising that fuck did he embarrass easily. He would need to work on that.

“Can we move on now please? Before I change my mind.” He spoke in a disinterested tone with eyes narrowed at all of the guilty offenders, eager to change the subject.

“Alright, alright.” Shinra wheezed out, steadying his breathing. “We know what you meant Shizuo, now let’s decide on a game!”

Shizuo had a feeling he was going to be regretting this for years to come.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so someone holds four matches in their hand upside down, so the red part is covered, but two of the matches will be burnt. The two that pick the burnt matches are the losers. Is that right, Izaya?” Shinra spoke with a twinkle in his eyes, obviously not very concerned at the prospect of losing.

“That’s right. Do you have any matches?” Izaya felt jittery with nerves. He was beyond excited to see how this would all unfold. He felt confident enough in his abilities to come out on top in this game, even if there was supposed to be no skill involved.

“I’ll go check.” Shinra disappeared down the hallway and returned only a few seconds later, a box of matches in hand. After he had sat back down on crossed legs, he pulled four matches out of the box, setting two alight and then blowing them out almost immediately. Izaya took the time to study the appearance of each match, searching for any distinguishing features, like a chip in the wood or a slight change in colour. He could feel Shizuo staring at him, the heat of the other’s gaze drawing his attention away from the matches. He knew what Izaya was trying to do, his glare disapproving and threatening all the same. But Izaya just grinned at the blonde, a childish smile full of white teeth and mischief. Shizuo turned away with a huff and the raven smirked victory.

“Who’s going to hold them?” Shinra questioned, to which a small, pale hand flew into the air.

“I will!” Mairu squealed. “So it will be harder for anyone to cheat.” She reasoned, sending a sly looking smirk towards her brother. Izaya’s confidence started to deflate like a popped ballon. This is not ideal, he thought.

Once Shinra had handed over the matches, Mairu turned away from the circle and started to arrange them in her hand. When she turned back, Izaya immediately tried to locate the minuscule, dark speck he had noticed staining the wood of one of the un-burnt matches. He couldn't find it. Mairu had positioned it so that the mark was facing away from Izaya, and judging by the small smile she played at her lips, Izaya knew it had been on purpose. Damn it, she’s too observant for her own good.

“So, who’s going first?” She spoke to the group.

“I’ll go!” Shinra chirped. “And then we can go in a circle to my right.”

Izaya thought about arguing, the chances of winning would be best for the person going first. But then again if Shinra lost, as the next person his chances would increase once again. Besides, he didn't want to seem desperate; it was best to play this cool, act like he had something up his sleeve, even if it was just a blank card.

Mairu Shuffled into the middle of the circle, sitting on her knees. Shinra leant forward and plucked a match from the little girl’s grip, Izaya sucked in a sharp intake of breath just as Shinra released his, holding a match still adorned with a bright red tip.

“Well, that was lucky!” The brunette sighed, leaning back into his spot on the circle.

Mairu turned to her brother next. Izaya’s throat worked on a swallow; this was fine, he still had a chance, not a very good one but a chance nonetheless. He leant forward, his hand hovering over one match, before quickly switching to another. He yanked it out of her grip quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. Now his luck had truly run out. Izaya just sighed, staring at the blackened tip of his match. Well.

Mairu just giggled. “Poor Iza-nii is gonna have to wear a dress~” She laughed while Kururi tugged on his arm, smiling softly up at him. He couldn't find it in him to be angry at them for betraying him like this. As long as they were smiling at him like that, he’d wear whatever they wanted. Probably… He’d just have to take this unfortunate situation in his stride.

“Aw, chin up Izaya. I’m sure you’ll look better than any of us would.” Shinra drawled, not looking sorry in the least.

At least there was still a chance he could drag Shizuo down with him. If he believed in god, he might have spoken a quick prayer regarding the blonde’s demise, but with his luck, he was sure the opposite would happen anyway. So he just watched intently as Shizuo scowled at the remaining matches, his hand hovering in the air. He pinched the end of the one he had chosen and slowly started pulling it out, prolonging his dread. As soon as he started to see the wood darken into a burnt tip, Shizuo felt like crying.

Kadota, on the other hand, sighed in relief. “Man, I really dodged a bullet there.” He spoke, slapping Shizuo on the back. “Unlucky for you though.”

Izaya suddenly burst into laughter, bringing Shizuo out of his internal shock and snapping his head in the raven’s direction.

“Shizu-chan is going to have to wear a sexy maid costume!” He wheezed.

“Why are you laughing!? You’re going to have to too, you know?!” The blonde yelled and Izaya’s laughter stuttered to a stop.

He just shrugged. “Whatever, it’s not that big a deal for me. Unlike Shizu-chan, I don't embarrass easily.” He smirked at the blonde. Shizuo flushed, remembering his most recent fuck-up.

“You know, I just realised that we’re going to have to cook for this too.” Shinra said in pensive thought.

“Great! Let’s do something else instead.” Shizuo quickly tried to reason.

“Now, now, don't be hasty. We can just buy packaged deserts and serve those, and then make milkshakes in a blender.” Shinra refuted with a small smile, no doubt enjoying Shizuo’s distress.

They continued brainstorming ideas for the cafe, Shinra writing a list of the things they would need to buy and make before the festival. He also promised to look into the purchase of all of their ‘outfits’, dismissing Shinzo’s request for something not too revealing. Even if Izaya himself wasn't especially keen on the idea, he was definitely looking forward to witnessing Shizuo’s utter embarrassment. He could picture it now; a too small dress barely covering those long, tan legs, stretching too tight over his broad muscly shoulders and toned stomach, and finishing it off with those buff arms crossed in front of his chest, the most irksome glare on his face to match. The most feared student of the school, a rumoured violent delinquent that caused countless damages to school property, wearing a cute maid costume. It was almost too good to be true and Izaya couldn't wait to see the reactions of their fellow students.

It wasn't long before the sky started to darken and everyone decided they were finished for the day. Izaya couldn't help but wish he had left earlier, when the sun was still acting as a protective barrier to the scum that roamed the streets at night. He wouldn't think twice about going out on his own, but with his little sisters he was wary. It’d be a lot more difficult to protect the three of them at once.

They all stood at the entrance, wiggling back into their shoes, with the exception of Shinra.

“Thank you for coming everyone! We should do this once a week until the festival and take turns at everyone’s houses.” Shinra spoke while holding the door open for everyone. Before Shizuo could step out of the threshold however, Shinra pulled him back in with a soft tug to his shoulder.

“Shizuo, thanks for being cool today and in general around Izaya, it means a lot to me.”

Shizuo sighed. “That’s why i’m doing it.”

Shinra smiled softly. “In that case, do you think you could do one more thing?” His voice started to waver in response to Shizuo’s glare.

“What?” The blonde grit out.

“Can you walk Izaya and his sister’s home?” At Shizuo’s incredulous look, he quickly tried to explain. “B- Because you live in the same direction anyway and Kadota lives pretty close by to me. I wouldn't ask if it was just him, I think he can take care of himself, but it’s not very safe for two young girls to be walking in this area at night. Please?” He asked, utilising his best puppy dog eyes. If that was what swayed the blonde, he couldn't tell. Shizuo’s face remained impassive.

“Fine.” He muttered. He walked away from the house, chasing after Izaya before Shinra could thank him.

“Hey flea!” Shizuo yelled out, taking brisk steps down the sidewalk towards Izaya, who stood hand in hand with his little sisters. “I’m walking you home.” He stated, no room for argument.

Izaya groaned at the approaching blonde. “We’re not dating shizu-chan, so stop trying to walk me home like you’re my doting boyfriend.”

“W- What the hell?!”

Izaya grinned at Shizuo’s indignant spluttering. “I’m joking.” He turned away laughing. “But you should really see your face right now.” The blonde just glared a familiar scowl that put Izaya at ease. For a second he thought that Shizuo might turn back and forget about the ‘nice guy’ act that Izaya was surprised he had been bothered to keep up, but he just sighed and followed after the raven, trailing behind him and his smaller sisters. Izaya wouldn't argue against it, not when he was secretly relieved at feeling at little safer, not that he would ever admit it to the idiot.

“Don’t worry Shizu-nii, Iza-nii would be lucky to have a boyfriend like you!” Mairu tried to consolidate Shizuo, staring back at him with a soft smile.

Izaya scowled down at his little sister. “Stop spouting nonsense, Mairu.” The raven haired girl grinned cheekily up at her brother. He just sighed in exasperation. She was still to young to be developing this scheming mindset so similar to his own, sometimes it seriously worried him.

But Mairu was unconcerned. She smiled back at Shizuo and held her unoccupied left hand out to him. “Come hold my hand and walk with us, Shizu-nii.” Shizuo stared at the outstretched hand, feeling a little unnerved.

“That’s okay… I’m fine back here.” He spoke quietly, but immediately stiffened at the absolute grief stricken expression that crossed the little girl’s face. Shizuo had never made anyone look like that, and he wasn’t about to start now. He quickly jogged up to be in line with the other three and took the little girl’s hand with the most slackened grip he could manage, careful to not put any strength into it whatsoever. The path wasn’t really big enough fro the four of them, Shizuo and Kururi — to Izaya’s right — had to walk half on the grass, half on the concrete pathway.

Izaya peered at Mairu’s now gleeful expression, curious as to what she was up to. They walked like that for a few minutes, a silent, human chain, until Mairu tugged on Izaya’s arm.

“Iza-nii, can you swap with Kururi? Then we can have the two smallest in the middle!” She grinned at the raven and he obliged, feeling no need to deny her something so seemingly innocent, even if their was a strange glint in her eyes. Izaya swapped places with Kururi and stifled a complaint at now being the one to walk on uneven ground. For a moment he thought that was her plan all along, to minorly inconvenience him for her own amusement, but they didn't stay like that for long either.

“You know, this path is not big enough for all of us.” Mairu suddenly announced, voicing the thoughts of everyone in her presence. “Me and Kururi will walk together in front and you two can walk behind us. Mairu casually stepped away with Kururi still in tow.

It took a second or two for Izaya to realise he still felt the weight of another hand in his own, despite both girls walking ahead of him. He paused in his walking and looked down at his hand, connected to Shizuo’s… How the hell did she manage that. Izaya and Shizuo both looked up at each other in the same second as they yanked their grip away from each other, breaking the contact. Both with wide eyes and confused expressions, Izaya’s purposely painted with slight disgust.

“What the shit?” Shizuo growled, facing away from Izaya who just huffed a laugh at the broad grin Mairu directed back at her brother. What a bother, he thought, amused at her antics.

The rest of the walk proved to be relatively uneventful, Shizuo and Izaya walked side by side, as far away as they could get from each other whilst still staying on the small sidewalk, which wasn’t very far. They slowed to a stop outside of the house that remained familiar to Shizuo from the last time he had walked Izaya home. Izaya sucked in a sharp breath at the light still shining bright from the living room window. How could he keep forgetting? They’d lived alone for so long, it’d take some time to get used to the idea of coming home to a stranger living in their house. Izaya hoped the discomfort didn't show on his face because Shizuo was staring at him curiously.

The two girl’s shuffled back to his side once they too realised that something wasn't right. Though he wasn't sure how much their aunt had told them, witnessing her anger directed at their ‘father’ was sure to leave a bad impression in the girl’s minds. Or maybe the man just gave off a naturally menacing vibe, that would explain why Izaya felt the way he did. He made him feel like he wanted to shrink down into nothing under the man’s gaze, which wasn’t an easy task, nor was making him fearful of spending the night in his own home. He could only hope that he was overreacting for some reason, that he had just crumbled under the weight of everything that had happened recently and now his emotions were susceptible to being pulled in all directions, something he hoped would disappear in no time.

But he had a feeling he was so very wrong, and he knew Shizuo could see it written all over his face. The distressing conflict of thoughts filling Izaya’s darkened eyes made the blonde’s brows furrow in concern.

“Are you… Okay?” Shizuo asked when Izaya made no move to go any closer to his house. He felt a sudden onslaught of Deja Vu, the situation all to familiar to the day before when he had asked Izaya the same thing after their collision. How had he shown more concern over the other in these last two days than he had the last one and a half years they had been at school together? Because we hate each other, he reminded himself. This behaviour wasn't natural for them, and he knew it wouldn't last, even if he wanted it to.

The raven flinched at his voice, looking up at the other in slight surprise, as if he had forgotten Shizuo was there at all. “Fine.” Izaya offered a small smile that he knew wouldn’t fool Shizuo at all. “See you tomorrow.” He threw a wave over his shoulder and turned towards the house on stiff legs.

“Izaya!” Shizuo called out before he could walk any further. The raven turned his gaze back to the other. “Tomorrow is Saturday.” He explained and Izaya’s face remained relatively blank.

“Ah, right.” Izaya just gave a slow nod and walked up to the door, his sisters following closely behind. Before he stepped inside the house, he looked back at Shizuo, a smirk on his face. “Thanks for walking me home, Shizu-chan~” He drawled with a smile, repeating the words he had spoken to the blonde the day before. “Try not to get mugged on your way home!” He quickly added before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Shizuo stood still on the path, his face flushing lightly from the cold. He sighed a cloud of frosty breath and started on the walk back to his own home. A ridiculous idea bouncing around in his head with every step he took.

…………………..

When Izaya stepped inside, he was met with a warm house. The heater had been left on so the chill from the outside air was washed away in no time. He slipped off his shoes and warily made his way into the kitchen, where he could hear the clanging of pots and smell the scent of a cooked meal.

Shirou stood over the stove, his shirt sleeves rolled up and tie missing from his neck. He turned around at the soft pad of feet and met Izaya’s protective stance, Mairu and Kururi huddled behind him. Shirou just smiled, so genuinely Izaya could almost believe it.

“I’ve made dinner, I thought we could all eat together and catch up.” His father spoke, still smiling.

Izaya forced a smile back. “Sure.” He took a seat at the already set dining table and motioned for his wary looking sisters to do the same. Shirou placed a large pot of creamy pasta in the centre of the table before taking a seat himself. They each took turns piling the food onto their plate. Izaya had cleared almost half of his plate before the silence was broken.

“So, how was your time with aunt Yuriko, girls?” Shirou questioned in an attempt to instigate small talk as they ate.

“It was good.” Mairu spoke quietly, struggling to successfully wrap the pasta around her fork.

“Good.” Kururi quietly murmured after her sister.

Shirou nodded in approval. “That’s good. Izaya, how was school?”

“It was alright.” Izaya shrugged, chewing on the surprisingly tasty pasta.

His father nodded again. “And why were you home so late? School finished more than three hours ago.”

Izaya stiffened at the accusatory tone, but it wasn't due to fear or paranoia like he had suspected, his muscles were tensed in anger and frustration. This man, this stranger had forced his way into their lives and now he was acting as though he had any sort of a right to anything that concerned Izaya and his sisters. He took a deep breath and held the rage back from his voice, placing it deep in a metaphorical box.

“The school festival is coming up, so I was spending time with my friends, organising what we would be doing to participate.” His hands were still clenched under the table, blunt nails digging into his palms. But he couldn't feel it, he couldn't feel anything for the fury numbing his body, for the blood pounding in his ears. “Not that it is any of your concern.” He mumbled under his breath, he couldn't help himself. But it was the wrong thing to say.

Izaya jumped at the loud bang of his father bringing both of his fists down hard onto the table. The plates rattled and two glasses of water toppled over. Izaya looked over at the frightened faces of his sisters, feeling his heart sink. Shirou looked up from the dark glare he had been casting at the table and smiled at the three of them. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. How about you girls head on up to bed now.”

They looked to their brother, confused at the prospect of being sent to bed when the sky had only just begun to darken. Izaya nodded his head in the direction of the staircase, urging them to take their leave before things escalated. They both got out of their seats and fled hand in hand up the stairs, a troubled expression painting their features. Izaya kept his gaze trained on his half-empty plate, only looking up at the long sigh of his father.

“Don’t talk back to me like that. Your going to have to start telling me about where you’re going and what you’re doing. I can’t have you running off whenever you feel like it. I know you’ve spent a long time alone here, living as man of the house, but things are different now. There will be rules you’ll have to follow.”

Shirou kept talking but Izaya had tuned him out, the blood rushing through his veins had heated to a level that was beyond uncomfortable. The metaphorical box was about to burst with all of the misdirected frustration and bitterness he had kept inside for so long. Maybe even before three months ago, before his mother’s body had started to whither away. This anger felt like it had been brewing deep inside of himself for years, and now it was about to unleash on someone he felt was completely deserving. He knew he was about to do something he would inevitably regret, that he was about to step over the fine line that had been keeping them civil in each other’s presence, but it was pouring out of him before he could do anything to stop it.

Izaya shot up from the table, slamming both of his hands down flat on its surface. “Who the fuck do you think you are? He seethed, livid and shaky. “You have no right to ask anything of me, anything about me! You’re not my father! You have no say in what I do and you never have.” He spoke viciously and relentlessly. Stepping around the table and towards his father who had risen out of his seat — a cold look on his face —, Izaya moved closer to the other, the ferocious look on his face making him look just as intimidating, despite his lack of height and smaller stature. “You stay out of our lives and we’ll stay out of yours, deal?” He finished, a cruel, crazed grin on his face.

As soon as he had finished talking, he registered Shirou’s raised arm in his peripheral vision, although it was too late for him to dodge the powerful impact. The hand was brought down sharp and clean across Izaya’s cheek, the resounding slap forcing his head to the side. He had only a second to blink back the shock before that same hand was fisted in the front of his shirt.

“What did I say about talking back to me, Izaya?” The man growled out, his dark red eyes piercing into Izaya’s own, the raven felt his stomach drop. “I am trying really hard, you know? It’s not easy being around a vindictive little shit like you.” His father continued. “I never could stand the sight of you.” Using the grip on his shirt, Shirou shoved Izaya away, making him fall back to the ground. Izaya sent a malicious glare towards the man now towering over him. “Don’t test my patience.” Shirou grit out, walking away from the boy still sat on the floor.

Only once he had heard the slam of the office door did he stand back up and begin walking up the stairs and to his bedroom on unsteady feet. He locked the door as soon as he had closed it, then slid his back down the surface until he sat on the ground, head in his arms. He stayed like that for a while, steadying his breathing to something resembling normal. He changed into an oversized T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. He forwent brushing his teeth, for a lack of wanting to leave his room and just downed the glass of water by his bedside instead. He studied his reflection in the full body mirror of his closet and frowned at his appearance that seemed to worsen each day. Along with his already bruised face, he now had the addition of a split lip on one side of his mouth and two dark purple lines marring his cheekbone, of which he knew were the product of the thick silver rings his father had been wearing on his hand. At I don't have school tomorrow, he thought. The weekend would give him time to heal before anyone could start asking questions.

He slipped under the warm covers of his bed and rested the uninjured side of his face on the pillow. In the darkness, he was now able to make out the blinking light of a notification on his phone, still plugged into the powerpoint and resting on his bedside table. He thought about ignoring it but even after turning the phone over, the blinking light somehow still disrupted the dark of his room. He gave up with a sigh and unlocked the device, reading the message that had been waiting for him.

[7:01] Shinra: Hey Izaya, do you want to come to the new carnival that has just opened up in Edogawa tomorrow with me, Kadota and Shizuo? It was his idea, he said we should all go together. Could be fun. :)

Izaya frowned. Usually he would avoid these kind of events but it could be a good excuse to get out of the house. He didn't want to be stuck home alone. He could drop the girl’s at a friends place, maybe let them stay the night and then spend the day being distracted from his problems. He could annoy Shizuo and banter with Shinra.

[7:49] Izaya: Okay.

[7:50] Shinra: We’re meeting at the east exit of Ikebukuro station at 8. See you there :)

He placed the phone back on his desk, setting an alarm beforehand for good measure. He was in the process of drifting off to sleep before he heard a soft knock at his door. He stilled in his bed, unsure of who was on the other side of that door and what they wanted with him.

“Iza-nii?”

He relaxed at the quiet call of his name. Walking to the door with arms wrapped around his cold body, he unlocked and opened it to the sight of Mairu and Kururi dressed in their matching pyjamas, each hugging a brightly coloured pillow close to their chest.

“Can we sleep with you?” Mairu whispered over the top of her pillow, eyes sad and pleading. Izaya opened the door a little wider and motioned them inside. They immediately burrowed under the covers on one side of his bed, leaving a space for him on the edge closest to the door. He sighed, making himself comfortable next to the two small bodies, cuddled for warmth.

Even once he had listened to the breathing of his sister’s even out into sleep, Izaya still lay awake, unable to find rest when his swelling lip throbbed with pain and a reminder of what he had done. He blinked his eyes back open at the rustle of someone moving next to him. He looked over to see Kururi, still awake and reaching a hand in his direction. It landed on his face, she ran her small fingers over the dark of his cheekbone and the inflamed cut at his mouth.

“Iza-nii is okay?”

He smiled softly at her, wanting to ease the worry lacing her voice.

“Yeah, i’m okay.” He whispered back.

Kururi smiled sadly, shuffling closer to her brother. He left a hand to rest on her head, stroking through her unruly hair. It wasn't long until she fell back into sleep, her soft snoring matching that of her sister. He eventually drifted off himself, when the exhaustion his body had been harbouring became too much to bare.

He dreamt of rough hands buried in his hair and the tears of a small child, undeserving of the torment their mind had been riddled with.

…………………..

When Shizuo got up on Saturday morning, he was the only one awake in his house. It was a weekend, so unlike himself, Shizuo’s parents and little brother had chosen to sleep though the cold hours of the morning. He would have loved to do the same but he had decided it would be best to make an earlier start on today’s adventure so as to beat the train’s midday rush, filled to the brim with people who had decided to sleep in on their day off.

He had come up with the idea yesterday afternoon, as he was walking home from Izaya’s house. Despite what the raven would have liked to think, Shizuo saw the discomfort in his face when he had realised he wasn't coming back to an empty home. He also saw the disappointment in the other’s expression when he realised tomorrow was a day he would probably have to spend at home. Shizuo didn't know what kind of a relationship Izaya had with his dad but he was sure he’d find it difficult himself to live with someone that had abandoned him at such a young age. It wasn't because he cared about Izaya or his feelings — or so he told himself — but he figured that being a better person meant taking steps like this. That it meant making an effort to reduce someone’s pain even if it didn't really concern him.

So Shizuo got dressed as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave his skin bare to the wintery air for more than a second. He threw on a pair of black jeans and a dark grey T-shirt, coupled with his thick black jacket and a pair of dark boots. He brushed his teeth and downed a glass of milk before leaving the house, his phone, wallet and key all shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

He started on his walk to the station, cursing under his breath at the cold he couldn't keep from seeping into his very bones. He started jogging, if only to defrost his icy blood and clear the sleepy haze still resting over his mind. Though he was lucky he had, because he reached the front of the station with only a minute to spare, red faced and panting for breath. He searched the growing sea of people for a familiar face, sighing in relief once he spotted Kadota’s beanie clad head.

“Hey.” He breathed once he had reached the other’s side.

“Hey.” Kadota spoke back. “Just get here?” He asked to which Shizuo nodded.

“Yeah. Any sign of the other’s?”

Kadota nodded his head in the direction of the pedestrian crossing connected to the station. Shizuo looked over and recognised Shinra’s brunette head of hair bounding their way. Once he had met their gazes, Shinra lifted his hand and waved at the two of them, oblivious to the few pedestrians that had to jump out of his way else they get barrelled over by the four-eyed idiot.

“Hey guys!” The brunette panted, hands on his knees, once he was standing next to Shizuo. “Hm, the train leaves in a few minutes, I wonder where Izaya is.” Shinra mumbled to himself. Shizuo and Kadota took it upon themselves to search the crowd for Izaya’s raven head of hair, not that such a feature was exclusive enough to anyone in Japan for it to be of any use.

He only looked back down at Shinra’s startled shout. He hadn't even noticed Izaya, who had come up behind the brunette and wrapped his arms around Shinra’s stomach, head resting on his shoulder.

“There you are! We were just about to leave without you.” Shinra joked, turning his head back to grin at the other. Izaya was almost unrecognisable in his out-of-school clothes. He donned the same black jeans he usually wore to school but with the addition of a light grey sweatshirt and a black trench coat that reached down to his hips. He also had a dark maroon scarf wrapped around his neck that Shizuo thought brought out the striking colour of his eyes.

It was strange for Shizuo, he had never be one to go out to places with his friends, so this was his first time seeing all of them outside of their uniform. But even so, that wasn't what shocked Shizuo, that wasn’t what left Shinra’s mouth agape once he had turned to fire a grin at Izaya.

Shinra’s smile disappeared and his eyes filled with concern. “Izaya, what happened to your face?”

Izaya’s pale skin still held the marks of his run-in with Shizuo a couple of days before. His forehead and the bridge of his nose were still dark with bruising, but now there was more. His lip had split and slightly swollen on one side of his face, the same side on which his cheek was mottled with purple tinged skin and two black-blue lines, almost like stitches across his cheekbone.

Izaya smiled, stepping away from his grasp around Shinra’s middle. “Oh, I had a stumble down the stairs last night.” He chuckled.

Shizuo frowned. He knew it was a well rehearsed lie. The marks on his cheek were too straight and symmetrical to have been from anything to do with falling down the stairs, not to mention he seriously doubted that Izaya would be clumsy enough to do such a thing. No, it looked more as though he had been struck across the face with a thin whip. But he kept quiet, just like the rest of them did.

“You’re an idiot.” Shinra mumbled, ruffling Izaya’s hair. They moved inside the station, heading for the train line they would soon take. It pulled into the station as soon as they had walked through the gate. They each jumped into the closest carriage and Shizuo was surprised at how packed full it was. So much for beating the rush, he thought. He shuffled inside and grabbed onto the last remaining handle hanging from the roof. Shinra and Kadota stood a few meters away, almost completely concealed by the many businessmen that stood between them and everywhere else.

He caught sight of Izaya standing a few feet away from him, looking around at something to hold onto. As if on instinct, he reached out and grabbed onto Izaya’s upper arm, steadying himself and the raven as the train lurched into motion. Izaya stumbled a bit, falling back into Shizuo’s chest instead of forward and into some stranger’s. Shizuo swallowed his distaste and held Izaya close to himself, his arm across the other’s chest. Izaya held onto Shizuo’s forearm for a moment, regaining his balance. Once he had let go, Shizuo thought that he should too. He could blame the first outreach on instinct, but once he kept Izaya under his strong grasp he figured that fact would become irrelevant. He did so anyway, figuring this was better than Izaya running into a different short-tempered idiot and causing trouble.

After the train hit another bump and Izaya realised this position was here to stay and for the best, he wrapped his hands back around the front of Shizuo’s forearm, resting his chin on his knuckles.
Luckily, they only had to keep it up for ten or so minutes, once the train made a stop at a busy station, a majority of the people got off of the train and Shizuo saw a spare seat open up next to him. He let go of Izaya and pointed in the direction of the vacant chair.

“Over there, quick.” He spoke, ushering the raven forward before anyone else could claim the spot. Izaya slunk through the remaining passengers and quickly planted himself on the seat, leaning back and sighing in relief.

Shizuo chose to turn his gaze out of the train window and follow the scenery slipping by instead. He let the blur of landscape lull him into a comfortable daze, tuning out of his surroundings until they reached their destination.

It didn't take much longer for them to arrive. He would have missed it too, if Kadota hadn't come over and nudged his attention into the present. The four of them left the station and followed Shinra’s lead to the knew Carnival Shizuo had only heard of. He was picturing something small and quaint, maybe along the lines the Santa Monica Pier in America he had seen pictures of. However, he was shocked when they came across what Shizuo pegged as a full fledged amusement park, something more along the lines of Disneyland. He could see high-risen and elaborate roller coasters in the distance and felt his heart start to beat a little faster.

Thankfully the line for tickets was shorter than they had anticipated, the still early hour of the morning probably the cause. Shizuo scanned the area as they walked through the opening, he could see food stalls, carnival games, a ferris wheel, and there was sure to be more. Shinra came back from the information stand he had stopped by and handed each of them a map of the park. Looking at the aerial view of the place, he realised how big it really was. It’d be too easy to get lost here, he thought.

“Let’s explore!” Shinra cried, marching forward in no particular direction. “What should we do first?” He asked the group following closely behind.

“I want to go on that!” Izaya spoke, pointing his finger in the direction of a giant rollercoaster and jumping up and down like a little kid. Shizuo had to agree with him, he had always loved rollercoasters, ever since going to his first theme park as a child.

Shinra winced, slowing to a stop. “I forgot to mention that I can’t do roller coasters.”

Shizuo frowned. “You don't like them?” He asked, a little shocked that anyone could feel that way about something so exhilarating.

“No, i do!” Shinra wailed. “But they make me really sick so I can’t go on them.”

“Oh… What about you Kadota?” Shizuo asked.

“Uh, I just don’t really like scary things like that.” He huffed a laugh at Shizuo’s incredulous stare. “But don't worry, me and Shinra will wonder around while you guys can do all the big rides.”

Shizuo frowned, a little disappointed. He really didn’t like the idea of wondering around just with Izaya, who knew what would go wrong. He looked at the raven who stood studying the park map.

“Alright, lets go.” He sighed, walking past him.

Izaya scowled at him. “What makes you think I want to spend time alone with you.” Izaya drawled, that condescending smirk back on his face. Despite what he was saying, he still followed after Shizuo.

The blonde just rolled his eyes. “I don't care what you do.” He breathed with disinterest, smiling as he heard Izaya huff in annoyance.

The wait for the ride was only a few minutes. Shizuo felt his blood pump harder and his breath come faster with each step they took closer to the front. He kept fidgeting with his hands and tapping his foot impatiently, feeling a little dizzy with adrenaline.

“Jeez, calm dow. You’re practically panting like a dog.” Izaya muttered from his place next to the blonde.

“I can’t help it.” Shizuo grumbled back. “It’s exciting.”

They had finally reached the front of the line and Shizuo watched the cart pull to a stop in front of them. The small barriers opened and they were able to get on the ride. The cart fit probably twelve of so people and Shizuo made a beeline for the front seat, Izaya sliding in beside him. He pulled the bar down over the both of them and it clicked into place. The instructor came to do a safety check on each of the bars and then they were off, moving at a slow and gradual pace up an incline. Shizuo was sure he was grinning like an absolute idiot but he couldn't help himself. This was always his favourite part, the slow lead up, the anticipation of the drop that awaited them in a second or so.

They reached the tip of the ramp and then-

They dropped.

The wind rushed through Shizuo’s hair and he felt his stomach drop in that familiar sensation he often associated with rollercoasters. The ride twisted and turned and made sudden drops that had Shizuo grinning ear to ear the entire time. On the second or third drop, he looked to his left by chance and found something that made his heart flutter faster than any ride had. Izaya was smiling like Shizuo had never seen him before. It was bright and genuine, filled with pearly white teeth and lips stretched taught. His wildly mussed raven hair and face full of purple bruising only made him look that much more breathtaking. It shocked Shizuo that his brain could associate Izaya with anything even remotely close to the word beautiful, but that smile had numbed his brain and left him speechless.

It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, it frightened him how much he wanted to see that smile, all the time, everywhere he went. With the sunlight shining down on him Izaya looked angelic and it fascinated him how easily someone could switch between two so incredibly different faces. He could not imagine ever wanting to hurt this ethereal creature that sat next to him, but he knew that somehow he had, he still did occasionally.

Shizuo had to look away, that smile felt like something that would destroy him if he stared to long, that would leave him changed forever, for better or for worse. He knew that things had already changed for Shizuo, even if it was due to unfortunate circumstances, he felt like he had seen a different side to Izaya, something that proved he was just as human — if not more so than the rest of them.

Hell, he still hated him, probably. He was a flea, a blood sucking parasite. The only difference was that now he knew there was something else there, something that might be worth looking past the bad he had so easily called out on the day they had first met. The day that Shizuo often wondered what would have happened between them had he not acted so immature and completely rejected Izaya before he had the chance to introduce himself. As much as Shizuo regretted it, he thought their butting of heads was inevitable. They were too different, like mismatching pieces from two separate puzzles.

But things were different now. Back then he felt like he had needed that hatred, it fuelled his blind fury and fed off of his own self-loathing.

But I don't need this like I used to.

Even if he couldn't mend things between them, at least he could try. Maybe the real key to his inner-peace resided in ridding himself of the hatred that swam through his veins like a plague. And besides himself, Izaya had always remained at the top of that list.

The ride started to slow as it neared its end, and the cart was pulling to a stop back where they had started before Shizuo had even noticed.

‘Cause I feel blinded, blinded by you.

Chapter Text

Shizuo stumbled out of the carriage, the supervisor of the ride ushering them off to make space for the next group of park attendees.

“That was awesome!” He could hear Izaya chattering by his side, describing the best parts of the ride and saying that they should line up to do it again.

As they walked past it, Shizuo looked at the line for the ride that had only increased in length since they had first joined it. “We should do the others first cause we might have to wait a while for them.” He refuted. “And we should tell Shinra and Kadota first.”

Izaya hummed in acceptance as they walked back to where they had last seen their two friends. When Shizuo had reached the familiar spot, he stopped. “Huh…” He turned in a circle, searching for a familiar face. “What the hell? They left us!” He growled out when he found no sign of Shinra or Kadota.

Izaya just shrugged his shoulders is nonchalance. “They can find us later. Lets go on that one now!” Shizuo turned to see Izaya pointing in the direction of another elaborate roller coaster. Not as scary as the first, but a good contender none the less.

He sighed. “Okay.” They could just message the others when they were finished anyway, there wasn't much point in catching up with them now.

And so they lined up for the next ride, and the next, and the next. By the time Shizuo stumbled off what he thought was the last big roller coaster, his nervous system felt fried and the constant surge of adrenaline had drained all of his energy. He was exhausted. Izaya however, looked like he could keep going for the rest of the day, he still skipped passed the other people while Shizuo struggled to not trip over his own two feet.

“Ooh, let’s play some carnival games, Shizuo!” Izaya suddenly stopped in front of a stall filled to the brim with stuffed animals of all sizes. There seemed to be some kind of set-up in which basketball hoops lined the area in front of them, varying in distance and height. The sign stuck to one of the hoops read that in order to win a prize you had to get the basketball in six baskets, each basket different and in only eight goes or less. The game looked fun but Shizuo honestly did not want to be carrying around a stuffed toy for the rest of the day, nor did he have any idea what he’d do with it in general. I think i’ll sit this one out, he thought.

Shizuo just watched Izaya hand over a couple hundred yen to the person standing behind the stall and be gestured towards the large crate of basketballs. Izaya picked one up, turning in over in his hands, contemplating the weight and size of the object before he threw it. Shizuo knew that unlike himself, Izaya had pretty good aim when it game to throwing things. His knives always struck their moving target — Shizuo, more often that not — and they were so accurate, it almost seemed he was telekinetic.

That meant that Shizuo was more than surprised when Izaya completely missed the first basket. The ball left his hands and dropped to the ground without so much as touching the rim of the hoop.

“Huh…” Izaya squinted confusedly at the hoop and then the ball still rolling across the ground. Shizuo watch him shrug and pick up another ball, lining it up and shooting. Only to miss again. And again. Izaya huffed in annoyance as his last chance rolled across the ground. He’’d missed three out of eight which meant he’d already lost without getting any in. It was kind of sad.

Shizuo chuckled at Izaya’s disgruntled features, obviously not happy that he had been beaten by something as simple as a ball and hoop. Izaya pulled the wallet back out of his pocket and stared into its empty depths. He quickly put it back before he thought Shizuo could see and turned to leave.

“Wait, I wanna have a go.” Shizuo quickly mumbled, pulling some notes from his pocket and handing them to the same guy behind the stall. Izaya sighed and stood watching the blonde. Shizuo was tall enough that the baskets felt almost close enough drop the balls straight in. He’d never played basketball before but he loved watching it on TV and so he’d seen enough to be able to replicate their shooting position. He held the ball high above his head, one hand on the back and one on the front, feet apart and chin raised. It was all for show but he figured that if he acted like he knew what he was doing then it’d all turn out okay.

He released a breath at the same time he released the ball. It curved into a surprisingly clean arch and landed in the basket closest to him without even touching the hoop.

“Huh…” It was Shizuo’s turn to be surprised. He brushed it off as probably a fluke and picked up another ball to go again. This time he raised his arms a little higher and jumped a foot off the ground. The ball once again went straight through the hoop a little further behind the first.

“I didn't know Shizu-chan could play basketball.” Izaya spoke from next to the blonde, leaning against the bench separating the stall from outsiders.

“Neither did I.” Shizuo admitted, throwing another basketball with success. Within the minute a ball had passed through five of the hoops, the last remaining one being at the back of the stall. Shizuo missed that one twice and for a second thought that his efforts were going to be fruitless. But he jumped a little higher with the last ball he threw, it curved and hit the edge of the hoop, rolling around the rim a couple of times before making its decision and dropping into the basket.

“Yes!” Shizuo yelled, his energy brought back by the excitement of being good enough to win something. He immediately looked around afterwards, a little embarrassed by his outburst. The guy in the stall looked a lot less excited, he mumbled disinterestedly asking what prize Shizuo wanted to pick. His eyes raked over the many shelves stuffed with fluffy looking creatures. He looked down at Izaya, staring off into the distance and nudged his side with an elbow.

“What was the one you wanted?” Izaya looked up at the blonde’s words, his face scrunching in confusion.

“What?”

Shizuo rolled his eyes. “You played the game because you obviously wanted something. So? Which one is it?” He mumbled gesturing to the wide array of stuffed toys.
“Oh, that one.” Izaya pointed to a fat purple unicorn sitting on the highest shelf. It wasn't as big as some of the other prizes, the ones that would compete with the height of a small child. But it still looked a little overweight, in Shizuo’s opinion. “I wanted to get it for my sisters if you must know. They’re at that stage where they love all that sparkly unicorn stuff.” Izaya mumbled quietly, facing away from the blonde.

Shizuo regained the still waiting man’s attention and pointed to the fluffy unicorn. “That one, please.” The guy gave him a funny look but pulled the toy down from its spot on the self regardless. Shizuo grabbed it and nudged Izaya’s attention back over to himself. He held it in front of the raven’s face and Izaya stared at it with a look of shock.

“Here, take it.” Shizuo shook the toy and pushed it into Izaya’s chest.

Izaya grasped the unicorn and squeezed it close to himself. “Um, thanks.” He whispered, a little confused.

“Don’t mention it.” Came Shizuo’s gruff reply.

To the blonde’s delight, Izaya was pretty quiet after that. They walked around the park in comfortable silence until Shizuo spotted a takoyaki stand and his stomach growled in anguish.

“Hey, go find a table while I get some food.” Shizuo spoke to the raven after stopping in his tracks. He turned and left for the food stand before Izaya could even respond. Shizuo could hear him huff a little at the abrupt order but when he threw a glance back over his shoulder he spotted him sitting down at an empty park table. The line started to shorten and soon Shizuo found himself stood at the front of the counter. He pulled another couple of notes from his pocket, noting its decreasing weight with distaste and ordered two plates of takoyaki. He was handed the freshly cooked plates almost immediately and made his way back over to the table.

Izaya startled a bit when Shizuo suddenly sat down, placing a plate of the food in front of him. “Shizu-chan is being awfully nice today~” He drawled. “Keep this up and you might start to lose your bad boy reputation.”

“Shut up and eat your food.” Shizuo growled, taking a bite of his first piece of takoyaki. It melted in his mouth and he felt his anger start to dissipate in favour of his eager stomach. He watched Izaya take tentative bites of his food, the purple unicorn still sitting in his lap.

“So, what ride was your favourite, Shizu-chan?” Shizuo looked up at Izaya’s voice, a little startled that he was trying to make conversation.

“Um, the first one.” He admitted, looking back down at his food. The first ride was his favourite but probably not for any reason Izaya would have thought.

“Hm, yeah that was probably mine too.” Izaya spoke, now shovelling food into his mouth a little more eagerly. “We should probably message Shinra and Dota-chin now, they could be looking for us.” The raven pulled out his phone and started typing on it with one hand, sending a quick message of their whereabouts.

If Shizuo was being honest he had completely forgotten about them and only now thought to check his phone. There were no new messages so they couldn't have been that eager to catch back up. Shizuo tried his best to not be bitter about it, seeing as he had forgotten the other’s presence entirely.

He was finishing off the last bite of his food when Kadota and Shinra appeared out of nowhere, standing beside their table.

“Well there you two are!” The brunette chirped, making Shizuo jump in his seat.

“Yeah, here we are. Where the hell were you?” Shizuo grumbled back at Shinra’s happy grin.
“We got hungry waiting for you so we left to go eat! Besides we thought you two could use some special bonding time~” Shizuo glared at Shinra’s bespectacled face to which the brunette pointedly ignored.

“GAH!” Shizuo jumped again at Shinra’s sudden yell. “What the hell is that thing?” He looked at the accusing finger Shinra had pointed in the direction of Izaya’s lap, where the fat purple unicorn sat.

Izaya hugged the stuffed animal protectively. “It’s a unicorn, Shizu-chan won it for me.”

Shinra’s eyes bugged out of his head, along with Kadota’s. “Shizuo did?” The brunette questioned, looking back and forth between the two.

“Shizuo sent a dark glare towards the raven’s smug smirk.” Why would you tell them that?

Lucky for him, the apparently shocking gesture was brushed aside for the moment. “It’s ugly.” Shinra deadpanned, staring distastefully at the purple creature. Izaya’s face morphed into one of shocked offence.

“It is not.” He spouted back, to which Shinra took a couple steps away from the table.

“It’s kind of scary too.” The brunette spoke warily.

Izaya laughed, a cruel smirk on his face. He rose form his seat and took a step in Shinra’s direction, the unicorn outstretched in front of him. Shinra took a couple more steps back, which Izaya again matched with his own.

“Please don’t.” Shinra whispered, before breaking into a run around the table. Izaya chased after him with the toy in front of his face, yelling something about how ‘The unicorn is fat because it eats glasses wearing medical enthusiasts for breakfast.’

Shizuo watched the scene in mild amusement, wondering how Izaya hadn't fallen flat on his face yet. Once they had done a few laps around the table, Shinra decided to take off in a another direction, out towards the food stalls. It was at this moment that Izaya decided his work was done and he took a seat back at the table. It took a few more minutes of waiting before Shinra waddled back over, keeping his distance from Izaya and the purple unicorn even as they walked back to the park’s entrance. Shizuo had to swallow down a laugh every time Shinra would look in their direction, only for Izaya to quickly raise the toy back in front of his face and growl threateningly. Every time, Shinra would quickly avert his gaze with a small squeak.

Before they left the park, Shinra decided that they should all go on at least one ride together. So they lined up for the ferris wheel situated next to the entrance. Shinra had convinced himself that it was a small enough ride that he wouldn't be sick on it, while Kadota had to be forcibly dragged into the seat. It was one of the ferris wheels from which hung small seats with bars over them rather than small rooms that could seat a group. And since Shinra had already deemed Kadota his partner, Shizuo had no choice other than to slide in next to Izaya on the seat. It was barely big enough for two people and the outside of Shizuo’s thigh and upper arm was pressed hard against Izaya’s own. The raven’s smaller frame being the only thing that prevented them from sitting on top of each other. Izaya didn't complain at the close contact so Shizuo chose to ignore it as well.

He pulled the bar down over them so it sat snug against his lap and the purple unicorn’s, still seated in Izaya’s own. The ride jerked into motion and they started to rise high into the air. Shizuo could hear Shinra trying to placate Kadota from the cart in front of him.

They soon reached the top of the ride and Shizuo’s breath caught in his throat. The view was incredible, it felt like he could see the entire city stretch on forever. The afternoon sun had started to set in the distance and Shizuo could see the high-rise buildings of the city bathed in an orange glow, the distant bodies of water shimmering with the reflection of the lowering ball of orange heat.

Shizuo was knocked out of his peaceful thoughts by a kick to his ankle. Izaya was swinging his legs like a child, the stuffed toy still sat in his lap, along with his soft smile only making him look even more so. The sunset seemed to soak into his porcelain skin and left him with his own orange glow. For the second time that day, Shizuo was caught once again thinking how beautiful Izaya had the ability to be. The soft, admiring gaze he had on the raven turned into a glare as his ankle was kicked once again. He quickly trapped both of Izaya’s dangling legs between his own. Izaya looked at him with a startled expression at first, but it soon turned into a childish grin that made Shizuo’s heart flutter for some stupid, ridiculous, unknown reason. He released the raven’s legs almost immediately, satisfied with how they stayed relatively still.

“Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo’s attention was brought back to Izaya’s blank gaze directed over the city as it passed by. “Yeah?”

“Do you believe in the afterlife?”

Shizuo’s face scrunched in confusion. “What?”

Izaya just rolled his eyes. “The afterlife.” He said simply. “You know, life after death. Heaven. Nirvana. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Never mind. Forget it.” Izaya quickly amended when Shizuo’s only response was a confused and frustrated expression that asked ‘Why?’.

“I don't know.” Izaya looked back up at the blonde’s reply and Shizuo sighed at the surprisingly deep topic of conversation. “No one can really know. There’s nothing to prove it so it’s something I like to avoid thinking about. There’s no point in worrying over something that you can’t change anyway.”

Izaya slowly nodded his head, as if he was contemplating the new information. Then he gave a small smile. “That sounds like something you’d say. You can be fairly observant after all.”

Shizuo grunted in response, not sure if he was receiving a compliment or an insult.

“What about you? What do you believe?” He asked back. Izaya closed his eyes for a bit before carefully answering.

“I’ve always believed that there was no such thing, that to have a god in control of every aspect of our being was ridiculous, and not something i’d want to believe in. But I admit that it is a nice thought, a nice notion. I want to believe it because I think that the idea of there being nothing but darkness after death is almost equally as frightening.”

Shizuo was shocked at such an honest response. He felt privileged that Izaya would share something so private with someone he hated. He figured that the topic was something he was bound to contemplate after the death of a loved one, Shizuo just couldn't believe he’d chosen to confide in him. He guessed that they were technically stuck together up here, and maybe the view of the setting sun and the exhaustion of the day had left Izaya’s defences down, or at least a little lower than usual. Shizuo wouldn't complain, though he knew he wasn't the best as far as advice went.

“Yeah. It’s pretty scary.” Was all he could provide, letting the comfortable silence settle over them as they drifted above the city. If Shizuo closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was flying.

Less than a minute passed and he felt a soft weight of his shoulder. He looked down to see Izaya’s raven head of hair resting against his shoulder. His eyes were still open so he ruled out the possibility that he’d fallen asleep on him. His initial instinct was to push him off, to growl out an insult for messing with him like that. But with their recent topic of conversation, he figured that he just wanted some comfort and Shizuo happened to be the only one close by. Shizuo wasn't so heartless as to deny someone something like that. He tried to relax his stiff muscles and squeezed his arm out from where it was squished against Izaya’s side. His hand hovered in the air a bit, unsure of what he was doing and how mortified he would be if Izaya really was just messing with him. He sighed and let his arm wrap around the raven’s shoulders, his hand coming to rest against his upper arm.

Izaya stiffened for a second, probably expecting Shizuo to haul him out of the seat and throw him into the city, but he relaxed after a moment and they continued staring out into the darkening sky, watching the lights of the buildings and streets flicker on one by one.

They didn't even notice that the staff were having trouble stopping the ride and so they sat there for twice as long as they should have.

……………….

They finally left the park as the sun was barely showing over the horizon and the flashing lights of the park led them out onto the road. They walked to the station and the cold wind that had picked up whipped past Izaya’s head. He kept his arms wrapped tight around himself and the purple unicorn still hugged to his chest.

At least the train wasn't as packed as it had been on their way over. All four of them were able to score a seat close to the door, and so Izaya was able to wait comfortably until they reach their hometown. He tried not to doze off but it was proving to be difficult, at one point he’d closed his eyes for too long and his head had started to drift into the shoulder of the stoic business man sat next to him, to which he’d received a small nudge to his arm that sent him wide awake again.

He was glad when the train finally pulled into their station, and he was a little closer to being able to fall into his warm bed. They stood outside of the east exit, as they had that morning and said their goodbyes. Kadota and Shinra both walked off in the direction of their house, leaving Shizuo and Izaya to walk together in the opposite. When they had passed the point at which Shizuo should be turning off to his own house, Izaya stopped and stared back at the blonde.

“Um, aren't you forgetting something?” He asked, an amused look on his face. But Shizuo’s eyes didn't light up in sudden realisation, he just shrugged and kept walking.

“No, I don't think so.”

Izaya followed after him, too tired to argue over something so trivial. If Shizuo wanted to walk him home yet again, who was he to deny such a strange and confusing request. He kept quiet, listening to the sound of their mismatched steps, aligning every so often into perfect harmony and then falling out again.

Though he refused to show it, he felt a little embarrassed at the display of weakness he’d shown when they were on the ferris wheel at the park. He’d been feeling a little emotional and in need of comfort and had suddenly become curious as to what would happen if sought that from his greatest enemy. He’d acted before he could stop himself and he wasn't sure if the results had made him feel better or worse. The fact that Shizuo had offered his support so easily to someone he hated, and that izaya had felt comfortable in the arm of the blonde when he despised contact from almost every other person, made him feel surprisingly… sad.

He didn't feel disgust or discomfort or even anger, he just felt sad.

And he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

Izaya only realised that they’d reached his house once Shizuo’s footsteps had stopped walking alongside his own. He stopped and turned back to see Shizuo standing in front of his house, smiling amusedly at the raven. He lowered his head in embarrassment and walked back over towards the blonde. His cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold and so he flinched at the warm hand that touched his face. Shizuo’s thumb brushed softly over the new bruise on his cheekbone and then ran across the bottom of his still slightly swollen lip. Once he’d met Izaya’s bewildered expression, he quickly retracted his hand.

“You gonna tell me what really happened to your face?”

Izaya frowned at the accusation. “No.” He spoke coldly. To his surprise, Shizuo didn't push it. He just huffed a laugh and looked down at his shoes.

“Okay.” He spoke softly. “Just letting you know that you can tell me one day if you want. Promise I can keep a secret.”

Izaya ducked his head in a nod. “Thanks.” He mumbled to the blonde. “For the unicorn and the food today.”

Shizuo rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward. “No problem.” He said.

Izaya turned and walked up the driveway to his front door. After opening it he looked back over his shoulder. “Thanks for walking me home Shizu-chan~”

Shizuo huffed another laugh at Izaya repeating the same phrase now three days in a row. He waited until the door had closed behind the raven to turn and walk back down the path he came.

“Goodnight Izaya.”

Chapter Text

After he closed the door, Izaya leant his back against it for a moment, keeping his eyes closed and just focusing on his breathing. Jeez, stupid Shizu-chan being all sweet and unpredictable. It was weird and confusing and definitely not welcome. So much had already changed in his life and now the only constant — his and Shizuo’s mutual hatred — seemed to be morphing into something else as well. But what was it? Tolerance? Begrudging acceptance?… Friendship?

Over his dead body!

Ugh, this is so unfair.

The noise of the TV playing in the living room brought his attention back to the present. After what happened yesterday, he was starting to think that spending the night at home alone was not the smartest idea. He shouldn't of let the girls sleep over at their friend’s house, or he should of at least made plans to stay with Shinra instead. But there was nothing he could do about it now, at least his sisters weren't going to be exposed to any more anger should they have a repeat of yesterdays argument.

It was unlikely anything would happen again anyway. They were both angry and fired up and Izaya had been caught off guard. He’d dealt with worse before, it was hardly something to lose sleep over. He could brush it under the carpet this time but he wouldn't let it happen again. He couldn't have his sister’s living in the same house as someone with violent tendencies.

He made his way upstairs, leaving his thick winter coat, scarf and boots in his room. He went next door to the girl’s room, sighing at the mess of clothes strewn over the floor and the unmade beds. He tidied the room up, throwing dirty clothes into the hamper and putting away the clean ones. He made-up the two single beds that had been pushed together the day they had arrived and placed the purple unicorn in the middle once he was done. He couldn't wait to see their reaction tomorrow. He hoped it was something that would keep them happy and distracted from all that was going on.

He warily made his way downstairs after that, walking past the empty living room and into the kitchen. Shirou was sitting at the dining table, the phone to his hear. Izaya immediately stopped in his place and felt an almost overwhelming urge to go back upstairs and forget about dinner entirely. When Shirou didn't even look up from his phone call — just hummed into the receiver, contemplating what information he was being handed over the phone — Izaya figured it was safe to continue his venture. He wanted to be quick so he opened for cup of instant ramen. That way all he had to do was wait for the water to boil and then he could take it to eat in his room. He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove, turning the dial until the flame caught and spread out under the metal.

He stood watching the flame burn, tapping his finger against the kitchen counter in an attempt to make time run faster. It was futile. Izaya felt his breath catch in his throat once he realised that his father’s phone call had ended and the eery silence that blanketed the room only felt heavier. His finger paused on the counter and he listened to his father stand and take even steps towards the raven. Izaya felt every muscle in his body go so taught he thought they might snap. His breathing picked up to match the speed of his racing heart and he felt dizzy with adrenaline. He suddenly realised that having his back turned like it was, wasn't an ideal position. He’d left himself open and vulnerable but he couldn't bring himself to turn around, to even move a muscle for that matter.

“Where did you go today?” His voice was calm and cold, it only made Izaya feel more rigid in his place. Thankfully he didn’t even have the chance to answer.

“I thought we came to an agreement last night.” Shirou spoke to the back of Izaya’s head and if he wasn't so wrapped up in his own anxiety he could have scoffed. You call that an agreement? “You are to tell me where you go and when. I thought I made that perfectly clear. I don't want to get angry with you, Izaya. You just can't seem to follow simple instructions. What will it take to get you to listen—“

Shirou’s voice faded out of Izaya’s conscious. It was too much, what the fuck was wrong with him!? It felt like he was about to have a fucking panic attack for no god damn reason. He couldn't breathe, paranoia had him tight in its grasp. The anxiety was almost overwhelming, he felt it building and building, creeping up on him like a predator stalking its prey in the woods, like the monster in the closet waiting for you as a child, like the undeniable chill of feeling something standing right behind you.

“Izaya.”

The sound of the kettle whistling grew until every other sound was drowned out.

“Izaya.”

Out of the kettle poured hot steam, it clouded his body and made him feel feverish. Izaya closed him eyes and covered his ears with his hands. All he could feel was the blood pounding in his ears and all he could hear was the sound of the kettle screaming. He tried to hold back his own scream.

“Izaya!”

When the high pitched squealing reached his peak — along with his anxiety — he felt something within him break. Something that cracked and crumbled under the pressure.

“IZAYA!”

Izaya’s hearing rushed back in full force and the shock of his name being yelled so loud lined his body and mind with the final cracks. His body moved on its own, pure animal instinct taking over his movement. He distantly wondered if this was how Shizuo felt every time he gave into that terrifying rage. Izaya’s hand shot out in front of him and he grasped the cool handle of the biggest kitchen knife. He pulled it from the wooden block in a sharp swing, turning on his feet to face his father, the knife outstretched in front of himself.

Shirou took a step back, his eyes wide in shock. “What the fuck are you doing?” The shocked expression quickly morphed into one of anger. “Put the knife down, Izaya.” Shirou practically growled the words, repositioning himself into a threatening stance despite the sharp knife pointed in his direction.

Izaya cursed his shaking hand. He was a person of logic. He carefully planned the downfall of dangerous gangs, he could singlehandedly bring down this cities most corrupt individuals, and he had held his own against Shizu-chan on multiple occasions. So why? Why was he acting on such maddeningly human impulses. Why had he made it a habit of letting his emotions determine his actions. It frustrated him to no end and only plunged him further into the depths of this broken insanity.

But the deed was done. It didn't matter that he’d regretted it as soon as the fog over his mind had cleared and he realised what he’d done. The situation had escalated by his own hand and so he couldn’t back down. If he thought his paranoia had been irrational before, it was definitely justified now. His father’s gaze had turned cold and feral and Izaya started to wonder if he really would be able to defend himself against this man that he knew so little about.

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

Izaya stayed silent and held his ground against his father’s icy voice. Knowing that if he showed hesitance now, his father would see it as a sign of weakness and take advantage of any openings in Izaya’s defences. If he wasn't so jittery with nerves and adrenaline, if his senses had been a little more sharpened, he may have noticed the shift in Shirou’s weight and the way his leg muscles bunched up under his expensive suit pants.

His foot came flying towards Izaya’s face at an alarming speed. Pure instinct was all that saved him from the impact as he leant back and ducked his head out of the way in the nick of time. He felt the air rush by his face, the sole of Shirou’s dress shoe barely missing his nose. The absolute power behind the kick making it evident that the man was highly experienced in some sort of martial art or street fighting.

Shirou had to regain his balance after the kick to Izaya’s face proved futile. Izaya took this chance to step forward and bring the knife down in an attempt to swipe a line of crimson across his father’s chest. Just as he had done to Shizuo on the day they had first met. Shirou jumped back and out of the way, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Though the damage was minimal, the knife still caught his shirt and ripped a line from his right pectoral down to his toned abdominals. A thin line of red appeared almost instantly and Izaya readied himself for the man’s defensive attack.

“You fucking psycho!” Shirou growled, his new injury not slowing him down in the slightest. He lunged towards Izaya again, trying to grab his wrist. Izaya saw it coming and dodged the hand with ease. He took a couple of steps back and violently flinched when his back hit the kitchen counter. Taking a quick glance to his left, he realised he’d just unknowingly blocked himself in between the joint of two counters. Like a frightened animal, he’d backed himself into a corner.

Big mistake.

With no room to move, Izaya had no way to evade Shirou’s next attack. The man’s foot barrelled towards him once again, making contact with the middle of his stomach. The breath rushed out of him and he couldn't stop himself from doubling over in pain. He did manage to bring the knife down over Shirou’s thigh as he retracted it from Izaya’s gut. But the thin slice made no difference. His father’s hand shot back out and this time made a successful grasp on the raven’s wrist. The grip was unrelenting, as was the sharp kick he aimed at the side of Izaya’s leg, forcing him to drop to a knee in front of the man.

Izaya grit his teeth as Shirou squeezed his wrist even tighter, bending it back until the knife fell to the kitchen floor with a clatter. As soon as he had relinquished his grip on the weapon, Izaya felt his father’s knee make a powerful impact with his face. His head hit the back of the counter and he crumpled to the floor. He forced the black spots from his vision once he realised that Shirou had released his wrist and bent over to claim the knife from the floor instead.

Izaya’s eyes widened at the crazed, bloodthirsty gaze staring back down at him. He was lucky he still had enough remaining brain cells to make a split-decision and dive through the gap between Shirou’s right leg and the counter. He ducked into a roll and came to stand on unsteady feet a meter or so away from his father. Shirou span on his foot and rushed towards him immediately. He swiped at the raven’s lower stomach and every time Izaya just barely managed to take a small jump back and dodge the knife’s blade.

But his reaction time was getting slower and he was starting to stumble more often. The last couple of lunges towards Izaya’s body had left him with two paper cut thin lines of red on his stomach. For the first time in a long time, he was seriously starting to fear for his safety. The cold realisation that his little sister’s could come home to their big brother gutted like a pig, made him shiver as though someone had poured a bucket of ice cubes down the back of his shirt. He felt sick. He had to end this, he had to get out of this situation before irreversible damage was done to either one of them.

With his father so distracted on trying to carve Izaya up with the knife, he was able to grab a large vase sitting on a small table beside the couch. Izaya gripped it as best he could with one hand and brought it down hard over Shirou’s head. The force didn't knock him out like he had hoped, but his father still stumbled a bit, disorientated at the sudden impact. Izaya took his chance and wasted no time in turning on his heel and sprinting for the front door.

“Wait!”

He ignored the now distant sound of Shirou calling his name. Izaya threw the door open and slammed it closed behind him, stumbling out into the night. The sky had darkened to an inky black and he almost tripped and fell down the driveway. He didn't stop running. He ran and he ran until the cold air burned his nostrils and his lungs. He eventually found himself stopped at a small park. He stood bent over in front of it, hands on his knees and panting for breath.

He could feel the sudden onslaught of nausea bubbling up inside of him, leaving him almost no time before he had to drop to his knees on the grass and start retching onto the ground. He violently coughed, hands clenching in the grass beside him in an effort to find purchase while shivers wracked through his body.

Ah, how pitiful.

It look a while for him to calm down enough to stand back up on wobbly legs. He’d evened out his breathing but the nausea still swelled every so often. He was constantly having to stop and steady himself against some stranger’s mailbox or a garbage bin that had been left out on the road. But he continued on his walk home none the less. Figuring the slower the better, that way he was less likely to run into his father waiting at the foot of their driveway, or something equally as disconcerting.

He forced himself to be a little more stealthy as his house came into view. He climbed over the side fence and made his way around the back, ducking under any windows as he ran across the width of the backyard. He then made his way around the opposite side of the house, where he knew his bedroom window sat. He scaled the wall with less grace than usual, jumping and pulling himself up onto the overhang as silently as was possible. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that his window had been left unlocked. Crawling through the open space, he stumbled onto his bedroom floor.

After closing the window, he tiptoed over to his bedroom door and closed that with a soft click. He locked it too, but it didn't make him feel much safer. He went over to the small bookshelf against his bedroom wall and started dragging it against the door. He winced when the floor boards gave way to a loud creak, pausing in his efforts to wait for the telltale sign of someone bounding up the stairs. When nothing came he continued his dragging until the bookshelf was pressed firmly against the locked door. He did the same with his desk for good measure.

I really hope I wont have to pee tonight, he thought.

He distantly remembered his cup of ramen still waiting for him on the kitchen counter. Too late now. Not that it mattered when his appetite had left him the moment he’d made the mistake of lashing out at the only person who could keep their family from being split up.

He crawled into his bed, exhausted and hurting. His wrist was a dull throb, as was his stomach. After lifting his shirt to peer down at the pale skin, he was relieved to find that it wasn't mottled in purple bruising that told the tale of internal bleeding. Only the two reddened lines remained under his bellybutton, but even they had stopped bleeding. His face was another story. The relentless knee to his nose had reopened the the split in his lip and aggravated his nose still sensitive from the run in with Shizuo. He could feel the blood that had dried and crusted under his nostrils and around his mouth.

It could wait until the morning.

He curled in on himself. Reaching out for one of his little sister’s pillows that still sat on his bed, he hugged it to his body, burying his face in the soft warmth as his chest started to seize and his eyes started to water.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn't fair.

He hadn't done anything wrong. His father hated him so much, he looked at him like Izaya had made it his personal goal to ruin his life and he had no idea why. He was just a kid, he had broken memories of his father’s sneer as soon as he had started to walk and talk. He’d probably decided he hated him from the moment he left his mother’s womb and it only made Izaya want to cry harder.

Sure, plenty of people had reason to hate him now. He was vindictive and self-centred and thoroughly fucked up. He knew that. But his father hadn’t seen him in years, his only memory of the man from after he left being the day he dropped his mother home from spending the evening together six or so years ago, and the day he left Kyouko crying into the phone after realising she was pregnant once again. This time with two beautiful twin girls.

Maybe if he’d been a better son, worked harder in school, done more for their household. Maybe his mother wouldn't have been under so much pressure, raising three children on her own. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten so sick.

Maybe if he’d been a better child, kept his mouth shut and his head down low, his father might have not have been driven to hate him so much. He might not have left them.

Maybe if he’d succeeded in what he tried so many years ago, everyone would be better off.

Maybe it was all his fault.

This is so unfair

Face and heart throbbing with pain, Izaya eventually fell into a feverish, restless sleep, where the tears still soaked into the pillow pressed close to his face.

He dreamt of muffled words being yelled in his face, heart jumping into his throat. Of his mother’s wailing apologies. He dreamt the hard wood of a school desk being pressed against his back, vision fuzzy and limbs weak. Unable to fend off the cold hands roaming across his now tainted skin.

Chapter Text

The sun shone through the bedroom window and onto Izaya’s face. He welcomed it’s warmth after shaking from the cold all night, unable to muster the energy to change into something warmer, only to curl in on himself a little tighter.

His face still throbbed in something close to agony. It had only assisted his insomnia in keeping him awake for most of the night. Even if he knew sleep would not come to him, the temptation to stay holed up under the covers of his bed for the rest of his life the day was still there.

Alas, his bladder had other ideas. Though he had been able to ignore it for most of the night, it was getting to the point where he was worried he’d to irreparable damage to his kidneys if he held on any longer. So he stepped out of bed and started on rearranging the furniture he’d so hastily shoved against his door last night. It was an exhausting task for his still lethargic limbs but he eventually managed, only sparing a quick glance out the door and into the hallway before he tiptoeing to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, Izaya took the chance to study his appearance in the bathroom mirror. It was appalling to say the least. After cleaning it of the dried blood, he found that around his nose was more bruised than it had ever been — he really hoped it wasn't broken — and whatever swelling had gone down on his lip the day before was all in vain, as the skin had immediately swelled again after the wound was reopened. And fuck did it hurt. The dark circles under his eyes certainly didn't help his already mottled visage either.

Izaya knew he couldn't prolong the inevitable any longer, so he ducked into his room to grab an oversized hoodie before making his way downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee immediately invaded his senses, making his mouth water before he’d even stepped foot in the kitchen. Once he had however, the coffee didn't seem nearly as appetising. There his father sat at the dining table, newspaper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Izaya froze as soon as those haematic eyes locked onto his own.

“Morning.”

Izaya’s eyes widened at the nonchalant response, floored at the impeccability of his father’s calm facade.

“M-morning.” He stuttered, too confused and unsettled to focus on anything other than breathing. Shirou just looked back down at the newspaper in his grasp, taking a sip from his mug. When Izaya still stood staring, Shirou lowered the paper and looked at Izaya with a raised eyebrow. Izaya quickly averted his gaze and flinched at his father’s short chuckle.

“Grab a cup of coffee and sit down. We need to have a talk.” The man spoke, expression one of concern? Exasperation? It was hard to tell but Izaya obeyed regardless, taking more time than was necessary pouring his coffee. He brought it over to the table, placing the steaming cup on its surface before taking a seat himself.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Shirou reading the paper whilst Izaya busied himself by taking small sips of the scalding liquid. When he had finally turned the last page, throwing the paper onto the table, Izaya stiffened under his gaze.

Shirou sighed. “Look, i’m sorry if I scared you last night.”

Izaya’s eyes widened once again into his cup of coffee, he’d expected anything but this.

“I’ll admit that a lost a bit of control and overreacted. But that’s what happens when you pull a knife on someone, son. You have to be prepared to defend yourself. Kill or be killed.” His father’s stare was cold as he spoke.

“So let’s agree now, hm? You follow my rules, tell me where your going and when and we won't have any more problems. Sound good?”

Izaya had never been so grateful. It sounded like his father wanted to brush this little incident under the carpet and he was only so glad. Shirou was right, Izaya had been the one to pull the knife for no real reason. He’d put himself and maybe even his sisters in danger and he regretted it immensely.

It didn't matter that he’d had good reason to be afraid of the man, or that he knew it wasn't something that should be brushed under the carpet. There was not much Izaya wouldn't do to keep his sisters safe and together. That included squashing his ego down in the presence of this man and acting the part of an obedient, appreciative child. He could push everything that had happened so far to the back of his mind for now. The past sixteen years of his life could be stuffed back into that box, this time with stronger nails and thicker chains to hold everything in. If it was what he had to do…

But you know what he’s capable of now, his subconscious was whispering in his ear.

Its doesn't matter if you bend to his will, you’ll never really be safe.

It’s okay, he could suppress that too. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Do the right thing for his family, even if it made his stomach clench on discomfort.

I don't wanna think about that…

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He looked back up at his father, a small timid smile on his face. It was what he wanted to see, he wanted to know he had the raven under his spell and Izaya was happy to act the part. I’m not really afraid of him, he thought. I’m not.

Shirou gave his own small smile back, and Izaya was shocked at how genuine it looked. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Izaya. I knew you'd come ‘round.”

Izaya huffed a fake laugh into his mug, bringing the rim to his lips for another sip, he was feeling a little unsettled at the very least.

“So, lets start with today, shall we? Are you heading off anywhere I should know about?”

Izaya put the cup back down, keeping his hands wrapped ‘round it in an effort to keep them warm. “I’m going to pick up the girls from their friend’s house later on and I was thinking of going to see a friend and maybe doing some grocery shopping in the meantime.” He spoke softly, his voice small.

Shirou nodded his head slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. “Okay.” He suddenly spoke. “Just make sure you’re back before dark.” Shirou chuckled at Izaya’s troubled expression. “See that wasn't so hard now, was it?”

Izaya shook his head, no.

They sat drinking the rest of their coffees in silence. Izaya standing from the table once he had finished his. He rinsed out the cup and placed it in the dishwasher. Before he could walk far enough to make it up the stairs and get ready to go out, his father called his name and beckoned him back over to the table.

“Is your stomach okay?”

Izaya’s brows drew together in confusion at the strange question, to which Shirou just rolled his eyes.

“I’m asking if I got your stomach with the knife yesterday.” He spoke, and amused expression on his face.

“Um, yeah i think so. But it’s fine, it’s not very bad.” Izaya spoke warily, disturbed by the man’s sudden act of ‘concern’. Izaya certainly hadn't shown any when he knew he’d probably done more damage with the knife to Shirou’s leg and chest.

“Show me.”

Izaya couldn't escape his father’s stern gaze, daring him to do the opposite. He lifted his shirt and jumper to just above his bellybutton, leaving the thin, vermillion lines to his scrutiny. Shirou brought out his hand to the bare skin of Izaya’s lower stomach, brushing his thumb over the red and irritated skin surrounding the dried cuts. Izaya flinched as though he’d been burnt by the touch, his stomach muscles tensed and he fought the urge to grab that wrist and bend it ‘till it snapped.

“You’re right, it’s not that bad.”

Luckily the soft caress stopped soon after and Izaya could lower his jumper back into place. When Shirou turned his attention back to the paper and coffee on the table, Izaya took that as his chance to leave. He made his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. It didn't matter how much he scrubbed in the shower or how hot the water was, he couldn't get rid of that uncomfortable feeling brought on by someone touching him like that, brought on by just being in that man’s presence.

After changing into some new clothes — a pair of black skinny jeans and a long black shirt, doubled with his thick, navy winter coat — Izaya made his way back downstairs. He was at the door when he heard his name being called. He stiffened on instinct, but his father just came to stand before the raven, holding out a couple of notes in his direction. He stared with wide eyes at the two ten thousand yen notes being offered to him.

“For groceries.” Shirou elaborated. Izaya slowly took the money from his father’s hand.

“This… is more than enough.” There was no way he could spend twenty thousand yen on groceries if he tried. He’d been so used to spending the bare minimum on food that being handed a couple weeks worth of work for him just like that seemed almost ridiculous.

But Shirou just shrugged indifference. “Buy something special for you and the girl’s. I don't know, do whatever you want with it.” He walked away, dismissing Izaya with the wave of a hand.

Well he wouldn't complain, even if he did feel uncomfortable spending the money, like he was somehow leaving himself in debt to the man. He left without another word, closing the door behind himself. As he started down the path and away from his house, he pulled the phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Shinra, hoping he was sat at home doing nothing like most people on a sunday morning.

[10:31] Izaya: Hey, are you at home?

The phone buzzed in response barely a minute after Izaya had placed it back in his pocket.

[10:32] Shinra: Yep! Why? Are you coming over?

[10:32] Izaya: Yeah, just for a bit if that’s okay.

[10:32] Shinra: Sure! See you soon.

He continued on his way towards Shinra’s house, mentally bracing himself for the visit. He would not be so happy once Izaya had asked what he needed from him.

………………..

At hearing the soft knock on his door, Shinra jumped up from his spot on the floor in front of the TV and paused the video game he had been playing. He swung the door open to reveal Izaya’s thin frame hunched in the cold, hands in his pockets.

“Izaya!” Shinra yelled with his hands raised in the air, a testimony to his excitement at having one of his best friends come visit him. Though he quickly dropped them again — along with his smile — at Izaya’s feeble appearance. “You don't look so good, are you okay?”

He huffed a small laugh. “That’s not very nice Shinra, i’m just fine.”

The brunette looked anything but convinced but he motioned the raven inside regardless. “Did you take another trip down the stairs? Your face looks a lot worse.” Izaya just shrugged his jacket and shoes off before flopping down onto the living room couch.

“I ran into a wall.” He sighed. “Made everything worse.”

Shinra winced. “Ouch, does it hurt?”

“It’s excruciating.” Izaya spoke with his eyes closed and his body stretched out along the couch. Shinra sat back down on the ground, his back against the bottom of the couch and resumed playing his video game.

“You’re a lot more clumsy than usual. You need to be more careful, if you hit it again while it’s still healing you could fracture your nose.”

“Mmm.” Izaya just hummed, extending his arms above his head and raising his hips to stretch out his back on the couch. The action caused his shirt to ride up a bit and from the corner of his eye, Shinra caught sight of the crimson lines painted across his lower belly. He reached a hand out to touch while Izaya still had his eyes closed, but as soon as the warm skin came into contact with his own, Izaya violently flinched.

“Hey!” The raven immediately shot up, trying to pull his shirt back down over his stomach. Shinra pushed him back down with a hand to his chest, a hand that kept Izaya’s shirt clenched in its fist so the brunette could further study the two long but shallow cuts.

“What happened, Izaya?” Shinra deadpanned, his frown as cold as his gaze. It made Izaya shift uncomfortably.

“I scraped it against something on accident.” The raven mumbled, his eyes narrowing at Shinra’s disbelieving scoff.

“You used to be good at lying, Izaya.” The brunette sighed in exasperation. “Fine. Don't tell me. But at least let me treat it so it doesn't get infected.” Shinra left the room for a moment, before returning with a small case filled with medical supplies. Izaya stayed lying on the couch dejectedly, there was no use arguing with Shinra when he was in his ‘doctor’ mode. The brunette first started cleaning the wound with a small cotton ball doused in rubbing alcohol. Izaya winced, even though the cuts had started of scab over, the alcohol still stung. Though it was soon soothed with a cool topical cream that he spread over the cuts. Shinra then finished by covering each slice with a thin piece of gauze, tape around the edges.

When he was done, the brunette sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork. “They should be fine now but as your current medical professional-” Shinra ignored the roll of Izaya’s yes at that. “-I must advise against taking any further part in… knife fights. And as your friend… I wish you would take better care of yourself.” Shinra gave a soft smile, pulling Izaya’s shirt back down.

Izaya smiled back, though a little strained. “…I’ll try.”

They spent the next hour or so alternating between different video games. When Izaya proved to be too good a competitor at Mario Kart, they switched over to a zombie survival game. When Izaya got too frustrated at constantly having to revive the brunette, they then moved on to play a ping-pong match on wii sports.

“Man, its no fun playing these games with you, your too good!” Shinra whined from his spot on the ground.

Izaya laughed in amusement from his own spot on the couch. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Shinra.” He set down the controller to check the time on his phone, noting he'd have to do his grocery shopping soon if he wanted to get the girl’s on time.

“I have to go now, but I wanted to ask you for something before I left.” Shinra looked back up at the ravens soft voice. Izaya sat hunched over staring into his lap, Shinra could see him pinching the skin of his hand in what he assumed was a nervous habit.

“Of course, what is it?”

Izaya sighed. “Look, I know you have, well technically your dad has access to a wide array of prescription medications-”

Shinra didn't like where this was going.

“-and I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was necessary and I don't really feel comfortable going to a doctor. I’m not one to ask for something like this anyway, I detest the idea of relying on drugs but i-”

He was rambling now so Shinra decided to cut him off.

“Izaya. What’s wrong?”

The raven sighed. “I haven't been able to sleep well lately. I can barely sleep at all actually, it takes me forever and i keep waking up every hour or so and whatever sleep I do get, it’s always filled with nightmares that make me want be awake.” It all came out of him in a rush. “It’s driving me insane and i was wondering if you could give me something to help.”

Shinra listened carefully, nodded his head with narrowed brows. “How long has this been going on for?”

Izaya looked away from his lap and into a distant part of the room. Shinra was honestly more worried by this shy, nervous, out-of-character behaviour than anything.

“A couple of months but it’s gotten worse this past week or so.”

Shinra hummed, looking extremely dubious. “I don't know, Izaya. I don't like prescribing people drugs when I’m not exactly qualified. Especially to my friends.”

Izaya finally locked eyes with the brunette and Shinra was only now starting to take in his truly exhausted appearance. The deep purple under his eyes, making it hard to discern from the rest of his mottled face, what was bruising and what was a sign of many sleepless nights. The hunch of his shoulders, like he couldn't hold his own feathery wait — that was also on the low side for someone his age — it all made him seem so much smaller than usual. That haughty, eccentric boy Shinra had grown to know was almost nowhere to be found. Though some pieces of his personality still remained, the past month or so had definitely taken its toll on Izaya’s already fragile mind.

“Please.” He asked and Shinra’s eyes widened in shock. “I just need a good night’s sleep, please Shinra.” He’d never heard Izaya beg for anything, he was too proud. If this was what he’d been reduced to, he probably need it more than Shinra could ever know.

“Okay, just… wait here.” Izaya’s whole body seemed to deflate and relax back into the couch at those words. Shinra left the room once again, snatching the hidden key to their extensive medical cabinet and raking his eyes over its shelves. He returned after a minute or so with a small orange bottle in hand. He held it up next to himself, giving it a little shake.

“This is Eszopiclone or ‘Lunesta’.” The brunette spoke, using his fingers to replicate the quotation marks. “It is a sedative-hypnotic commonly used to treat sleep disorders, such as insomnia. It is intended for short-term use only as it has a high potential for abuse and an addiction to it can develop quickly if it is used incorrectly.” He prattled on with the ease of a trained professional, a walking textbook of information regarding the medical field. “You are to take one at night before you go to sleep. ONE only, Izaya. No more. Do you understand?”

Izaya nodded his head quickly, eager to be done with the conversation. Shinra warily handed over the bottle with an expression akin to one of extreme pain or discomfort. “It should help a bit with the pain as well.” He spoke, gesturing to Izaya’s face. “There’s enough there for one week. If you start having any side effects make sure you tell me.” He said

“I will.” Izaya replied. “I promise.”

“Izaya… you can tell me if something is wrong, like at home or something. That’s what friends do.” The brunette spoke softly, a small smile at his lips.

“Thanks, but everything is fine. A little chaotic, but nothing I can’t handle.” The raven tried to reassure him but Shinra could still see the set of strain across his shoulders.

“Okay, just make sure you don't push yourself to hard and don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it.”

Izaya huffed a small laugh, standing up from the couch and getting ready to leave. “I’ll be okay.”

I’ll be okay…

……………….

Sunday night was family movie night in Shizuo’s house. Every week they would unanimously vote on a movie to watch, stock up on a shit load of snacks and spend the evening on the couch together. It was something Shizuo looked forward to every week, especially when his mother would hand him five thousand yen and tell him to go ham with it down at the grocery store. Which was where Shizuo stood now. In-between the chip isle with a basket filled to the brim with lollies, chocolate, Doritos and other various snack related things. He’d always made an effort to spread that five thousand yen over as much stuff as he possibly could.

It was after he had ventured into the cereal isle, grabbing a box of home brand cocoa pops to snack on — why not? — that he felt a familiar presence, along with a it’s familiar smell. It was instinct that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention and a shiver rip down his spine. Although it didn't come with the usual swell of anger he had grown so accustomed to, more like a bout of unease and nervousness, maybe a little paranoia too.

He turned around to find the flea stood next to a trolley, browsing the different types of cereal adorning the shelves. The trolley was pretty much empty, aside from a bunch of vegetables and a packet of ramen. Shizuo probably should have said something to make himself known instead of just standing there staring like some sort of creep, because when he obviously felt someone’s eyes on him, Izaya looked up to see Shizuo staring at him. He must have been the last person the raven was expecting to see because he jumped a little, dropping the box of cornflakes in his hands.

“Shi-Shizu-chan?” He stuttered, bending over to pick up the box.

“Uh, hi.” Shizuo silently berated himself for sounding like an idiot.

“What are you doing here?” Izaya spoke, eyes darting around the shop as though he was paranoid someone would sneak up on them.

Shizuo lifted an eyebrow at the strange behaviour. “I’m… shopping, like you?” He said.

“Oh.” Izaya seemed to calm down after that, deeming he wasn't in danger of anyone else sneaking up on him. Now that he was facing him, Shizuo was able to study the raven’s demeanour that almost screamed exhaustion. His face looked worse too, like someone had clocked him right in the nose between the last time they’d seen each other and now.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

Izaya’s expression was shocked at first but it then quickly twisted into one of complete incredulity. He grabbed his trolley and walked straight past the blonde, all the while fixing him with a firm glare. Shizuo mentally slapped himself for once again speaking like an idiot. He rushed after the raven.

“Wait! I didn't mean it like that. I just meant the bruising looked a little worse than yesterday.” He quickly spoke, matching Izaya’s long strides with his own. The raven slowed to a stop.

“I ran into a wall.”

Shizuo scoffed. “Yeah, as if i’m gonna believe that.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I don't care what you believe.” Izaya’s voice was cold and taut, his glare unfaltering. Shizuo just sighed, looking down into the raven’s trolley. Then—

“You really don't know how to shop, do you?”

“Huh?” Izaya looked confused at the abrupt change in topic. Shizuo gestured to his trolley, only filled with weird looking vegetables.

“All you have is these. Do you not know how to shop for food that tastes good?”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Of course you would say something like that.” He muttered, huffing a laugh after looking at Shizuo’s basket filled with crap. “If you must know, i’ve never had to or been able to shop for anything other than the absolute necessities. And now I have to somehow spend twenty thousand yen in this place.” He sighed like the idea of having that much money to spend on whatever he wanted was nothing but a chore. For him it probably was.

“That’s awesome.” Shizuo turned an accusing frown down at the raven. “Don’t you dare spend all of that on weird vegetables. That’s a crime to shopping.”

Izaya looked amused at the current conversation. “Oh, and I suppose you’re some kind of a professional shopper, are you?”

“No… but I know how to buy what tastes good.”

“Well, I guess that would be helpful in shopping for my little sisters, you do have the taste of a child anyway.” Izaya suddenly looked up at Shizuo, a big grin on his face. “Okay, help me shop then, Shizu-chan. Spend this twenty thousand yen however you would yourself.”

Shizuo’s eyebrow’s drew up on surprise. What a strange request… “Okay, i guess I can do that. For the sake of your sisters at least.” He spoke with feigned disinterest, but it was hard to hold back the smile. It sounded like Izaya was making up an excuse to spend time with Shizuo, and a fairly far fetched one at that. It was strange to say the least but definitely a step forward in their… relationship? Ah, Whatever.

“First things first, you need these.” Shizuo picked up another box of cocoa pops and added them to Izaya’s cart, who wore a distasteful frown.

“Those are just sugar, their teeth will rot.”

Shizuo rolled his eyes. “Not if it’s a special occasion thing.” He insisted, picking up a box of cornflakes and weetbix to add as well. “There, they can have those for a healthier breakfast.” Shizuo took the lead in walking out of their current isle and into the next, Izaya following close behind. In the cart he placed a packet of bacon, a box of eggs, bread, butter, sausages and sauce. “Everything you need for a cooked breakfast.” He insisted. Izaya was astounded at all the food people were ‘supposed’ to have in their kitchen. It really only made him feel more guilty than he already did for withholding so much from his little sisters all this time. For so little they’d had all their life. He could only hope they wouldn't resent him once they were older.

Shizuo left for a moment and came back with a hand full of pancake mixes, explaining that all you had to do for these was add water and shake the bottle so it was quicker and easier than starting from scratch. He spent the next hour dragging Izaya through every corner of the shop, piling different foods into the cart and providing his extensive knowledge on them. He told him what tasted good with what, if you have to keep it in the fridge and how long it lasted. By the time they rocked up to the self-serve checkout and scanned every item, Shizuo was sure they’d be well over his budget. He was wrong, the total came to a close nineteen thousand, eight hundred yen. Izaya quickly grabbed a packet of gum at the checkout for two hundred yen so he could insert both notes into the machine and be done with it.

Shizuo payed for his own purchases in the meantime. It was after Izaya had bagged everything that Shizuo realised their mistake. Izaya had too, if the way he was staring at the bags with a blank expression was anything to go by. Shizuo watched him start to grab multiple bags in each hand, struggling to lift them all at the same time. He watched the raven’s fingers turn red then purple almost immediately under the weight and Shizuo had an overwhelming fear that they would fall off. He rushed over to Izaya’s side and started picking up each bag.

“What are you doing Shizu-chan?” The raven asked in what sounded like exasperation.

“Helping you, what does it look like.” He had already grabbed three bags in each hand — including the two of his own— of which he barely felt the weight.

“You don't need to do that.”

Shizuo wanted to argue with a snide comeback, something to get it into the flea’s thick head that he didn't have to do everything alone.“I know, but I want to.” Was what he settled on instead.

“No, you don't. I have to walk all the way to pick pick up my sisters from their friends house and then walk back home after. So, no. You really don’t.” Izaya argued anyway.

Shizuo frowned. “You have no clue what I want.”

Izaya narrowed his eyes, picking up the last two bags in one hand. “You’re right, i don’t.” He muttered under his breath, so quietly that Shizuo thought it wasn't for him at all. “Fine, lets go then.” He said instead, this time loud enough for the blonde to hear.

They walked out of the store and Izaya lead the way to their next destination. Shizuo followed along quietly, thinking he should probably be at least a little bit concerned that this was now the fourth day in a row that he was walking Izaya home, and of his own will at that. He could very well of left him. If he hadn't offered his help he’d be on his way home right now, where he could be lazing in bed or in front of the TV or even spending time with his family. It didn't even bother him in the slightest that he was in the last place he wanted to be — or so he kept telling himself. The flea’s presence just didn't seem to bother him as much anymore, he’d even found it to be enjoyable at times and that was perhaps the most disturbing thing of all.

Shizuo couldn't say how long they’d been walking because he had been lost in thought for the most of it, staring at the ground as they walked, watching Izaya’s scuffed, black boots move in time with his own. When they finally stopped, it was in front of a quaint little house. Izaya walked up to the front door and knocked a couple of times, stepping back and away from the door almost immediately.

“Beware, they have a dog.” He explained. Shizuo frowned in confusion. He didn't like dogs? Who doesn't like dogs! The flea, apparently. Another thing Shizuo would never understand about Izaya. The door swung open to reveal the two little girls Shizuo had previously met. Mairu and Kururi, if he remembered correctly. Which one was which, he couldn’t tell you.

“Iza-nii!” The one with a long braid — Mairu? — yelled. “And Shizu-nii too!” The little girl’s eyes lit up at the sight of her two ‘big brothers’, as did the girl behind her. Shizuo heard them call back inside, saying goodbye to their friends while Izaya spoke to the woman who had made her way over to the front door.

“Izaya, honey. Thank you for bringing the girls over, we all had a blast.” She spoke with a bright grin stretching her face.

“Thank you for having them. I hope they weren't too much of a bother.” Izaya politely smiled back before the woman caught sight of Shizuo.

“Oh, and who might this be?” She spoke with the same smile directed towards the blonde. He stiffened under her gaze. What the hell was he supposed to say? ‘Oh, i’m Izaya’s mortal enemy. But don't worry, we’re not trying to kill each other for the moment so i’m here to help pick up his little sisters instead!’

“Um, we… go to the same school” was all he could offer.

She seemed to be satisfied, however. “Oh, how sweet-”

She was suddenly cut off by the loud bark of a dog coming from inside the house. Shizuo did not miss the way Izaya stiffened at the sound.

“Quickly girls, come on now, we’re going, let’s go. Izaya blurted out in a rush, ushering the girls out of the doorway and down the driveway of the house. Shizuo quickly followed after him, confused and amused at the raven’s frazzled state. He threw a hand over his shoulder to wave the woman goodbye. She waved back, smiling at them both, before closing the door. Only then did Izaya seem to relax.

“You don't need to be so scared of Nelly, Iza-nii. She’s a good dog and she won’t hurt you.” Mairu spoke to her brother, following him along the sidewalk.

He’s scared of them? That’s kind of funny.

“You’re scared of dogs?” Shizuo spoke once he had caught up to the raven, an amused expression covering his face.

“Shut up, Shizu-chan.” He immediately fired back. “If you breathe a word to anyone, i’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

Shizuo almost tripped over his feet. “Jeez, okay. My lips are sealed.” They walked in silence after that, until Mairu decided to break it.

“Shizu-nii, why did you come with Iza-nii to pick us up?” Mairu questioned, her big brown eyes staring up into Shizuo’s own. Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to respond.

“Shizu-nii is really strong so Iza-nii is using him as his slave to make him carry our stuff around, Mairu.”

Shizuo sent a dark scowl towards the back of Izaya’s head, even if it did go unnoticed.

“Oh wow, Shiuz-nii’s the best!” Shizuo felt his face start to heat up at the little girl’s overt compliment. She skipped over to the blonde and held out her small, pale hand. Not this again. He supposed it would be alright so long as it didn't turn into another hand holding train. He shifted all of the plastic bags he was holding into one hand, leaving his left one open for Mairu to grasp. They kept walking and Shizuo watched the shadows stretch and shift in the afternoon light.

The house, familiar to Shizuo by now, soon came into view. The driveway was empty, and Izaya walked its length to the front door, both hands still full with the heavy bags. He paused in front of it and turned to speak to Kururi who had been walking next to him.

“Kururi, can you please hold the-” As he turned to speak to her, he found she had disappeared into the front garden as soon as they had arrived. She sat in a flowerbed, poking a bug she had found, along with her sister. Izaya sighed in exasperation.

“Shizu-chan, can you please get the key from my back pocket?”

Shizuo startled at the call of his name, bringing his attention away from the two little girls sat in the garden and back to their big brother stood waiting at the front door. Once Izaya’s request had registered in his head, he found his gaze slowly drifting down the flea’s back to land on his round, jean clad bum. Shizuo cheeks started to flush a dark shade of crimson. Is he being serious right now? He could just put the bags down and do it himself! When Shizuo made no move to do as Izaya had asked, only to stare at his lower posterior, the flea threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Shizu-chan what are you-” He cut himself off once he realised what Shizuo had been staring at and felt his own cheeks start to heat up. He hadn't thought that the blonde would see it like that. “Ugh, never mind.” He muttered and started to shift the bags in his hand so as to place a few on the ground. Before he could finish however, Shizuo snapped out of his embarrassed daze and rushed forward to help his arch nemesis. It’s only weird, if you make it weird, he thought to himself, quickly lowering his hand to the back of Izaya’s jeans and slipping it inside the pocket. He cursed the rising temperature of his face as his hand brushed the curve of Izaya’s butt, undeniably soft even through the barrier of his jeans. And now you’ve made it weird…

As soon as his fingers brushed the cool metal of a key, he pulled it out of the pocket and proceed to push the key into the lock on the front door. It was an effort to quell the shaking of his hands, but once the lock gave way, Shizuo was able to push the door open. Izaya mumbled his thanks with his head hung low and shuffled inside. Since he hadn't been specifically told not to, Shizuo deemed it okay to follow him over the threshold.

The house was spacious, immaculate and modern, the inside almost identical to the set up in a furniture magazine. Though it was bigger than Shizuo’s own, that only made it feel more cold and empty, there was nothing homely about it, in Shizuo’s opinion. Or maybe he simply didn't realise how other people lived, only having ever been in his own house or Shinra’s on occasion, and he certainly wasn't your textbook normal person. Though neither was Izaya, really.

He followed Izaya over to the dining table next to the kitchen and set the bags he was holding down onto it’s surface, only keeping his own two still grasped tight in his right hand. He almost dropped them again at the sound of a high-pitched, piercing scream. Both boy’s attention was brought to the upper level of the house, and after locking a distressed gaze with Shizuo for only a moment, Izaya shot of in the direction of the stairs, Shizuo following immediately after.

“Mairu! Kururi!”

Both girls ran out of their room clutching the purple unicorn that Shizuo and Izaya had both forgotten about until now.

“Iza-nii! Look what was on our bed!” Mairu squealed, jumping up and down with her sister, the toy still pressed between them.

At the bottom of the staircase, both boys sighed in relief.

“Girl’s don't don't scare me like that.” Izaya spoke, clutching his heart. Mairu and Kururi were oblivious to his distress.

“Did you get this for us?” Mairu yelled, stumbling down the stairs with her sister in tow.

Izaya sighed. “Technically, it’s from Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo felt the two little girls wrap their arms around his middle, looking up at him with stars in their eyes.

“Thank you, Shizu-nii!” They both spoke, one a yell and another a whisper. Shizuo smiled down at them both, his face a little flustered.

“It’s okay.” He said.

They then let go and moved onto their brother, Mairu wrapping her arms around his stomach, while Kururi latched onto a leg. “Thank you, Iza-nii too.” They each spoke, childish grins adorning their faces.

Izaya smiled softy down at them, his eyes filled with a kind of love Shizuo had never seen on him. “Your welcome.” He breathed, ruffling the hair of each twin. They let go of their brother and raced back up the stairs and into their room, to play with their new toy, he assumed. After they left, Shizuo stood awkwardly by the raven, figuring now was the time to take his leave.

“Um, I should probably get going.” He mumbled. Izaya met his gaze and started to shuffle uncomfortably, looking away soon after.

“Yeah, okay… Thanks.” He whispered. “For helping me out. I know it must have been, like the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” He looked back a the blonde, a small smirk in place.

Shizuo felt a small smile tug at his own lips. “Yeah, well… I’m still alive aren't I? Can’t of been that bad.” He mumbled, walking towards the front door. Izaya opened it for him before he walked out.

“See you tomorrow.” He called, throwing a small wave over his shoulder while ambling down the driveway.

“See you.” Izaya whispered back, barely loud enough for the blonde to hear. Only once Shizuo was on the footpath, walking away from the house, did Izaya close the door behind him.

……………

Once the latch of the closed door clicked into place, Izaya let the back of his head thump against it.

What am I doing…

He was thankful, at the very least that his father hadn't been home, it made letting someone into his house a little easier. For whatever reason he was away, Izaya hoped that against all odds he’d stay there.

He made a start on dinner in the meantime, anyway. He pulled out some of the day’s purchases that he planned to use, placing them on the counter, and put the rest away in cupboards and the fridge. He started by rolling out some packaged pizza dough — that exists? — into something resembling a base and loaded it with tomato paste, the various ‘weird’ vegetables he had bought and a layer of cheese. He then repeated the process to make a simpler one for his sisters, consisting of ham and and what few vegetables he could sneak in and be covered by the cheese. He placed those in the oven to cook, setting a timer on his phone for when they should be ready.

The rest of the night was spent watching family-friendly movies on TV with his sisters, eating pizza for what might have only been the second or third time of his life, maybe a first for the girls. After the last movie, Izaya ushered his sister’s into starting their nighttime routine; brushing their teeth and changing into pyjamas, before snuggling under the covers of their bed, the purple unicorn stuffed between them.

After turning of all the lights in the house and locking all of the doors, Izaya got ready for bed himself and retired to his own room. He picked up the small orange bottle he’d left on his bedside table after arriving home. Taking of the lid, he tipped the bottle until one small, circular, blue pill fell into the palm of his hand. He spared no time in studying it any further, just placed it in his mouth before swallowing it down with a glass of water.

He laid his head down on the pillow and covered himself with his blankets, willing his brain to shut down, along with the rest of his body. The lights were off but he could still make out certain shapes in the darkness. His chair in the corner of the room had someone sitting in it… His cupboard doors seemed to move of their own accord and the lumps of his clothes on the floor may as well have been a person crouched low on the ground, hiding, waiting to reach out and grab his ankle at any moments notice. It was better if he kept his eyes closed, so he did.

And he waited…

And waited…

But sleep never seemed to come. That wave he longed to have carry him away simply swelled to the shore and brushed by his feet.

It was so infuriating, he could have screamed.

The hours were slowly trudging by and the he could have sworn that bottle by his bedside was pulling him in, dragging him out to the ocean. He knew the contents of that bottle would sweep him up in that wave he so desperately craved. It was getting harder to ignore.

Shinra would kill you, Shinra would kill you if he knew.

But he didn't have to…

What did that four-eyed idiot know anyway, he wasn't really a doctor. Izaya prided himself on being above a flaw as human as addiction. He knew he had nothing to worry, about in that case. What was more dire was that chance that he would fail all his classes in school because he couldn't stay awake for them. Or that he’d drift into a state of insanity brought on by his lack of sleep and kill somebody. Sorry Shinra, but that’s of much more importance to me than anything you have to say about addiction…

He reached out in the dark and fumbled for the small bottle. Considering the absolute lack of effects one pill had on him, he’d take two more and be done with it. He tipped the container and three blue pills fell out. What the hell, he thought. Maybe this way i’ll get lucky and not wake up for a few days.

He brought his cupped hand to his mouth and swallowed down the three small circles, taking a gulp of water from the glass at his bedside to help him. After laying down once again, Izaya found that this time his body felt a little more relaxed, almost to the point at which he couldn't feel his limbs at all. His eyelids grew heavier and he couldn't have fought it even if he wanted to. The wave was too big to go under and too close to run back to shore. It swept over him and pulled his body into its depths. He hadn't slept so well in sixteen years.

Chapter Text

Izaya awoke gasping for breath. He shot upright in his bed, gulping down the cold air of his room like his life depended on it. He choked on an inhale when it came with a wetness in his lungs. The rattle of liquid caught in his throat made him cough and wheeze until his breath came a little more easily.

The first thing he noticed was the cold. The absolute chill of the winter air freezing his body doused in equally ice cold water. He couldn't stop shivering as he looked around his bed that had also been drenched into a sopping wet mess. Everything was saturated. It was then that his gaze came to land on the distraught faces of his two little sisters, standing beside his bed with unshed tears in their eyes and an empty bucket in their hands.

His lungs pulled a sharp intake of breath and his brows dropped into an angle of confusion and concern. “W-wha-“ But before he could stutter another word, the tears of those two little girl’s started to overflow. They both threw themselves at their brother, wailing into his shoulder as they clung for dear life.

“What’s wrong?!” He asked with a little more desperation, panic-stricken and disorientated.

“W- we… We thought-“ Mairu choked on the words, her gasping inhales and sobbing exhales leaving no room for an explanation.

“We thought Iza-nii was dead!” Kururi was able to whimper into her brother’s chest. Her tears pouring silent and sniffly rather than the sobbing mess of her sister. “Iza-nii’s chest was moving but you wouldn't wake up! We yelled and shook you but you didn't move!”

Izaya’s heart clenched painfully hard.

Fuck

A quick glance at the clock by his bedside told him that it was almost nine in the morning. That meant that if his sisters had woken up at their usual time of seven thirty, they had been trying to wake their unconscious brother for more than an hour. He must have been out cold if he slept through his alarms as well as the anguished yells of his sisters.

He wrapped his arms around their shaking shoulders, stroking their hair. “Shh, it’s okay. Iza-nii is okay, see? I was just a bit sick so I couldn't wake up, but I’m all better now.” He tried to comfort them until their breathing started to slow. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay.” Mairu eventually mumbled back, when both of their tear streaked and snot covered faces were no longer gasping for breath.

“You girls go and get ready for school now, okay? Iza-nii needs a hot shower.”

“But we’re already late!” Mairu whimpered again.

“I know. Don't worry about it, okay? I’ll send you with a note. Now quick, go get ready.” He spoke softly, shooing them off to their room so he could get ready himself. He jumped into the shower almost immediately, hoping to wash away the chill in his bones as well as clear his mind of the cloudy fog that had settled over it.

He’d slept through the night, which was a miracle in itself, but he didn't feel well-rested at all. His eyelids felt like lead, too heavy to hold. He was putting all of his effort into keeping them open and his body upright. Even as he made his way down the stairs, clothed in his rumpled school uniform he still felt in danger of passing out at any moment. To his great relief, Shirou never came home that night. It made getting ready a little easier. He downed an entire cup of coffee at the sink, refilling it at the last drop so he could drink it again, this time a little more slowly. He packed his school bag until the toaster popped out the two pieces of bread he’d put in, buttering them before carrying them over two his two sisters making their way down the stairs.

“Open.” He ordered.

They opened their mouths obediently and he placed a square of toast into each. It seems as though he would have to forgo breakfast himself, only sparing enough time to finish his coffee before refilling it a third time into a paper travel cup that he could drink on his way to school. He knew he wasn't being smart. He was perfectly aware of the consequences of taking a shit load of drugs and warding of the after effects with a shit load of caffeine.

He wasn't an idiot, he was just desperate.

He had just enough time to write out a note explaining the twins tardiness as a family emergency and signing it in the name of his father, before dashing out the door. It was a short walk to their school, he dropped them out the front of the institution and waited till they had entered the building, after which he took off himself. He ran to the school, all the while gulping down mouthfuls of his coffee — which wasn't easy, mind you — until the gates came into view. He slipped inside the building, dropping his empty paper cup into a bin at the door, and was able to discreetly join the mass of people pouring out of his classroom.

“Izaya!”

Izaya jumped at the call of his voice. The drowsy haze had lifted from his mind after the run to school, but now he just felt jittery, like all of his nerves were sending messages to his brain a little faster than usual.

Izaya turned to find Shinra manoeuvring his way through the crowd of their class, Shizuo and Kadota lagging behind him.

“Where were you this morning?” The brunette asked, an inquisitive expression gracing his features.

“I slept in a bit late.” Izaya spoke, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner.

Shinra’s eyes immediately darkened. “Izaya…”

Izaya just waved a hand to dismiss the brunette’s obvious concern, trying to deem it irrational. “I’m fine. I was just really tired last night.” He promised. “Where are we going, anyway?” He asked in an attempt to change the subject. Whether Shinra was convinced or not, he let the topic go.

“P.E.” The brunette chirped. “I think we’re doing running.”

“Oh.” Izaya had completely forgotten, but he wasn't going to complain. Running was the perfect way to rid himself of the weird, nervous energy that had built up in place of the extreme drowsiness he had been experiencing really only minutes before. They followed the rest of their class down to the school locker rooms, boys and girls separating to enter through their respective doors. Izaya stopped in front of his locker to fiddle with the combination, while Shinra did the same to his own locker beside him.

When the the lock gave way and he was able to open the small door, he started to strip. He placed his folded jacket into the locker, followed by his shirt after stripping it over his head, careful to keep it clear of his still healing face. It was while he was busy pulling the cotton T-shirt of his P.E. uniform from his locker that he noticed Shinra’s gaze locked onto his bare stomach, probably studying the effects his medical intervention had on the healing of the cuts. Izaya quickly slipped the shirt over his head, blocking the brunette’s view. Shinra looked away to focus on undressing himself while Izaya slipped off his shoes and worked the buckle of his belt and the button of his jeans open, sliding them off his legs to replace them with a pair of cotton sport shorts and running shoes

Once everyone was dressed, the class slowly started to file outside and onto the grassy sports field. The sun was glaring bright onto the green expanse of land, making the temperature bearable for a mid winter’s day, even dressed in the minimal coverage of their uniform.

“Alright everyone, gather ‘round.” The teacher’s voice boomed over the crowd of students, he stood waving his arms as to gesture everyone closer together. “Today we will be focusing on sprints; short distance and long distance. We will start of by doing a lap of jogging around the entire oval, i’d like everyone to participate to the best of their ability. I’ll give you a few minutes to start stretching now.”

Izaya followed the teachers directions, along with the rest of the class. He leant down to touch his toes, holding the pose until he could feel the burn of his muscles being pulled into a stretch. He did the same to his arms, pulling them across each shoulder and behind his head. Everyone was caught up in doing their own series of stretches individually. It was while he was bent over with his legs apart, hands stretching to touch each foot and then the middle space in between his legs, that he felt someone’s eyes on him. He bent down a little further, stretching out the back of his thighs and calves far beyond comfort, until he could look upside down through the gap of his legs and catch the gaze of whoever was staring at him.

His eyes widened on surprise when the face he caught was Shizu-chan’s, and his attention was locked onto Izaya’s rear end currently perched in the air. The blood rushed to his face, from his upended position or from the embarrassment he wasn't sure, but he immediately brought himself upright and twisted his torso to direct a threatening glare back towards the blonde. By the time he had turned, Shizuo was already looking away from the raven, his focus on stretching an arm over his head. Izaya huffed in petulance, disappointed that he didn't get to let the brute know he’d been caught in the act of checking out his enemies butt.

“Alright, off you go! One lap!” The teacher yelled over the chatter of students and pointed in the direction of the rounded field. Everyone unenthusiastically broke into a light jog, starting on the lined path around the edge of the oval. Izaya started off at the tail end of the group, letting his feet carry him in a familiar forward motion. But soon that wasn't enough. Once Shinra beside him had started to lag behind and Izaya felt his feet long to further their strides, he told the other as much.

“Hey, i’m going to the front.” He panted. Shinra tried to respond but it merely came out in a wheeze so he just nodded his head in understanding while the brunette’s body slowed to fall behind the back of the group where the unfit students dragged their hurting limbs in an effort to keep up with the others. Izaya did the opposite. He let his body go until his legs spread in strides so long and fast they were almost leaps, and his arms swung in time with his lower body to urge him forward. In no time at all he had surpassed the group of students to find himself at the front, where the athletically skilled people resided. Izaya pushed himself even further, he was feeling better than he had in a while. He felt upbeat and well-rested, like all of his energy had made a comeback in the last hour or so.

He kept running until he was panting for breath. Running always made him feel alive, it was so easy to imagine the thumping footfalls of Shizuo right at his heels. Chasing him out of the school, chasing him out of whatever thoughts or feelings remained in his head other than the rush of pure adrenaline. He hadn't realised that he was now ahead of everyone else, that he was leading the group to the imagined finish line along with someone else at his side, matching his strides with their own. Even with a quick glance to his side, that blonde mop of hair was hard to mistake for anyone other than Shizuo’s.

Shizuo was looking straight ahead, taking even breaths with the ease of a professional sprinter. Izaya had always been of a competitive nature, always took everything as a personal challenge. So it should have come as no surprise to Shizuo when the raven put his head down and forced his body to move faster, forced his lungs to work a little harder until he was moving past the other, leaving Shizuo to huff frustration at his heels.

But his personal victory was short-lived, because Shizuo was speeding up again, his feet were hitting the ground a little harder and Izaya could almost feel him breathing down his neck, could feel that presence looming closer until it sent shivers down his spine. They were both ahead of the rest of the class by many meters now. The end of their track was coming closer and it was a constant struggle of power for Izaya, pushing himself just that little bit further only to have Shizuo match it with equal ferocity. He turned his sure to be frustrated expression towards the blonde, his eyebrows pinched on effort and his mouth pulled down into a scowl of mild annoyance. Shizuo caught his gaze, but he wasn't frowning, he wasn't glaring Izaya down with the threatening aura that always came so naturally to the blonde. He was smiling, grinning. White pearly teeth bared to the cool air, eyes bright on adrenaline and unruly bleached blonde locks whipping about in the wind.

Handsome. Gorgeous. God-like.

His thoughts were spiralling in disconcerting directions, but he pushed them back into the dark, dusty corners of his mind, where such ideas would go unseen and unheard. What he couldn't help was the stretch of his lips that overcame his own face. Shizuo’s smile felt contagious, Izaya couldn't stop the rush of adrenaline that came with letting his features morph into excitement, into something that reflected the fun he was having racing Shizuo stride for stride.

But Izaya had always been faster, lighter on his feet. That was why Shizuo had never managed to catch him in any one of their chases. Even without the obstacles Izaya always used to his advantage, the rooftops and wire fences that tested his parkour and only ever used to slow Shizuo down, he knew he could still beat him. He could still push himself beyond what he imagined his limits to be, it was something he prided himself on. His lack of self-preservation skills were a double edged sword, though they enabled him to surpass the skills of many others, he also knew they would be his demise. Shinra was right, he didn't know when to stop pushing himself and he didn't know when to ask for help. But that wasn't important right now, when the imaginary finish line was in sight. What was important was the last burst of energy that shot through his body and enabled him to gain a few steps in front of Shizuo.

The teacher had to move out of the way at the last minute to dodge the incoming missiles of his apparently two fastest students. Izaya dashed past the teacher with a breath of space between him and the blonde. Deeming him the finish line to their impromptu race, he started to slow down. It took a good few meters more for him to let his body comfortably descend into a jog and then a walk. He stood with his hands on his hips and panting for breath. He then turned back towards Shizuo who stood behind him, bent over with hands on his knees and gasping rough inhales of air.

“I won, Shizu-chan.” He spoke with as much energy as he could manage while his lungs still worked on replenishing his body with the oxygen he was lacking.

Shizuo huffed a small laugh. “Congratulations.” He managed between heaving breaths, finally giving up on the support of his feet as he dropped to the ground, his butt landing on the soft of the grass.

Izaya watched the conglomerate of his classmates still making their way around the last part of the track. He looked back down at Shizuo sprawled on the grass and held out his hand, hoping that everyone was too far away and too distracted to pay attention to anything happening where they were currently stopped. Shizuo squinted up at Izaya, the sun straining his eyes and slowly lifted his own hand to the other, as if he was waiting for Izaya to pull away at any second and leave Shizuo hanging on some cruel joke. But their hands met, Shizuo’s clasped firmly over Izaya’s smaller and paler one. He put what little weight he had in his back legs and pulled on Shizuo’s grasp, leaning back to balance the pull of his weight. Shizuo came up off the ground in a smooth, easy motion. Izaya assumed it was the blonde’s effort rather than his own that brought ease to the gesture.

“Thanks.” He grunted once he’d been brought to his feet with Izaya’s assistance. They walked back over to where the teacher stood watching the other students that were now approaching the end of their jog. Some of the athletic enthusiasts jogging at the front of the group sent dark glares their way as they passed them by, slowing to a stop a little bit ahead of them. The middle of the group came with Kadota slowing to a stop next to Shizuo, still panting hot gusts of steam into the cool air. Izaya had to wait a little bit longer until the tail-end of the group came past and brought Shinra with them. He watched the athletically deprived losers stumble past their little group until Shinra dropped to his knees and then to his face to lay flat in front of them.

“How pitiful.” He sighed in mock sympathy, using his sneaker clad foot to roll the brunette onto his back. Shinra’s face was tomato red, his mouth parted on heavy gulps of air.

“Help… Me.” He wheezed, his limbs frozen and sprawled around his unresponsive body.

“You’re far beyond my help.” Izaya drawled, only leaning down to run his hand over either side of Shinra’s shorts, once he noticed the brunette’s pathetic attempt at moving his arm closer to his pocket, only to flop against the ground before he could make it. Izaya stopped on the side that held the bumpy outline of his inhaler and reached into Shinra’s pocket to pull it out. He pulled off the cap and shook it a couple of times before placing it against Shinra’s mouth, pressing down on the button to pump the Ventolin into his friend’s mouth. Shinra inhaled the medicated gas, taking long, deep breaths to bring it down into his lungs. Izaya repeated the process another time and then drew the device away from Shinra’s mouth, capping it and depositing it back into the pocket of the other’s sport shorts.

“I didn't know he was asthmatic.” Shizuo mumbled from beside Izaya, while Shinra had steadied his breathing enough to sit up.

Izaya shrugged, not deeming the statement worthy of a verbal response.

Shinra sat out for the rest of the class, what was supposed to be his warm-up left him unable to participate in anything other than being an observer. They continued on with the rest of the day’s exercises, short distance sprints and small races. Izaya excelled in everything he did, even more than that when on the off chance that Shizuo was placed into his group, they would push each other to go beyond that of the rest of the class in some unstated competition. Even when he was by himself, or working in a group with people he had no connection to, he still kept up the pace that put him ahead of everyone else, if only for the eyes he could constantly feel on him from the one person who’s attention he’d alway made an effort to keep.

The lesson finished with everyone sat on the grass — some sprawled — while the teacher praised his students for their hard work and explained what we would be looking forward to participating in the next week. Apparently swimming was the planned curriculum and Izaya seriously questioned their judgement for choosing to do such a thing in the middle of winter.

The bell rang for lunch and the teacher dismissed his class with the wave of a hand. Everyone stood up from the grass on their too sore legs and stumbled off to the locker room. Izaya stood, stretching his arms above his head in an effort to smooth out the crick in his back.

“Orihara and Heiwajima, come here for a moment please.” Izaya and Shizuo both paused in their movements to follow the rest of their class into the locker room, confused as to the reason they were being singled out when they had made more of an effort than usual to not be disruptive towards the class. They walked over to the teacher regardless, while Shinra and Kadota continued to walk back inside with the rest of the class.

“You two boys were very impressive today. There are a lot of athletic achievers in this class but you seemed to outrun them all.” Izaya didn't know how to respond to that, and by the confused expression gracing Shizuo’s features, Izaya knew the blonde was in the same boat. “The Prefectural Athletics festival is on this weekend.” He stated. “Our school had been invited to participate in the relay competition at the last minute. I’d like you two to represent Raijin.”

Izaya couldn't control his expression as it was blown into one of surprise, wide eyed and mouth agape. He hadn't much clue where the conversation was going but this was certainly not it.

“You’d be competing against a range of other schools in Tokyo. It’ll look good on your school record and there is prize money for first place.”

That caught Izaya’s attention. Though it wasn't something he’d usually be interested in, he didn't have much room to refuse now. If there was money involved, that meant he could make his sisters lives a little more luxurious for the time being.

“Okay.” Izaya immediately agreed, catching the shocked whip of Shizuo’s head in his peripheral vision. The teacher smiled at the blonde, waiting for his response. Shizuo sighed.

“Fine.” He mumbled.

The teacher looked far more excited than either of his students. “That’s great!” He clapped his hands together. “You’ll need to train during lunch until the weekend and there will be lots of teamwork involved.” He cheered. “But I think you boys will do great!” He quickly laughed, slapping the boys on their back and pushing them off in the direction on the locker room before they could change their mind.

They made their way back in silence and by the time they arrived, the room was empty, everyone already having dressed themselves and left in their haste for lunch. It meant that the space was eerily quiet as they both opened their lockers, Shizuo’s a few spaces down from his own. Izaya couldn’t help but feel exceedingly vulnerable and bare in the empty space. He stripped out of his shirt and replaced it with his school one as quickly as he could, so as to the prevent any further questions about the dubious cuts marring his stomach, should Shizuo happen to see them. But when he turned to chance a glance at the other, he was met with Shizuo’s back. Izaya watched the blonde strip his shirt over his head, revealing the smooth tan skin of his shoulders that flexed at the action. He watched the muscles shift under the movement, and trailed his gaze down the knobs of his spine to the small of his back, only to land on-

Izaya caught himself before his corrupt thoughts could escalate any further, turning away from Shizuo and completing the act of changing into his own clothes. He slid the cotton shorts down the pale expanse of his thighs and shoved them back into his locker, pulling out his rumpled jeans instead to cover his unclothed legs. By the time he was finished tying up the laces of his shoes and had slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, Shizuo had dressed himself as well and they were finally able to leave the environment filled with tension on their inability to communicate with each other.

Izaya had been following Shizuo to the roof without noticing, lost in an exhausted haze. He thought about stopping with an excuse and heading to the library, but they were already coming up the stairs and Izaya honestly felt too tired to be bothered using his brain for anything other than walking, let alone coming up with an elaborate and believable excuse as to why he couldn't eat lunch with his friends. It seemed that whatever was keeping him switched on before, the coffee, the adrenaline of physical movement, had all come crashing down to leave him so incredibly drowsy and sad, he could cry if that wasn't more effort than what he was willing to spare.

Shizuo pushed open the door to the roof and Izaya was met with the chilled wind that whipped through his bones. He took his place on the cold concrete next to the blonde, only because that let him sit with his back resting against the chain link fence surrounding the roof.

“What did the teacher want you for?” Kadota spoke in between bites of his food.

Shizuo started to pull his own bento box from his bag to set it on the ground in front of him. “He asked us to represent the school in a relay competition this weekend.” He said, shrugging in nonchalance.

“What? That’s awesome!” Shinra chirped, eyes lighting up behind the rim of his glasses. “We’ll be sure to cheer you on!” He beamed.

“Thanks.” Shizuo grumbled, sounding a little less enthused about the idea.

Izaya couldn't have contributed to the conversation even if he wanted to. His head was tipping back against the fence and his eyes were weighting shut. He tried to push himself to keep them open, to utilise whatever last drops of energy he had in keeping his body conscious. But he was so tired his body wouldn't listen to him, the messages his brain was sending his nerves never seemed to reach. I’ll just close my eyes for a second, he thought.

Just…

A second…

Chapter Text

“He must’ve really worn himself out with all that running, poor little guy.” Shinra cooed from his place on the concrete, smiling softly at Izaya’s sleeping form.

Shizuo scoffed, eyeing the raven’s curled up body distastefully. He’d fallen asleep almost immediately without a care in the world, knees hugged tight to his chest and head lolled back against the support of the chain link fence. His breathing was soft and steady, a telltale sign of the deep slumber he had so easily fallen into.

The musical chime that signalled the end of their lunch would soon blare. Shizuo was barely half way through his lunch before the single speaker placed on the wall of the roof crackled into sound. He packed the rest of his food away with a sigh, reigning in his disappointment and exhaustion with the thought of his favourite class — and one of the few he enjoyed — that would be taking place next period.

“You have music next, right? With Izaya?” Shinra chirped after jumping up from the ground, his previously depleted energy apparently having been renewed during the short lunch break.

“Yeah.” Shizuo grunted in response, hoping that Izaya’s playful yet placid mood would extend over the rest of the day in place of the narcissistic, conniving parasite he had always known him to be.

“Have fun!” The brunette beamed and the slam of the roof door closing behind Shinra and Kadota followed almost immediately after, leaving Shizuo alone with Izaya, still out cold in his spot against the fence. He contemplated leaving him there, making his way to class without attempting to shake the other from their sleep. But he liked to think he wasn't as cruel as so many people often thought he was, never mind that he’d surely never hear the end of it, once Shinra or Izaya had found out.

So he reached out to grasp Izaya’s shoulder, shaking with as little strength as he could muster. “Izaya.” He grumbled, receiving no response whatsoever. “Izaya. Wake up.” He called a little louder and shook with a little more fervour. Izaya didn't even stir. “Jesus, you’re a heavy sleeper.” He mumbled under his breath, releasing his grip on Izaya’s shoulder, else he shake any harder and snap the idiot’s neck.

Shizuo shuffled forward on his knees, leaning in to Izaya’s face, close enough that he could bring his lips a breath of touching the other’s ear.

“IZAYA! WAKE UP!”

Izaya’s hands shot out in front of him, his entire body flinching back to press into the fence behind him. Shizuo startled at the sudden movement, instinctively leaning back and away from the other. Izaya was breathing hard, gasping for air, his face morphed into an expression of absolute terror.

But it only lasted a second. Once recognition settled into Izaya’s features, his expression turned into one of confusion. He lowered his hands back to his body and started to steady his breathing, all the while shooting this gaze around the area, as if he was trying to discern where he really was.

“What- what happened?” He asked.

Shizuo’s throat worked on a swallow. “Lunch is over.” He spoke, his voice rasping over the unsettling feeling that coursed through his veins the moment Izaya’s terror-stricken expression locked onto his face. “You wouldn't wake up.”

“Oh.” Izaya let out with a deep sigh, seeming to have fully relaxed now. “Ughh.” He suddenly groaned, bringing a hand up to grasp his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo questioned, eyebrows risen into an expression of dubious concern.

Izaya groaned again, moving his hand to cover his mouth instead. “I feel really sick.” He breathed. “And dizzy.” He added, trying to push himself up from the ground. He only made it to his wobbly feet for a second, before they gave out from under him and he stumbled back to the ground. Shizuo stretched his hands out on instinct to catch the other, but Izaya’s knees had already hit the concrete.

“Do you need to go to the infirmary?” Shizuo asked, only now noting how Izaya’s complexion had paled into ashen.

“No.” Izaya mumbled, eyes closed and body slumped over on the ground. Then, “Could you please pass me my bag?”

Shizuo blinked, “Uh, sure.” He grabbed the strap of Izaya’s bag sitting by his feet and dropped it next to the raven.

“Thanks.” He sighed. Izaya zipped open his bag and started to rummage around in the mess of papers and books, until he pulled out a small, white bottle. He removed the cap and emptied three round pills into his hand.

“What’s that?” Shizuo asked, looking at the pills in Izaya’s hand with one part concern and two parts suspicion.

“It’s just ibuprofen.” He mumbled. “Do you have any water?” He asked, seeming to have realised he didn't have any of his own.

Shizuo narrowed his eyes at Izaya, then again at his own school bag. “Yeah.” He sighed, reaching into his bag to pull out his own bottle of water, before handing it off to Izaya.

Izaya accepted the bottle without thanking him. Only taking the time to twist off the cap before popping the pills into his mouth and downing them with a swig from Shizuo’s bottle of water. Shizuo cringed when Izaya’s lips met the rim of his bottle without hesitating in the slightest. Not even taking a moment to consider how he might be opposed to that. He just capped the bottle and threw it in the blonde’s direction. Shizuo only just managed to catch it, even with every nerve in his body telling him to dodge the incoming attack, immediately assuming the projectile to be a knife, or some other kind of blade so often thrown by the flea.

Izaya had his head tipped back now. His eyes were closed as he eased his breathing into something that would fight off the onslaught of dizziness. It left Shizuo to look down at the bottle in his hand unobserved. He fiddled with the cap, trying to push back the sudden urge to drink from the bottle while the memory of Izaya’s lips wrapped around the rim was still fresh in his mind. Shizuo’s cheeks darkened a shade or two, making him grateful for the current lack of prying eyes. He couldn't explain why his breathing grew a little heavier, why the rush of adrenaline had started to thrum through his veins, as though he wasn’t thinking about taking a sip from a bottle of water.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

He looked up once more to make sure Izaya’s eyes remained closed, only then deciding to give into the strange heat laden excitement that left his blood pounding in his ears. Maybe it was the rush of doing something so wrong that left him feeling this overheated. It was the only explanation he could fathom that didn't make him feel like an absolute fucking creep. He abruptly ended his hesitation by uncapping the bottle and bringing it to his lips, paying attention to the way his own lips wrapped around the rim, trying to see if he could taste the imprint Izaya’s had left. There was a kind of relief once his lips met the bottle, an end to the adrenaline that was almost just as pleasurable as the rush itself. He closed his eyes and let himself bask in the electricity of the feeling, letting his lips linger on the bottle a little longer than necessary.

When he opened his eyes, his heart jumped out of his throat. Izaya’s eyes were open now, his gaze wide eyed and locked onto Shizuo’s own. Every cell in Shizuo’s body froze under the attention. There was no possible way that Izaya could know what Shizuo had been thinking, no way he could be reading the other’s thoughts. But maybe the dark of his cheeks gave it away, maybe his own expression akin to that of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar was what gave him away. Regardless, Izaya’s startled appearance, mouth slightly parted on surprise, made Shizuo wish the world would swallow him up right at that very moment, or maybe for a meteor to come and obliterate his pathetic existence.

Instead he just averted his gaze into something resembling ignorance, swallowing down a gulp of his water as though that was his only intention all along, that he had just been distracted at an unfortunate time. He would feign innocence because he immediately knew that was all he do to salvage the situation. Shizuo hastily re-capped the bottle and shoved it into his bag, only slinging it over his shoulder once he had pushed himself to his feet.

Izaya was still sat on the ground, staring up at Shizuo with a confused expression. Shizuo fought to keep his gaze level and locked onto Izaya’s own, resisting the temptation to look away. After a few seconds, Izaya broke into a small grin. He lifted his hand up into the air, keeping his arm stretched out in the blonde’s direction. Coupled with a risen eyebrow, Izaya just looked mildly amused with maybe the smallest amount of suspicion. It was better than the anger or disgust he had half expected to see flash over the raven’s features.

Shizuo stretched out his arm and grasped the open palm of Izaya’s own hand, still familiar from their reversed position that morning. The muscles of his arm barely flexed at the effort of lifting Izaya up off of the ground, the entire action done with such ease, Izaya may as well have weighed as much as feather. He just about did, Shizuo thought. Izaya stumbled a bit on his feet, only letting go of Shizuo’s hand once he had regained enough balance to trust his own support.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shizuo asked, frowning at the pinch in Izaya’s brows as he leant over to pull the weight of his school bag over and onto his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine.” He sighed, starting towards the door with a little more confidence than he had shown beforehand. “Let’s go. We have music now don’t we?”

“Yeah.” Shizuo mumbled, following after Izaya, catching the door he had pulled open and stepping down onto the stairs leading back to the ground floor of the school. He walked just behind Izaya, ready to reach out and grab the back of his jacket the moment he started to stumble or trip on one of the steps. Izaya made it to the bottom without having to stop or wobble over his next step, his white-knuckled grip on the railing beside him seemed to be enough support for his flimsy looking body.

They eventually made it to the classroom, the teacher only sparing them a short glance at their late entrance. But her brain must have only registered the identity of her two students once she had looked away, because she doubled back almost immediately after. Staring in bewilderment at the the sight of Shizuo taking a seat on the carpeted ground behind the other students and Izaya claiming a spot right next to him; closer than what was really necessary and only after he had dropped his bag next to Shizuo’s own at the back of the room near the door.

Her wide-eyed gaze drew the attention of every other person in the classroom. Head’s turned back to stare at them and Shizuo felt himself shrink down under the attention. The teacher cleared her throat and turned away from the two, continuing her talk to the class as each student eventually turned back as well. It took a while before Shizuo could relax enough to listen into whatever the teacher was saying.

“And so for the next week or so, we will be foregoing our theoretical work in order to focus on your practical assessments.” She spoke over the class from her spot at the front of the room. “You will be required to form a group of two or more and create a musical piece of at least three minutes. It must include some kind of instrument and it’s up to you whether or not you would like to include lyrics and vocals. Though I can tell you, it will get you extra marks. You’re now free to form your groups and start on your projects.” She called with the wave of her hand. The class erupted into a sudden chatter of students calling over their friends in order to form a group and discuss what genre of music they would create.

Shizuo readied himself to approach the teacher and convince her to let him work on his own. He had only made it to his feet before he felt a tug on the leg of his pants. He looked down to find Izaya staring up at him, face innocently blank and devoid of any condescending smirk.

“Want to be in a group together, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo frowned. “Why would I want to be in a group with you?” Shizuo growled with a little more menace than he had intended.

Izaya didn't seem fazed by the threatening tone, he just shrugged. “Did you have someone else in mind?” Izaya spoke while looking around the room, his gaze a gesture to the multitude of students that avoided the two of them like the plague.

Shizuo sighed. “Fine. What can you play?” He asked.

Izaya shrugged yet again. “Nothing, yet.”

Shizuo bristled. “Then why the hell did you choose music as an elective!?” Shizuo had honestly thought as much, it was unlikely that Izaya was capable of anything genuine and creative, but he was still positive his face had morphed into utter disbelief.

“I thought it would be interesting.” Izaya spoke airily, disregarding Shizuo’s disgruntled expression with the wave of his hand. “I’m a quick learner, i’m sure it’ll be fine.” He grinned up at the blonde.

“Okay.” Shizuo sighed, unable to so easily dismiss Izaya’s confidence, even if he did think it was a little misplaced. He turned on his heel and stalked off to one of the small, soundproof rooms regardless, grabbing an acoustic guitar from the wall on his way. The door shut behind him a few seconds after entering, so it came as no surprise when he turned to find Izaya taking a seat on one of the stools sat in the now enclosed space.

“So.” He breathed. “What are we doing?”

Shizuo fought the urge to roll his eyes. “We have to write a song, weren't you listening?”

Izaya’s eyes only narrowed in response. “Of course I was.” He abruptly stood up from his seat and turned to pull the door open again. Shizuo had a sudden pang of anxiety that he had been too gruff, that he had finally broken the delicate realm of balance between them with an unnecessary, sarcastic comment.

But Izaya barely spared him a glance, only providing and offhand “Well make a start on it, i’m going to go find another guitar”, before walking out of the door and letting the heavy weight of it fall shut behind him. Shizuo released the breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding, too relieved to be annoyed at the casual order Izaya had just thrown his way. He made the most of his current solitude, leaning back on his stool and against the wall he was sat in front of, closing his eyes and letting his fingers wander over the strings of the guitar. It wasn't as nice as the guitar he kept at home, but it played well enough. He started to pluck a calming melody, getting lost in the soft sound that never failed to ease the tension from his body. By the time Izaya slipped back into the room, a similar guitar in hand, Shizuo felt significantly more relaxed then before the other had left.

Izaya re-seated himself on the stool across from Shizuo and settled the guitar on his lap. “You’re left handed.” Shizuo observed, noting the way Izaya held the guitar in the opposite direction of his own.

“Mhm.” Izaya hummed. “This was the only left-handed one they had so it was lucky no one else wanted it.” He re-positioned the guitar until it was comfortable in his grip, looking like he was ready to strum some kind of note, only to stop before he really made any move to do anything other than hold the instrument in his hands. Shizuo tried to hold back the small smile threatening to stretch his lips. He had never seen Izaya look so utterly lost, so lacking in information on what to do with the object in his hands. He just stared at it, face devoid of any emotion, as though if he stared long enough, his brain might provide him with the knowledge to play an instrument that Shizuo doubted he had ever touched before.

“Come here.”

Izaya startled at the sound of Shizuo’s voice, looking up from his empty gaze over the guitar. “What?” He asked, voice just as blank as the features of his face.

Shizuo did roll his eyes this time. “Come here.” He spoke with a little more force, patting the empty stool next to him. “We’re not going to get anywhere with you just staring at it.” He explained when the only response he received was a raised eyebrow. Izaya stood up from his spot and seated himself next to Shizuo instead, resettling the guitar in his lap.

“Teach me, Shizuo-sensei.” He drawled, a smirk painting his lips.

“Shut up.” Shizuo scowled, redirecting his attention towards his own guitar. He positioned his fingers over the strings and strummed the chord with his other hand. “This is E minor. It’s the easiest chord because you only need two fingers.” He explained. Izaya studied the pattern of Shizuo’s fingers and tried to replicate it with his own, strumming the sound after he deemed it correct. Shizuo re-positioned his fingers into a different pattern. “This is one is G. It’s a pretty common one so it’s good to know.” He mumbled, watching Izaya once again replicate the pattern with a certain grace.

“This one is F.” Shizuo spoke. “It’s a little more difficult because it is a bar chord.” Shizuo watched Izaya struggle to reach each string with his smaller hands. “You’re using the wrong fingers.” He reprimanded. “Here, let me show you.” Shizuo dropped his guitar to lean it against the wall beside him, using his free hands to shuffle his seat a little closer to Izaya’s. He could feel Izaya watching him carefully as he leant closer and into the other’s space, but he didn't move away or flinch at the close proximity. Shizuo took that as a sign to continue. He reached out to grasp his hand around Izaya’s wrist, pulling it back up to the neck of the guitar. He then slid his hand up the other’s fragile wrist and over the back of his hand, trying to put as little strength as possible into the effort of moving the pale length of Izaya’s fingers over the correct strings.

It wasn't necessary, he knew it wasnt, but he brought his other hand out anyway, wrapping it around Izaya’s back so he could grasp his other hand and move it to the spot where the strings stretched out over the open space of the guitar. “There.” He breathed. The position left part of his shoulder and chest pressing against Izaya’s back, and he knew he should pull away, his excuse of correcting Izaya’s technique fading with every second he still sat pressed against the other’s body.

It wasn't until he felt Izaya shudder under the weight of Shizuo’s chest that he was snapped out of whatever warm haze had possessed him to do such a thing. He drew back from Izaya’s body as though he’d been burnt, the other’s awareness lancing through his own. He almost tipped himself off of his seat at the abrupt urge to get as much distance between them as possible. For the second time that day, he schooled his features into a feigned innocence, choosing the bliss of ignorance over excepting the embarrassment for what he had just done.

When he felt as though his expression was blank enough to catch the other’s gaze, Izaya was staring at him with an unguarded look of utter confusion. It made it evidently more difficult for Shizuo to keep up his facade. “Play it.” He said, nodding his head towards the chord Izaya’s fingers were still settled over. Thankfully, Izaya averted his gaze before Shizuo had to, looking down at his hands in order to press his fingers a little more forcefully against the bridge of the guitar and strum perfectly manicured fingernails across the strings.

“Now just practice moving between those.” He provided, moving to pick up his own guitar and settle it back over his lap. Izaya kept his focused gaze trained onto the movement of his hands, and within a few minutes he was shifting between the chords with a newfound ease. Shizuo played alongside him, a soft melody in tune with the pattern of notes Izaya had chosen.

It was hard to believe that not a week ago he couldn't stand the sight of Izaya. If someone had told him that fast forward a few days and they’d be doing something as innocent as playing a gentle matching melody of guitar alongside each other, he’d have scoffed in utter disbelief and realigned that person’s head for coming up with something so incredibly ridiculous. As it was, over the past few days he found himself constantly having to pinch or squeeze a tender patch of skin just to make sure he wasn't still stuck in some disturbingly vivid dream.

It was surreal at the very least and he knew it could only last so long.

“You’re really good.”

Shizuo startled at the sound of Izaya’s voice, abruptly torn from his quiet reverie. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with the present, all he was able to offer in the meantime was a baffled “Huh?”

“You’re really good.” Izaya repeated, gesturing towards the instrument that still sat silent in Shizuo’s lap. He hadn't even realised he’d stopped playing it. “At the guitar.”

Surely he hadn't heard that right, Izaya complementing him? But Izaya didn't look sarcastic or mocking, he looked the most sincere Shizuo had ever seen him, aside from the time they shared on the ferris wheel, that was.

Shizuo averted his gaze, using one hand to rub the back of his neck in an unconscious habit. “Uh, i’ve been… playing for a while. So… yeah.” He offered, inexperienced in receiving compliments and even more so at returning them.

“Hmm… I didn't know that.” Izaya spoke, deep in thought. Probably appalled at the revelation that there was a piece of information he had overlooked on his favourite ‘monster’. Well, not even Izaya could know everything, right? He was already feeling a little unsettled at having given that information out so freely, Izaya’s calculating expression only making him feel more so.

……….......

When their last class for the day had finally reached it’s end, Shizuo began the arduous task of ridding his locker of every textbook he would need in order to complete the night’s homework and somehow forcing them to fit into the small space of his school bag instead. He ended up having to carry two tucked under his arm.

He thought that by now Izaya would think it routine that Shizuo walked him home from wherever they had spent the day. But in their separation to reach the lockers, Shizuo had lost site of Izaya. He made his way out of the front doors of the school building and searched the grassy expanse in front of him for a familiar head of raven hair.

He found him not a few seconds later, walking out of the school gate, shoulders hunched, hands tucked into his pockets and what looked like headphones hanging from his ears. Shizuo had to jog to catch up to Izaya, only lifting out a hand to land at the other’s shoulder once he was in touching distance, or knifing distance as he soon found out. The hand already settled inside the pocket of Izaya’s jacket, tensed at the contact to his shoulder. Shizuo barely had enough time to step back and out of the way before that hand whipped out with an open blade in its grasp. Izaya didn't spare a glance at Shizuo, merely swiping an arc of silver into the air and almost catching Shizuo’s school shirt in the process, a slightly altered imitation of their first meeting.

“What the fuck!?” He bellowed. Izaya’s eyes went impossibly wide once he recognised the victim he'd just tried to butcher.

“Shit.” He muttered, folding the knife back into his pocket and plucking an earphone out from one side of his head. “Sorry.” He spoke with wary smile, breathing a nervous sort of laugh at Shizuo’s fiery glare. “You surprised me.” He said simply, like that was an exceptional explanation for trying to knife somebody. Then, “I thought you were someone else.”

Shizuo sighed. “Jeez what kind of shady shit have you been pulling that means you freak out over something like that.”

“I didn't freak out. I’m just… on high alert.” He chirped, continuing on his path out of the school and not so much as raising a brow at the way Shizuo immediately fell into step beside him. They continued walking like that for a while, a cool breeze whispering through the surrounding trees and the soft hum of Izaya’s music from his discarded headphone to keep him company. He supposed he should be grateful that the flea hadn't shoved the other one back in as soon as they had started walking in an effort to ignore him completely.

They couldn't have been walking for more than a few minutes when Shizuo started to recognise the pattern of sound emanating from Izaya’s headphones. It took him a while to place the song; he recognised the tune, the lyrics came easily to him, so why couldn't he put a name to the artist? Shizuo sucked in a sharp intake of breath. Then,

“Are you listening to Lana Del Ray?”

Izaya’s body immediately tensed, the action causing him to stumble over his own feet. He quickly righted himself before making any kind of an impact with the ground. He could school his features into any expression or mask he so chose, it didn't matter when the instinctive muscle memory of his body would always betray him.

“What is it of your concern?” He breezed, brushing aside his momentary lapse in bodily control.

Shizuo tried his best not to laugh, worried the humiliation would only piss Izaya off beyond repair. “I’m just surprised you like her is all.” He was surprised the flea enjoyed something as normal as listening to music, period. He figured Izaya would be the kind of person to find it irritating or a waste of time. It only went to show how little he really knew about the boy.

Izaya just shrugged. “She’s a talented artist and her music is catchy.”

Shizuo couldn't hold back his short huff of laughter at that, amused that Izaya would gravitate towards anything that resembled ‘catchy’. “Yeah she is.” He admitted.

“Izaya raised an eyebrow in his direction, a small smirk gracing his lips. “What, does Shizu-chan like her too?” he asked, embarrassment giving way to amusement.

“Yeah, i do. That’s my favourite song by her too.” He confessed, gesturing towards Izaya’s headphones.

“Really.” Izaya countered, tone laced with suspicion. But he let it go and continued walking, hesitating for only a moment before lifting the spare headphone hanging by his side and holding it out in Shizuo’s direction. Shizuo almost stumbled at the gesture, taking more than a moment to realise it required a physical response on his end. When Izaya mistook Shizuo’s bafflement for hesitation, he started to pull his hand back, retracting the offer with a wry smirk to conceal any disappointment he may have felt.

Shizuo quickly shot his hand out, grasping the earphone before Izaya could fully return it to his side. He placed the bud into his left ear while Izaya averted his gaze. Immediately the high quality sound of ‘West Coast’ flowed into his ear, the low hum of the bass reverberating through his head and instantly relaxing his muscles into a slack ease.

They had to keep walking a little closer than before, the length of the headphones keeping them from straying too far apart. Shizuo’s shoulder brushed Izaya’s on every step and he found himself taking comfort in the friendly contact. It would have been a sight to behold, he knew. Shizuo Heiwajima walking too close to his arch nemesis, the bane of his existence, whilst sharing headphones and brushing shoulders like they’d been best friends since childhood.

At least Izaya didn't stop in a startle when they neared his house, but the exhausted glance he spared at the car parked in the driveway made Shizuo wish he had. It felt less like Izaya had stopped being daunted by the idea of coming home to whatever it was that was distressing him and more like he had surrendered to something he felt he couldn't change. Like he had given up.

It bothered him more than he thought it should.

………………

Shizuo fell into bed emotionally exhausted and physically drained. The soft of his pillow and the warmth of his blankets only enhanced the drowsiness clouding his senses, making sleep an inevitable wave barrelling towards him. Despite this, he strained to keep his eyes open, to keep his mind alive with awareness and grasping onto something that would fight off unconsciousness.

He needed to because he couldn't shake the fear.

It was driving him crazy, the relentless paranoia distorting his rationality, the constant tremor of anxiety that told him he would go to sleep that night, only to wake up in a world gone unfamiliar over the past week; the real word.

And what frightened him the most was the disconcerting revelation that he’d rather have the world he was currently in, that he’d never sleep again if it meant he would get to wake in a universe where there was a chance he could have something besides incessant hatred with the one person who’d never been afraid him. He wanted the chance to untangle the complicated relationship between them into something less destructive, something that would help them both.

He wanted to stop hating himself.

But it never worked, just like he couldn't forever hold back his mind’s will to slumber. His eyelids would drop in lethargy and his body would go limp in fatigue. He would slip into unconsciousness no matter how hard he fought against it. The wave would pull him under and he would suffocate beneath it’s weight. Only to wake again, gasping for breath.

Shizuo slept with the sound of ‘West Coast’ humming throughout his head and the imaginary brush of Izaya’s shoulder warm against his own.

Chapter Text

Izaya let the heavy weight of the front door shut behind him. He felt so exhausted he half expected his organs to give up and shut down at any moment. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under the warmth of his comforter and stay there forever, wrapped in a protective barrier that would keep him away from every thing, every thought, every person outside of his room. He picked himself up from his spot slumped back against the door and made to do just that.

The only sound in the house was the thud of Izaya’s footsteps falling heavy up each stair. He silently thanked the universe for Mairu and Kururi’s friends that deemed them tolerable enough to spend the night; the thought of fulfilling any kind of responsibility other than the call to relinquish his hold on reality currently seemed an impossible task. He pushed open the ajar weight of his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, letting it swing wide enough that it would fall closed behind him without the encouragement of his touch.

Izaya let the burden of his school bag drop to the floor beside his desk and let the burden of his body fall face first into the soft of his bed, toeing his shoes off over the edge until they tumbled to the ground. He could have let himself drift into dreams just like that, with his limbs splayed out on the rumpled sheets and his body as boneless as that of a murder victim being analysed at the scene of a crime; he felt as though he was a blink away from falling into the weight of an unshakable coma that would hold him hostage the rest of the day and into the late hours of tomorrow.

But the irritating pressure of self preservation continued to press into the back of his head, so with more strength than he thought himself currently capable of, Izaya pushed himself back off of the bed and settled himself on unsteady feet that he then dragged across the distance fixing itself to the closed door. His eyes were blurry and weighted with drowsiness, but he’d completed the task a thousand times before; let his fingers fall to the cool metal knob sat just above the door handle and twisted it over until the click of the lock sliding into place was heard, promising the relief of as much safety as it had to offer. It was a natural occurrence, bred from the inability to repress gaping insecurities and incessant paranoia; brought on by the insistent press of unwanted memories and thoughts alike.

So it came as a surprise when Izaya’s fingers merely grazed the texture of rough, unfinished wood. The smooth brass of the lock he’d always known to be there had seemingly vanished under his touch. The confusion came first, his mind reeled with the force of it, while his hand brushed over every inch of space surrounding the first his fingers touched. With the curtains drawn shut, the room was drowned in the dark of shadows; so Izaya lifted his hand to the nearby wall instead, skimming the surface until he could flick the light switch over and bring the room into further clarity.

A quick glance back at the door and Izaya’s stomach dropped down to his toes. He had been expecting a momentary lapse in his sanity; for the lock to have been somewhere entirely different to the space he’d remembered, maybe even to find that it had never been there at all, for his exhausted state to have produced a vivid hallucination in which his bedroom door itself was entirely absent. He’d have rather’d that, he thought; even the idea of temporary insanity felt more desirable than the reality of cold foreboding truth.

It was obvious that at some point there had indeed been something other than the vacant space Izaya now laid eyes upon. That much was evident in the raw, splintered patch of wood; as though someone had forced the lock out of the door through the use of a chisel, a hammer or even an axe. Upon closer inspection, Izaya also spotted the existence of a small hole drilled all the way through to the other side of the door, confirming that despite the violent separation of the outer part of the lock, the complete inner workings of the device had also been removed.

He felt sick.

It overwhelmed every other emotion: the anger, the frustration, the fear and the helplessness, it was all twisting his stomach tight. But more than anything—

He just felt sick.

Izaya sucked in a shaky breath, but on exhale it came out closer to a sob. Through watery eyes, he moved to grab the wooden chair sat next to his wardrobe and drag it over by the door. He pushed the chair forward at an angle that left the highest part of the object lodged tight beneath the door handle. Izaya had never been one to hold much thought towards the idea of safety, of security. He trusted his instincts, trusted his ability to make the right decision and preserve his and his family’s safety; and as such, he’d never paid much mind to the assurance of a lock, to how much protection it had to offer; if not so much physically then for the peace of his mind it offered, the blanket of comfort. Only now that he’s had that protection stripped away from him, did he feel like he craved it the most.

He let his body collapse back down onto the bed, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders and his school shirt over his head. His dark jeans met the floor as well, leaving him clad in only his boxers and his skin bare to the soft sheets he pulled up to his neck.

The mattress was still damp from being drenched that morning, but he paid it no mind, relishing in the way it made his body want to curl up tighter under the covers. Izaya blindly fumbled his hand over the bedside table until he was able to grasp the small bottle still placed there. Thumbing open the cap, he lifted his face from the bed so he could pay attention to what he was doing, watching as the remaining three pills fell out of the tipped bottle and onto the bed. He was eager to drift back into the longest and most consecutive sleep he’d had in months, but not as eager to reexperience the after affects upon waking. The idea of slipping into deep unconsciousness behind a door that would offer as much resistance to his father as if it were never there at all also pressed unease into the back of his mind. It was that thought that left him placing one of the pills back into the container, only taking the two left sitting on the bed into his hand before swallowing them down dry. He hoped that retiring to sleep so early in the evening would leave him waking on time for school the next morning but decided to set multiple alarms on his phone just in case, not wanting to turn up late to school again and raise too much unwanted attention.

Izaya had just placed his phone on the bedside table, let the illumination of the screen flicker into darkness, when the buzz of an incoming message vibrated off of the wooden surface it currently sat. It made Izaya jerk under the covers, the sound intrusive to his slow drift into sleep. He considered neglecting the attempt at communication but resisted, if only because he knew his unsated curiosity would keep him up all night.

Izaya picked the phone up off of the table and brought it down closer to his face, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light that came with unlocking the device. He became unpleasantly surprised to find that he had received a message from Shizu-chan, unaware the blonde even had his number. The last thing he wanted to have to think about was Shizuo and his confusing, frustrating acts of misguided kindness.

[3:56] Shizu-chan: Hey, It’s Shizuo. Since we’re doing the music assignment together, message me if you have any ideas for the song.

Izaya sighed at the seemingly unnecessary pause in his search for rest. Couldn’t he have told him that tomorrow? He started typing out a reply to ask just that, along with questioning where Shizuo had gained access to his number in the first place. He held his thumb against the backspace symbol, erasing the contents of his message; he didn’t need to ask, he had a feeling he knew who Shizuo had requested it from. Before he had a chance to recompose his message, another text from Shizuo vibrated itself into existence.

[3:58] Shizu-chan: Shinra gave me your number, by the way. I hope that’s okay.

[3:58] Shizu-chan: What are you up to?

Izaya had honestly thought as much. He wanted to reply with something witty and sarcastic, maybe a quip about Shizuo being a creep for stalking him but he decided against it, thinking it would be unnecessary and a little hypocritical.

[4:00] Izaya: Yeah, that’s fine. I’m in bed, trying to sleep. Why?

Izaya settled for honesty instead, feeling it came to him a little easier than the petty bickering he would have liked to offer.

[4:00] Shizu-chan: A little early for that isn’t it? And I was just wondering.

‘Just wondering’? Was that really a pressing enough excuse to start a conversation with your worst enemy? Izaya felt confusion muddle his already exhausted mind. He’d go through the effort of humouring Shizuo with the trivial weight of casual conversation anyway. He was curious.

[4:02] Izaya: No time like the present. What are you doing?

[4:02] Shizu-chan: I guess. I’m still walking home. Do you want me to let you go to sleep?

The reply was almost immediate, giving Izaya the visual tell of how completely focused Shizuo must have been on the phone in his hand; the pass of people and his surroundings as he walked a mere blur for the attentive gaze he lay over the thread of Izaya and his own messages. It made him feel kind warm; Izaya pulled the covers down and off of his arms, letting the winter air chill him back to normality.

[4:05] Izaya: No, its okay.

[4:05] Shizu-chan: Okay. So, how are you?

Izaya almost laughed out loud, though as it was his exhausted body only managed a sharp huff of air. This was so ridiculous it almost wasn’t funny. Almost.

I don’t know, Shizu-chan. My life feels like it’s falling apart and I’ve got no one to turn to because I’ve spent the majority of it pushing everyone away. It also doesn’t help that everytime you try to be nice to me it feels like you're ripping out my insides and stomping on them.

Except that wasn’t true, he tried to tell himself. Despite being an absolute prick, he still had people that cared about him for some reason. Shinra had made that obvious enough. So had his sisters, though he wasn’t sure that really counted seeing as they were stuck with him. Hell, even Shizu-chan, who hated him most was asking how he was! Granted, he was sure the blonde’s motivation for doing so came more from the stubborn will to be a ‘good’ person and less from actually giving a shit about Izaya’s wellbeing. But it was still surreal and left him feeling a lot less bitter than he thought he deserved.

Izaya closed his eyes. If nothing else the idea of Shizuo fumbling awkwardly over casual conversation and offhand concern left Izaya with a stretch at his lips. He could picture the idiot now: flush faced, hand rubbing the back of his neck in nervous habit. Maybe he even stumbled over his feet a little in the effort of coming up with something worthy of a response from Izaya.

He had a sudden pang of regret at having taken the pills so prematurely. He felt his eyelids gain weight with each passing moment; it was getting harder to concentrate on typing out a response. Of course, now that he wanted to be awake, was struggling to stay so, his body would pull him in the opposite direction. It was frustrating and left him with the sting of anxiety; that Shizuo would mistake his unresponsiveness for something shallow and insensitive, rather than the unconsciousness it was. It was a laughable thing to have plague his thoughts and in the end what left the grip of his hand slack at his pillow. The phone slipped under the covers around the same time Izaya’s mind slipped out of reality, the screen lighting up with one final message before turning dark again; the colored blink of the notification light and the afternoon sun spilling in from under the curtains the only illumination remaining.

[4:23] Shizu-chan: Goodnight Izaya.

Chapter Text

Izaya woke slowly. Unlike yesterday’s sharp awakening, he drifted out of sleep at an unhurried pace, slipping in and out of consciousness with each blurry blink of his eyes; his body left boneless and heavy against the sheets. The little light that seeped in from under and around the dark curtains hanging over the windows felt warmer and more radiant against Izaya’s pale, uncovered thigh than he thought it should have in the early hours of the morning. At first he thought it was still the late afternoon sun he was watching bleed into the room, that he’d fallen asleep only to wake a number of minutes later. But that was unlikely when there hadn’t been anything to forcibly pull him from rest, at least not that he could currently discern.

He half heartedly fumbled over the bedside table for the shape of his phone, only pushing himself up into a sitting position when his hand came back empty. The events that took place before Izaya fell asleep were slowly coming back to the forefront of his mind and he searched the covers of his bed instead, finding his phone buried under the warm weight of them. The screen was blank and unresponsive, having depleted its battery over the course of the night. After he’d plugged it into a power source, the phone took 30 seconds or so to power itself back into existence. One reluctant gaze at the dim lit numbers emanating from the screen and Izaya found himself forcibly holding back a groan of anguish; he was helpless against the involuntary whimper that slipped from his lips instead. He’d overslept by more than he thought possible considering the consecutive hours of rest he had under his belt, and his multiple alarms had proved useless when his phone had been as dead to the world as Izaya himself.

He was distantly grateful for that, anxious over the thought of having slept through them regardless and perhaps drawn the irritated attention of his father through the door and into his room. Izaya glanced at the empty pill container still sat atop his bedside table, thankful that hadn’t been the case else he not of woken up in such a pleasant manner. He frowned distastefully at the thought, grabbing the bottle after stepping out of bed and shoving it deep inside the confines of his school bag as the closest place to successfully hide it.

The distance from his bedroom to the bathroom was a short one and Izaya spared no time in crossing the stretch of hardwood floor beneath him, eager to spend as little time as possible in the open space of his house. Avoidance was a strategy, and he was damn well good at it. If he had to spend the rest of his life avoiding the presence of his father then so be it, at least he’d be rewarded the gift of minimal interaction with the man.

Izaya’s feet met cold tiles and the bathroom door pressed closed behind him. He silently thanked no one in particular for the lock that was still physically attached to the heavy expanse of wood; twisting it over and purging a good chunk of his anxiety in the process. He’d need to find someone a little more reliable than Shinra for his next dose of chemical sleep, someone that gave answers without asking questions. He thought about his possible sources whilst stepping into the shower and liberating his body of the wintry chill the late morning air still offered, spending more time under the spray of hot water than he should be considering his increasing lack of time to spare.

It was while he was wrapped in the fluffy while towel left by the shower, drying himself off in front of the cabinet mirror overhead the sink that the memory came to him. It was only a year or so old but blurry all the same. Mairu had just started school — she’d been trouble since birth, that much Izaya knew; her boisterous personality and overly active imagination rivalling that of most children her age. But the teachers and concerned parents of the public institution were less than understanding and were diagnosing her with all sorts of neurological disorders before she’d even had the chance to step into a doctor’s office. The doctors weren’t much more help in Izaya’s opinion. Stuttering over the inconsistent results in her psychological evaluation, they eventually settled on the label of ADHD to stick to her forehead. Izaya’s mother begrudgingly accepted the bottle of pills forced upon her and in turn forced them upon Mairu, for a time. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping, the drugs were taking a part of her that Izaya thought made her who she was, so Kyouko made the decision to stuff the bottle far back on the highest shelf in the bathroom cabinet and moved schools for good measure. Everyone was all the better for it and both of the girl’s were happy where they were. Izaya never felt the need to look back at the ordeal, had let the majority of it slip from his mind until now. He glanced at himself in the mirror, considered stapling the weight of his eyelids open and using makeup to cover the fading bruises still marring his face. He abandoned the idea and opened the bathroom cabinet instead.

For a second he had the fleeting fear that his mother had actually thrown the bottle away, that it now sat decomposing at the bottom of a land fill; but a couple more seconds or so of rearranging the items on the shelf and the familiar plastic yellow container came into view. His eyes raked over the white label: Adderall. 10mg. Expiry date….

Well these sorts of medications tend to last a lot longer than their expiry date, right?

Izaya closed the cabinet and tried to avoid catching his reflection again in the mirror. He suddenly wished he’d had the forethought to bring clothes into the bathroom rather than having to venture out into the open with only the thin weight of a towel wrapped around his hips. He covered the distance back to his room with slightly more speed than when he had left it, letting the door slip shut behind him as quietly as possible. The small bottle of pills met the same fate as the last: the bottom of his school bag, hidden amongst papers and books. He’d leave them out of his own reach for now; he’d only take them if he had to, he promised himself. After shedding the towel wrapped around his body, Izaya reclaimed the pieces of his school uniform he so unceremoniously dropped to the ground last night. The shirt was a little creased but he slipped it over his shoulders anyway, deeming it worthy of wear for at least another day.

Izaya had yet to hear any sound born from his father’s presence since he’d awoken, but the car still idle in the driveway outside the house left the matter of his whereabouts relatively obvious. He left his room on quiet feet and pulled the door shut softly behind him. He stalled in descending the stairs, giving himself some time to consider whether the burn of hunger and the lure of coffee was worth venturing into the kitchen and inevitably running into his father. By the time he’d reached the bottom of the stairs and caught a glimpse of Shirou’s dark hair bowed over the newspaper and sat at the dining table, he’d come to the decision that it was not in fact worth the interaction. He struggled to keep his body at the casual pace of a walk over the distance laid out between the staircase and the front door; the urge to break into a sprint one he felt tremble in the back of his thighs.

Izaya was grateful he’d had the opportunity to tie his shoes to his feet in the privacy of his bedroom that morning rather than at the entrance of the house, the foresight saving him at least fifteen or so seconds and leaving him with no obstacles on his way out the door beside the door itself. He was about halfway across the stretch of space when he saw movement in his peripheral vision, the lift of a head and the shift of attention over his hurried form; but it was the scrape of a wooden chair that really spurred him into action, that left him abandoning his stilted stride for the sake of making it out the door before Shirou could call him back with some feathery excuse of wrongdoing. Izaya let his feet carry him forward as fast as they could possibly manage, the spontaneous and unrestrained sprint leaving him on the other side of the door in what felt like less than a second. The last thing he saw before closing it behind him was the furrowed brows of his father, pushing himself out of his seat at the table and making to move around it as if to take after Izaya with the same haste he had just shown in escaping the house; it left Izaya’s heart stuck high in his throat, or low in his stomach, he wasn’t quite sure which.

He closed the door and — without another moment of hesitation — turned on his heel and sprinted down the steps marking the entrance to the house, skipping the last few and almost tripping over them in the process. Izaya didn’t look back. He kept to his sprint out of the yard and far beyond that too, his still drowsy mind and lethargic limbs leaving him to trip and stumble over his own two feet every so often. It was only once he’d rounded the corner at the end of his street that he slowed to a jog and then a walk, panting hot air into the space around him. He doubted even Shirou would venture so far out of the house and into the open just to drag Izaya back home by the hair on his head. One hand still gripping the strap of his school bag, Izaya used the other to fish his phone out of its confines, taking a moment to check how much time had past since he’d last glanced at the screen upon getting out of bed. He was immediately distracted by the barrage of unanswered messages and missed calls from Shinra that took up most of the space on the display of his phone. Shit, he inwardly cursed. This was what happened when you left your phone on silent for too long a time.

[8:49] Shinra: Are you almost here?

[8:54] Shinra: The bus will be leaving soon Izaya D:

[8:58] Shinra: Where are you?? Did you forget we have an excursion today?? You better not be asleep! The bus is going Izaya!!!

“For fuck sake.” Izaya muttered, dropping the phone back in his bag and willing his legs to break into a sprint once more. He’d make it, he had to; there was no way he was going to abandon the day now and return home to his own personal hell.

…………………………………..

Shizuo’s morning has been less than reassuring.

He’d tossed and turned all night, abstract nightmares and personal paranoia twisting together to leave him tangled in his sheets and sweating up a storm. He had awoken feeling more exhausted than when he’d fell asleep, the only thing stirring him from his restless slumber being the dull clanging of pots and pans and the warm sun glaring through his uncovered window. He would have stayed there too, let himself drift back into that feverish rest if it wasn’t for the disconcerting revelation that the sun shone high in the sky and he had yet to be woken up by his alarm or his parents either one.

He pushed himself up from the mattress and twisted to look over his bare shoulder at the alarm clock sat by the bedside table. His stomach lurched.

“Muuuuuuum!” Shizuo yelled in the general direction of his open bedroom door, stumbling as he stepped out of bed with the sheets still caught around one foot. The clashing of kitchenware stopped abruptly; the sound of soft footfalls coming up the stairs to replace it.

“Yes dear?” Shizuo’s mother appeared in the doorway, a look of concern plastered over her features.

Shizuo yanked open the draw of his dresser, nearly pulling the entire weight of it off of its hinges in the process. “Why didn’t you wake me?!” He complained, his tone laced with frustrated exasperation. His bedroom door had been wide open, she must have seen his limp body still sprawled over the sheets despite the lateness of the morning.

“You looked sick, I thought it’d be best if you stayed home for the day.” Shizuo’s mother spoke softy, her face twisting into obvious guilt.

Shizuo shook his head violently. “I’m fine.” The displaced draw met the dresser again and Shizuo threw the items of clothing he’d collected from it onto his unmade bed. “Really, I’m okay.” He amended when his mothers face still held to that dubious concern. “I just had a rough sleep.” He breathed.

“Alright.” She sighed, a small smile replacing her frown. “I’ll go quickly make some lunch for you to take.” Shizuo’s mother cleared the doorway and returned to what sounded like wrestling with the kitchen pots and pans. Shizuo was glad she hadn’t asked why he was suddenly so eager to go to school, pretty sure he almost definitely would have taken the opportunity for a day off at any time in the past; god knows he felt like he needed it. He couldn’t possibly have explained to her the constant chill of paranoia sat just under the surface of his skin; or the butterflies that had made a home deep in his tummy, that caught in his throat every time he tried to take a breath, every time he tried to speak. All in the presence of someone he used to hate so unconditionally it drove him to the brink of murderous insanity.

God, he couldn’t understand it himself. It still left him reeling with confusion and self doubt every fucking time. How could he possibly convince someone else he was still in his right mind when it felt like everything Shizuo had ever known was falling out from under his own two feet and was being replaced with something that left his heart beating too fast and his very existence a little out of place.

He couldn’t get out the front door fast enough, his efforts in leaving the house consistently being stalled by one form of bad luck or another. Be it tripping over his untied shoelaces on his way down the stairs, almost dropping his phone in his full bowl of cereal, or even just the way his hair stuck up in all the wrong places. It felt like he’d woken up into some bizarre dimension where every part of his daily existence was trying to retaliate against him with a minor inconvenience. When his first step out of the house was into a large muddy puddle, Shizuo had the impression that he’d been cursed in his sleep and would spend the rest of the day struggling to avoid some sort of misfortune.

He’d turned down his mother’s offer for a ride into the school, taking the opportunity to release his restless energy by sprinting there instead. It was an uncomfortable feat; his school bag swung from his shoulder on every step, the heavy weight of it thumping against his hip and his thigh. He tried to use it as a distraction from the burden of last night’s nightmares still swimming through his head, the flashing images of hateful smirks and disgusted glares wrapping themselves like a vice around his throat. Scathing insults and the crunch of bone breaking still rang clear in his head.

It was making him feel sick.

He swallowed down the impending nausea and slowed his strides as the school gates finally came into view. It wasn’t until he’d made it halfway up the pathway that Shizuo spotted a hunched over figure sitting at the bottom of the steps leading up to the institution. Izaya had his knees tucked tight to his chest and his head resting atop them, his forearms wrapped around the top of his head, concealing his face from view but Shizuo could recognise him just from the dark curtain of hair falling over his forearm alone. Izaya didn’t so much as twitch a muscle as he came closer, Shizuo would have thought he’d fallen asleep there if it wasn’t for the earphones he could see peaking out from the dark of his hair.

Shizuo didn’t hesitate when he moved his foot to kick a little too forcefully against Izaya’s own, but the way Izaya flinched at the contact made him feel like he should have. His head came up from beneath the protective barrier he’d made of his arms and tired eyes locked onto his own.

“Shizu-chan.” Izaya spoke quietly, surprise softening his features. It made him look more delicate than Shizuo thought possible, he had to look away.

“What are you doing?” Shizuo tried to sound indifferent but it was difficult when he was also making the effort too not come off too gruff.

Izaya pulled the headphones from his ears and sighed like speaking was more effort than it was really worth. “I missed the bus for my excursion” he mumbled. “Shinra and Dota-chin are gone and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh.” Shizuo offered unhelpfully. He had only the vaguest memory of Shinra mentioning that the day before. He couldn’t believe he ran to school after being offered the day off when he could have potentially spent the entire school day alone. Granted, Izaya’s company probably wasn’t much better than that, he told himself, but at least that iron grip on his heart had eased a little. Seeing Izaya now, his eyes glazed with a tired kind of melancholy, Shizuo still felt relieved, because at least it wasn’t the absolute hate he was so used to seeing. At least Shizuo wasn’t hurting others and then hurting himself.

“Why are you so late?” Izaya’s voice brought Shizuo’s attention back down to the raven haired boy, head in his hand, elbow resting on his knee and a bored look plastered over his face.

Shizuo frowned and looked away again. “Slept through my alarm.”

Izaya huffed a laugh that had the blonde’s eyebrows twitching down on frustration. He kept his eyes trained on the awkward shuffle of his feet over the pathway. “Want to come to my class?” When he received no response, he begrudgingly lifted his gaze to Izaya’s own. He looked confused, his stare searching for something in Shizuo’s expression.

“Okay.” He suddenly responded, standing up from his spot against the stairs. “What do you have?” Izaya started to move up the steps, only looking back over his shoulder when the blonde left his question unanswered for too long a time. Shizuo resisted the urge to tell him to turn back around, that he was going to trip and fall without vision as his aid.

“Home ec, I think.” Shizuo started up the stairs and glanced at the watch over his wrist; he’d already missed his first class for the morning and the next would be just starting to let students filter in. Izaya hummed acknowledgement but didn’t say anything else. Shizuo huffed a breath of relief when he finally turned back around to focus on the action of his feet moving up and over the stairs. Once inside, Shizuo took the lead in navigating the hallways for the classroom he’d usually be in at the present time. The door was still open when he reached it, making it easy enough for himself and Izaya to slip in amongst the other students still settling into their seats. It was a tight squeeze, the two chairs barely fit into the small space under the desk, it left their elbows touching every moment or so and their shoulders barely a breath apart.

“Alright, listen up. Today’s recipe is fairly straight forward and self directed. You’ll be going off into small groups and completing it at your own pace. I’ve left the details on the paper at each of your benches and on the board.” The teacher spoke gesturing to the rows of impromptu kitchen benches ahead of her and then at the white board behind her, filled with what Shizuo thought looked like unintelligible scribble. Cooking had never been a strong suite of his, it was too fickle, too many things to mess up in too short a time. He usually found himself tagging along the outskirts of whatever group deemed him tolerable enough to join, simply observing the procedure rather than taking any part in it. But with the way people were avoiding him now, all subtlety gone in their effort to be as far away as possible from Shizuo and his extra company made him think that this time he wouldn’t be so welcome.

“Come on.” He sighed, pushing out from his seat at the table. Most of the kitchen benches by the back of the classroom were already becoming occupied by the other students, groups of friends gathering there excited at the prospect of cooking together. Shizuo spotted a vacant bench closer to the front and made his way there, taking the time to quickly glance over his shoulder and see if Izaya was following him. He was, and so were the eyes of nearly everybody in the classroom; for all their effort in avoiding him, they seemed to have no problem tracing his every movement with wide eyes and uncertain whispers. He tried to ignore them and focus on the only person that wasn’t currently making him feel like an alien. Izaya came to stand beside him and stare at the paper over their bench with a blank kind of helplessness.

“Have you cooked before?” He asked.

“Of course I have.” Izaya answered, gracing Shizuo with the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen on the other’s face. “But nothing this complicated.” He amended, squinting at the convoluted procedure for creating their dish.

“Lemon Meringue Pie.” Shizuo spoke slowly in an attempt to correctly pronounce the English words typed onto the paper. “Never heard of it.”

“I think it’s a French dish, or maybe Swiss.” Izaya hummed. “You go collect the ingredients and I’ll start getting the bowls out.” He handed the paper to Shizuo who stifled a growl at the offhand demand. He had a little trouble carrying everything at once but eventually placed the pile of various ingredients onto the counter without having dropped or broken anything.

“Okay.” Izaya sounded confident, easing Shizuo’s own anxiety even just the smallest bit. “It says we have to make the base first.” He placed a large metal bowl in front of the blonde. “You can sift the flour and icing sugar into there.” Shizuo started to unwrap the packet of flour and pour it into the sifter. “Oh, and make sure you follow the measurements.” He added after he had turned away from Shizuo to pull a knife from the block of wood sat atop the bench. Shizuo immediately paused in his actions to look down at the indiscernible amount of flour he’d just lumped into the sifter.

“I know that.” He mumbled, quickly abandoning the sifter and bag to search for a measured cup in the draws under the counter. He poured the flour back into the bag before he thought Izaya had noticed his careless mistake and then repeated the steps with an accurate measurement instead. Izaya glanced back at him just as Shizuo had poured the correct amount into the sifter, he kept his eyes trained on the flour falling into the bowl like powdery snow. Once he’d finished that, Izaya stepped closer to drop a handful of butter he’d cut into squares over the flour and sugar.

“Now you have to rub the butter into the flour and sugar with your hands until it resembles that of fine breadcrumbs.” Izaya spoke, reading off of the sheet of paper they’d left in the middle of the bench. “Who knew your monstrous strength might come in handy.” He chirped. “Just make sure you wash your hands first, who knows where your beastly appendages have been.”

Uh oh. Shizuo grimaced, his hands already settled in the bowl, the butter and flour wet between his fingers. “I already have.” He lied, resuming his efforts in mixing the ingredients together. It was too late now, Izaya would make him start all over again if he found out.

“Watch out.”

Shizuo moved his head back just in time to avoid being splashed by the cup of water Izaya decided to unceremoniously dump into the bowl. “Oops.” The other boy drawled when the majority of it landed to wet against the front of the blonde’s school shirt anyway. Shizuo growled and an unapologetic grin split across the other’s face. “Mix that in with the rest of it.”

“Ugh.” Shizuo grimaced at the feeling of the sticky paste now forming under his fingers. It wasn’t long before the mixture morphed into a dough that he was then able to take out of the bowl and spread over the counter. It was while he was rolling the dough out, using long strokes to press it into flat obedience, and without snapping the pin in half, that he noticed the white powder dusting some of Izaya’s features. It was smudged down the bridge of his nose and along the side of one of his cheeks, a stark contrast to the dark bruises still fading there. How the hell did you manage that, huh? You weren’t even using the flour. “Heh.” Shizuo huffed a laugh to himself and Izaya, observant as ever, shifted his attention so quickly it was if he’d been watching Shizuo the entire time.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, a frown on his face. The serious curve of his mouth and the pinch in his brows only made him look that much more ridiculous in Shizuo’s opinion. He made little effort to hide the amused grin he could feel stretching over his lips.

“You have flour on your face.” He laughed, gesturing to his own nose. Shizuo watched Izaya’s own expression contort in embarrassment before he lifted his hands to violently rub over his face. It only made Shizuo laugh harder, forcing him to pause in his efforts to smooth the dough out any further.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” Izaya sneered, his hands flying to the paper bag of flour still open over the bench. His movements were too fast for Shizuo to make any sense of until after Izaya had pulled out an entire handful of flour and had it aimed at his head like a snowball; and by then, with Shizuo’a hands still caught in the dough, it was much too late.

The impact was a little underwhelming; considering how much effort Izaya put into the motion of moving his arm away from his body, but it was a shock all the same. The flour dispersed in the air, it’s tendency to not be very aerodynamic only meaning it managed to cover every inch of Shizuo’s upper body and face. His mouth still hung slightly agape in the remaining tendrils of shock and, when he closed it, he could taste the dry, flavourless powder over his tongue.

Izaya’s expression changed so quickly Shizuo barely had the attention to keep track of it. First, his nasty smirk blew wide open on surprise, evidently having misjudged the outcome of his actions. After the initial shock had worn off, his features scrunched up on utter amusement, the laughter rolling out of him in waves.

It felt like he’d taken a leaf from Shizuo’s book, overreacting to the smallest thing and then wreaking havoc in tenfold. Shizuo tried to be angry, he really did, but the situation was so incredibly absurd that he found his body flushing hot on amusement rather than anger. He’d never seen Izaya like that before; face devoid of his usual snide amusement and having been replaced with something so much more genuine.

“Y-You-” Izaya cut himself off, the laughter choking his words into a wheeze. “You look so-” Another deep breath. “Shizu-chan looks so stupid!”

“Oh yeah?” Shizuo growled, his lips quirking up on amusement. He drew his hands back from the dough and slowly started to make his way towards Izaya, his added height letting him loom over the other boy.

“Uwah, scary.” Izaya drawled, his tone still heavy with mirth. It only lasted a second or so. When Shizuo kept stalking towards him, like a predator closing in on its prey, Izaya’s mouth slipped down into a frown, his eyes darting out to assess the possible escape routes around him. “What are you doing?” He asked wearily.

“Come-“ Shizuo growled, moving his arms out and in front of him. For a moment he thought he saw something close to fear flicker across the other’s eyes; it almost made him hesitate. “Here!” He finally yelled, lunging forward with outstretched arms and open hands to grab at Izaya in front of him. He half expected to close in on air, for his hands to come back empty as they so often have in his efforts to capture the other. But that wasn’t the case this time, for whatever the reason. Izaya may have let himself go still under the other’s grasp, but Shizuo liked to think that he had just happened to catch Izaya off-guard. His shoulder’s felt small and fragile under his hands so he tried his best to keep from crushing them under his grip, instead bringing them forward until Izaya’s chest was flush with his own and Shizuo was able to duck his head into the crook of Izaya’s neck.

Izaya squeaked at the contact. “What do you think you’re doing you single celled protozoan!?” He yelled, fists clenched in the front of the blonde’s school shirt and pushing at his chest. Shizuo didn’t budge, continuing in his effort to cover the top half of Izaya’s body in just as much flour as what covered his own. He shook his head back and forth, rubbing the flour that covered his face into the shoulders of Izaya’s school jacket and the already pale skin of his neck. “S-Stop.” He stuttered, short involuntary huffs of laughter making his voice falter.

Huh.

Shizuo pressed his cheek a little harder into the side of the other’s neck and Izaya flinched, his entire body cringing and squirming in its effort to get away from that touch.

So that’s it.

The stuttering breaths and huffs of laughter soon became uncontrollable, until Izaya’s body was practically convulsing with giggles and squeals. His arms turned to jelly at Shizuo’s chest until he barely felt the effort of the other pushing against him at all.

He’s ticklish.

When it felt like revenge had been thoroughly served and Izaya was squirming so much Shizuo sensed he may have been in danger of reaping a knee to a more delicate part of his body — on purpose or not — he eased his grip on the other’s shoulders and drew back from his neck. Izaya took the opportunity to shove harshly against Shizuo’s retreating body, forcing him to stumble back a couple of steps before falling to land on his bum.

“You stupid, idiotic protozoan!” He panted, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Your ticklish.” Shizuo murmured from his spot on the ground, eyes wide and fixed on the pinch in the other’s brows.

“I am not.” He huffed, petulant and dour, his reddened cheeks dusted with flour.

Shizuo couldn’t help it, a grin was stretching his mouth and Izaya’s was twisting up from a frown. A few breaths of laugher escaped from his lips and Izaya’s followed suite, the absolute ridiculousness of their current situation and appearance demanding contagious amusement against their will. Izaya had abandoned his scathing glare and frustration for unabashed hilarity, the skin around his bright eyes crinkling at the sides and his lips pulled taught over pearly teeth. He looked-

Shizuo’s laughter stuttered to a stop. Some invisible wave of emotion washed over and under and around his very being, it left him a little dizzy. Breath hitching in the back of his throat, he unconsciously lifted a hand to clutch at his heart; something hurt. It felt like being back on that roller coaster. Something was changing inside him; he wasn’t sure what and he wasn’t sure how, but for the very first time since he was a child, he felt scared; unsure as to whether he should be fighting it or simply giving in to it’s grasp on his psyche.

Shizuo suddenly became very aware of his surroundings, only now taking the chance to look up and out from the little bubble of a world he’d let himself be drawn into.

The stares made his stomach drop. People had their mouths agape, girls were whispering in groups, wide eyed and weary; even the teacher looked like she’d seen a monster. Maybe she had.

Izaya wasn’t looking at them, he’d wet a dishcloth under running water and had begun the process of wiping the flour from his face. Shizuo pushed himself up off the floor, and made an effort to dust off the white powder still covering the front of his school shirt, letting it flutter to the ground and cover the tips of his school shoes instead.

“Shizu-chan.” He looked up to find Izaya closer than he’d anticipated, he had to make a conscious effort not to flinch away from the other’s outstretched hand clutching the rag. Shizuo lifted his own hand to take the offered object but Izaya continued moving until the cold, wet cloth was pressed against the blonde’s cheek. Shizuo did flinch at that, if only a little, but Izaya smirked all the same, beginning to draw the cloth along his face and wipe away the flour that still covered it. He wasn’t smirking at the blonde anymore, his attention entirely focused on the act of his hand moving over the other’s face, bringing the cloth down his cheeks, along the bridge of his nose and across the red of his lips. Shizuo studied Izaya’s expression with as much attention as the other held towards himself, getting lost in the way his eyebrows drew together on concentration and the way his lips formed the slightest pout. He could remember the feel of those shoulder under his hands, the warmth of that neck under his lips, the way he shivered at the contact like Shizuo’s body was colder than ice, when he should have been trembling in fear that Shizuo might squeeze too hard and crush his shoulders in his grip.

Fuck, what is wrong with me?

It was pathetic, the things he felt weren’t real. He’d been deprived of human contact for so long — and with good reasons too — that his body was convincing him that brief interaction was something he needed, something he deserved. He was a creep for even entertaining the idea, if only Izaya could hear the thoughts he couldn’t control; he’d be sick, they all would.

Shizuo didn’t bother looking up at their possible audience now. Thinking about what everyone is thinking of him; it makes him want to cry.

“Done.” Izaya drew back from the other’s space all too soon and began to ring the cloth under the tap again. Shizuo brought his hands to his face to feel for any remaining flour. Its not that he didn’t trust Izaya, it was just that, well, he didn’t trust Izaya. He turned to lift the saucepan placed over the bench by the handle and bring it up to his face. He gazed into it’s especially shiny surface and watched his distorted expression stare back at him, forcing himself to look the unfamiliar reflection in the eye before he has to look away.

By the time they got the dough spread out in a dish and under the heat of the oven, Shizuo could tell that they were far behind, everyone already having completed that task and half of the next. He put the settings up a little higher, hoping it might speed up the cooking process and leave them retrieving their base from the oven at the same time as everyone else. Izaya had already gone to the effort of opening the rest of their ingredients and measuring out the correct portions for each, ready to pile them into the saucepan once it was hot enough. Shizuo decided to assist by readying that heat, turning the dial over until gas caught light and a flame erupted from the small hole in the stove. He picked up the saucepan and placed it over the flame, taking his time in balancing it over the metal ring surrounding the blaze of fire and only bringing his hand back to his side once the heat of it had become uncomfortable against his fingers.

He realised he may have taken too long when the heat remained caught in his hand despite its position far away from the gas lit flame. He ignored the sensation, it wasn’t the first time he’d burnt himself on something and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He was just entertaining the idea of using an ice pack to prevent it from blistering when Izaya dropped the cup of sugar he had been holding with a yell.

“Shizu-chan!” Izaya’s eyes were wide on shock and locked onto Shizuo’s wrist; where the cuff of his shirtsleeve had caught light on the stove and was slowly burning away. Shizuo looked down at the flames licking his hand, burning brighter and more violent with each passing second. He could only stare at it in shock, could only watch the fire travel the slightest bit higher up his sleeve. In the end, Izaya had to take action before Shizuo had even finished thinking about how he could have possibly made the mistake of assuming a slight burn was just that, rather than the actuality of his school attire bursting into flames. Izaya grabbed his burning wrist in hand and pulled it under the running water of the tap, smothering the fire and drenching his entire sleeve in the process. The heat dissipated and Shizuo was left with cold relief. “Jesus, what kind of an idiot catches himself on fire just from lighting the stove?” Izaya muttered.

“I didn’t realise.” He mumbled, eyeing the blackened edge of his sleeve and feeling a little lost in the world.

“It must take a real special kind of stupid to not even notice you’re on fire.” Izaya sneered.

Shizuo didn’t bother refuting that, it was pretty stupid. He left his wrist under the water long after the flames went out, just for an excuse to focus on something that didn’t require looking up to see the stares of his classmates. Not that it mattered all that much, he could still feel them. He tried to take deep breaths and focus on the cool water against his burning hand and wrist, pushing away the urge to snap under the attention of so many people. It was on his second inhale that he caught the scent of something in his nose.

“Does something smell like it’s burning?” Shizuo turned to Izaya and asked, nose in the air, face full of confusion.

Izaya’s laugh was a little too deriding. “Are you sure its not still just the skin on your hand, or what’s left of your shirt? He asked incredulously.

Shizuo growled. “No, it’s something else.” He grit out from between clenched teeth.

Izaya finally looked up from what he’d busied himself with on the bench. Shizuo watched his unimpressed expression fall away into wide eyed concern at the cloud of smoke emanating from behind the blonde’s back. Shizuo turned around as best he could with his hand still stuck in the sink and watched grey smoke drift out from the cracks in the oven. Uh Oh, he thought to himself. That may or may not have been my fault.

Izaya rushed over to the oven and pulled at the handle. Grey smoke cascaded out of the open door and into the room, burning Shizuo’s eyes and itching his throat.

“Why was the oven on so high?!” He heard Izaya shriek amidst the dark smoke. He watched the dark haired boy draw the tray out of the oven faster than he could offer protest to the action, flinching when Izaya dropped it barely a second later, cursing almost as loud as the tray crashed to the ground.

“FUCK!” Izaya swore, abandoning the mess of their burning, broken dish on the floor to rush over to the sink instead. He shoved his hands under the running water, pushing the blonde’s aside.

“Now who’s the idiot.” Shizuo mumbled.

“I don’t know, who put the oven on the wrong setting, hmm?” Izaya seethed, murderous intent and searing pain clear in the eyes that were burning holes into Shizuo quicker than the flame that had burnt through his school shirt.

Shizuo opened his mouth to defend himself but was cut off by the sudden sound of the smoke alarm above them bursting into life. The sharp beeping was like a knife to the back of his head, it was unbearable. He pulled his hand back from the sink and glared at the object trapped to the roof above them, only hesitating for a moment before deciding to spring off of his two feet and place a well aimed fist to the centre of the circular object. His knuckles met plastic and it crumbled and cracked under their weight like it wasn’t plastic at all. Sparks flew from the now disconnected wires and the beeping was cut off to a stop before Shizuo’s feet were back on the ground.

If anyone hadn’t been looking in their direction before, they certainly were now. Shizuo gazed at the teacher now stalking towards them — livid with fury and heels clicking against the floor with each angry step — with a detached kind of acceptance, he was honestly surprised it had taken this long for her to confront them.

“That’s it!” She yelled, frustration making her look manic. “Get out!” She thundered, pointing at the open door behind her. “Get out!”

Shizuo watched Izaya hesitate in moving his still burning hands from under the water, before turning the tap off and walking past the blonde and out the door. Shizuo followed closely behind, forcing his gaze on his shoes until he’d made it out of the classroom. Izaya sat down on the hallway floor just outside the door with his back resting against the wall. Shizuo made to do the same, keeping his legs stretched out in front of him. Izaya had his wrists resting on his thighs and the trembling weight of his hands held in the air, making an obvious effort to avoid letting them touch anything close by.

“How are your hands?” Shizuo asked, pointedly looking at the bright red patches blooming under Izaya’s fingertips.

“Hurting.” He replied simply. “What about yours?”

Shizuo looked back down at his own arm and the irritated skin over his wrist and hand. “Alright. Probably not as bad as yours.”

Izaya huffed a laugh and Shizuo repressed the urge to tell him that this was not the time to be laughing. “Isn’t that usually the case?”

Shizuo frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked just as a shadow passed over the ground by his feet and the teacher for their class walked out of the door and into the hallway. Shizuo looked up at the same time she looked down to find her two students sat on the floor, cradling their burning limbs. She stretched an arm out in front of each of them, an icepack grasped in each hand. Izaya took his without hesitating, gripping it firmly between his fingers. Shizuo accepted his own and placed it over the skin of his right wrist and hand. “Thanks.” He offered.

The teacher smiled, tucking her mousey brown hair behind one ear. “Today has been strange.” She sighed. “Two students infamous for tearing each other to shreds, one of which I’m pretty sure isn’t even in this class, are cooperating enough to bake a dish together, even if they are still causing chaos.”

Shizuo flushed and lowered his head. “We’re sorry.” He mumbled.

“I know.” She hummed. “Don’t worry about it.” When Shizuo looked back up, she was smiling. “I’m glad you’ve found someone to work with, just try not to wreak so much havoc in the classroom.”

She laughed and Shizuo found himself smiling, her positive energy contagious. “I’ll try.” He insisted, she was nice when she wasn’t yelling at him.

“Now get back in there finish the recipe.” She chirped, pointing her thumb back inside the door.

“Yes, Miss.” Shizuo replied, watching her turn to venture into the classroom and watch over other unruly teenagers.

“Oh, and make sure you clean up your mess.” She added before disappearing back inside. Shizuo used his uninjured hand for support in pushing up from the ground. He looked down at Izaya who had eyes fixed on the icepack in his lap.

“Hey.” He offered in an attempt to gather the other’s attention. Izaya looked up and Shizuo held his free hand out to the other. Izaya glanced between Shizuo’s outstretched palm and his own still clasped around the ice pack, wrestling with some internal decision, before giving up and reaching up with one of his own hands. Shizuo grasped his wrist, taking care to pull him to his feet without touching his still burning skin.

Shizuo made a pointed effort to discourage the stares on his way back into the room, all it had taken was a stern glare in the general direction of onlookers to send them redirecting their attention elsewhere. Back at their bench the smoke had cleared and Shizuo noted that all of the windows had been opened in the classroom. He watched Izaya resume his previous efforts in mixing ingredients into the saucepan that had been left off the heat. Shizuo decided to steer clear of that aspect of the recipe and instead began the arduous task of collecting the broken pieces of their pastry base off of the floor and putting them back together in the pan. The damage was minimal, the dough having only split in a couple of places that left it easy to rearrange. It was more than a miracle that it hadn’t been obliterated beyond repair.

They fumbled through the rest of the process, lagging behind the other students. Shizuo may or may not have dropped a broken egg into the meringue mix and another on the floor, after which Izaya banned him from doing anything that required being delicate. Instead, he left Shizuo the more physically demanding work, anything that needed the use of ‘monster hands’ as he had put it. That left Shizuo whipping meringue and Izaya plucking stray pieces of eggshell from the mix until they were able to call it quits and chuck the finished product back in the oven. Shizuo made sure to set the oven on the right temperature this time — regardless of how far they were lagging behind the others — and set to cleaning their dishes instead.

By the time the meringue had turned golden and the oven was switched off, everyone else had just started to cut out slices of their pie. Shizuo tried not to be caught staring with his mouth watering at the delicious looking deserts. Their own had yet to cool down enough to eat and Shizuo certainly wasn’t ready to burn another part of his body in the tiring and convoluted process that was cooking, so they decided to leave the pie in the freezer while they waited out a painfully long twenty minutes or so.

The cold tray was a relief to Shizuo’s hand when he pulled it from the freezer, his icepack having melted not too long ago. Most of the students had cleared out now, having finished their food and dismissed themselves for an early lunch. It meant that when they had finally plated their dish, they were able to enjoy it in a relatively peaceful classroom.

“Mmm, this is actually pretty good.” Izaya spoke through a mouthful of pie. Shizuo had to agree, despite the charred patches of pastry and uncooked spots among them, it did taste pretty good. Even though their presentation was far beyond sloppy, he thought the taste and the effort they put into it was what really counted.

“Guess what?” Shizuo asked, taking another bite of the pie and grimacing at the crunchy bit of charcoal pastry he’d bitten down on.

“What?” Izaya replied, eyes narrowed on suspicion as he brought his half eaten piece of desert down from his mouth.

“You know when you asked me if I had washed my hands before I mixed the dough?”

“You’re joking.” He admonished, lips drawn down and into a frown of disgust, eyes narrowed even further until Shizuo wondered if he could see at all.

“Nope.” He responded, not at all feeling guilty at having disclosed that particular information.

Izaya sighed, the frustration seeping out of his lungs. “Oh well, I guess I’m now contaminated with monster germs. I wonder what will happen to me, will I grow a second head?” Izaya asked no one in particular, his voice laced with faux wonder. He seemed to have accepted the news rather quickly and continued to take another bite of the pie.

“Hey, you didn’t protest all that much when you were drinking my water yesterday.” Shizuo spoke, rolling his eyes at the other. “Doesn’t that mean you were already contaminated from the start?”

“Tch.” Izaya bristled, ignoring Shizuo in favour of staring out over the remainder of the class still enjoying their creations. “Whatever.”

Shizuo stopped himself from smirking at the brief blush of red over Izaya’s cheeks by stuffing his mouth with another bite of food.

Shizuo loved sugary foods as much as the next person, but only recently he’d found that everything seemed to taste a little sweeter than usual.

Chapter Text

The wind had picked up outside. The cool chill of it whipped through Izaya’s hair and tangled it to knots. He had hoped the fresh burst of air would wake him up a little, that it would be a pleasurable change to the stifling space of the indoor building. But Izaya still felt tired, the drowsiness only increasing throughout the short amount of time he’d been released from sleep, until by the time lunch had come and along with it the inevitability of physical exercise, he had been truly excited to spur his limbs into heat, to run until he felt a little more at home in his own body.

It wasn’t working.

He was cold and shaking, the frostbitten wind creeping into every opening of the sports uniform he’d changed into until he felt he may as well have been naked. They had been waiting for more than a few minutes for their teacher to arrive and coerce them into whatever physical exercises demanded their presence during lunch and would improve their skills within the next handful of days. Izaya was just about to give up, to stalk back towards the locker room with his arms wrapped around himself regardless of Shizuo stood next to him — either entirely resistant to the biting cold of the air around them, or hiding it so well Izaya would be impressed if he could spare the effort — when a slow moving figure came across the field and into view. The teacher stood bundled in warmth, their heavy layers of multiple jackets a stark contrast to the bare legs and arms of his two awaiting students.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys!” The teacher hollered once he’d made it to the edge of the field.

“It’s fine.” Izaya heard Shizuo grit out from between clenched teeth, the danger on his tone a give away to that it was not, in fact, fine.

“Start stretching then.” The teacher suggested, moving to clasp both of his hands around the steaming cup of liquid he’d arrived with. Izaya rolled his eyes and turned away from the very picture of comfort, instead willing the blue tinge away from his arms by flexing and stretching them over his head. Izaya was in the middle of stretching out the back of his thigh in a deep lunge towards to ground when the teacher caught his attention and gestured towards Shizuo. The blonde was sat on the grass, legs sprawled either side of his body and had his arms stretched out in front of himself. The teacher imitated a pushing motion with his hands and Izaya got the idea. He made his way over to the blonde and pressed both palms to the back of his shoulder blades. Shizuo flinched at the unexpected contact, the way he was supposed to, and Izaya pushed down. He could feel the tension in Shizuo’s back unravel once he’d seemed to understand what the other was trying to do. He let Izaya ease his body towards the ground, managing to get far further with the added weight of another person assisting in the motion. Shizuo kept inching closer towards the ground until Izaya had to lean most of his body weight against the other just to see if Shizuo would even notice the change in pressure. Izaya carefully move one knee onto the blonde’s back, then the other, blanking the entirety of his body weight on the other’s shoulders.

“You can push harder, you know.” Came Shizuo’s suggestion from beneath him.

“I’m literally sitting on you.” He replied, punctuating the statement with a small kick of his feet to the bottom half of Shizuo’s back.

“Alright, your turn now.” He mumbled, lifting his torso from the ground with as much effort as if Izaya weighed nothing at all. He slid off the other’s back, legs meeting the ground again with a grace only slightly stilted by the cold still making his joints stiff.

Izaya’s backside met the ground and he tried not to shiver at the cold grass under his bare legs stretched out either side of himself. “Don’t break my back.” He huffed, planting his elbows on the ground in front of him.

“I’ll think about about.” He heard Shizuo mock from over his head; but the pressure on his back felt far from demanding. Shizuo’s hands on his shoulder blades pressed with uncanny gentleness, easing Izaya down to the ground, it was light enough that he would have to put up only the slightest bit of resistance to keep Shizuo from pushing any further; the contact a weight more than a force. But he kept moving forward and closer to the ground until he was able to relinquish the support of his elbows under his body and spread his arms out in front of himself instead. When Izaya’s chest met the ground, his entire body folded in two, he heard Shizuo’s sharp intake of breath. “Shit.” He mumbled. “How are you so flexible?”

Izaya ignored the question, lacking the effort to pull an answer from his brain just to satiate Shizuo’s curiosity. He held the position for almost half a minute, resting his forehead on the grass with his eyes closed to better distract himself from the burn in the backs of his thighs. The weight of Shizuo’s hands at his back disappeared almost as soon as Izaya pressed back against them, the flex of his muscles making his intention to return to sitting obvious under the other’s touch.

“Alright.” The teacher suddenly spoke up from the place he’d made himself comfortable along one of the wooden benches lining the field. “Lets start off with a jog around the oval.” He chirped, taking a sip from the paper cup of what Izaya assumed was hot coffee in his hands. Izaya turned away from him and pushed himself into a jog before the urge to wrestle that cup of warmth and caffeine in equal parts away from the other man became too much to bare. Shizuo fell into stride beside him, his pace slowed to match Izaya’s more languid than usual one. He knew Shizuo could outrun him if he wanted to, he thought it must have been an effort for the blonde to hold back as much as he was, to force his stride into one that matched Izaya’s weary and not so effortless one. He couldn’t help it, he was so tired; the fog over his head had only gotten heavier as the day went by. After a couple laps of Shizuo’s breath huffing at his side, Izaya felt more than ready to collapse at any given moment. He tried to focus on where each foot left the ground and then returned, if only in an effort to keep his mind awake for something and prevent his stumble towards a particularly embarrassing demise.

A good majority of their practice involved the use of the silver steel batons that would become an important part of the weekends events. The metal was colder than ice in Izaya’s hand, he thought he’d have trouble keeping hold of it just for the sheer fact that he didn’t want to. They practiced passing back and forth for while before incorporating it into a relay. Izaya would run one half of the field and meet Shizuo midway before he’d then pass the chilled baton onto the other. Izaya fumbled it into Shizuo’s hand a half a dozen times and completely missed it the other half. His fingers either shaking and stiff from the cold or his grasp slippery and wet from sweat. He hadn’t worked so hard in longs months, the physical exertion taking its toll on his ill adjusted body.

It was a slippery patch of grass that ended up drawing what seemed like hours of practice and was merely less than one to a close. He’d seen Shizuo lose his balance over it on a number of occasions and had steered around it himself each time it came into his path. It only went to show how exhausted he was, that his brain had shut down before his body; when he came across the area, instead of taking a detour around it, he ran right through and had neither the physical will nor the mental space to adjust his stability over the slick patch. His foot flew out from under and behind him, leaving him to stumble and land on the other foot; he felt his ankle twist under the unbalanced pressure of his body and collapse to bare the rest of his weight to gravity and the ground beneath him. His shoulder hit the ground first, Izaya moved his arm up in from of his face to prevent a mouth full of grass, leaving the side of that limb to take the brunt of the impact instead. He’d fallen with such a force that it left him to roll a few meters along the ground before he came to an inevitable stop. He lay on his back staring up at the overcast sky for a few moments, breathless with the immediate burst of pain from his ankle and the air that had been pushed from his lungs. He was a little dizzy, his vision of the fluffy white clouds twisting and blurring every so often; his ears were ringing too, outside sound drowned out by the high pitch squeal coming from what felt like his own mind; he distantly wondered how many brain cells he had left; the amount of times he’d caught some sort of an impact on his head or face just within the past week was more than a little alarming, surely he’d being running out soon, depleting his supply before it’s had the chance to replenish.

His vision had almost completely cleared by the time Shizuo’s face came into view, hovering worriedly over his own; and his hearing came back after the second call of his name, so that when Izaya watched Shizuo’s mouth form the syllables of his name for a second time, he had the sound to go along with it. He could definitely feel his body, Shizuo’s hands coming out to grasp at his shoulders forcing a flinch from the sudden pressure on the arm that had taken the place of his unsteady footing to land Izaya’s weight against it.

Shizuo retracted his touch from the other’s shoulder with a cringe to match Izaya’s own. “Izaya.” He yelled.

Izaya winced again, at the sound this time, the assault on his newly regained senses a little too much to handle at the current moment. “Be quiet.” He hissed, pressing his hand up to cover Shizuo’s face. “You’re so loud.”

Shizuo huffed against Izaya’s hand at the contact, moving to push it out of the way with his own at Izaya’s wrist. “Are you okay?” He asked, a little more quietly this time, his features creased on worry.

“Yeah.” Izaya sighed, feeling a little like an idiot and a lot like exhausted. He lifted his arms to run both hands over his face and moved to sit up, forcing Shizuo to retreat to his feet in order to give Izaya some space. He tested his ankle by rotating his foot and a sharp surge of pain shot straight through it. It wasn’t enough to make him think he had broken it, but it hurt all the same; it was riding the fine line between bearable and incredibly unpleasant.

“Here.” He took Shizuo’s outstretched hand, letting the other bring the full weight of his body back onto his feet. He tried to keep the pressure off his ankle but it was difficult to manage much of anything with only the use of one leg. He only made it a couple of limping steps before Shizuo’s arm made its way around his waist and his own arm was pulled across Shizuo’s shoulders. Izaya let his weight go to the support of those shoulders under his draping arm, abandoning the last of what pride hadn’t been flattened by his fall to the grass, to give up the weight of gravity and share it with Shizuo beside him. They made it to the edge of the field and it took Shizuo clearing his throat before the teacher had even noticed their arrival.

His eyes widened in apparent shock. “What happened?” He asked.

“I just twisted my ankle. It’s fine.” Izaya replied easily, like the majority of his weight wasn’t currently added to Shizuo’s.

“Oh, okay.” He spoke shakily, his voice a little nervous. It could of had something to do with the distasteful glare Shizuo was currently directing his way. “Well lets leave it at that for today then. The bell is about to go anyway.” He forced a smile.

Izaya just turned his body in the direction of the locker rooms and waited until Shizuo did the same. They trudged back there, Izaya’s arm still heavy around the blonde’s neck and across his shoulders, until Shizuo was able to push the door open one handed and Izaya could relinquish his hold on him to take a seat at one of the wooden benches in front of his locker instead.

He took his shoes off first, wanting to see the extent of the damage he’d done to his foot. He rolled his left sock down over his ankle to watch the pale skin of his leg spread into the slightly more red and inflamed skin just above the top of his foot. It was a little swollen, but not nearly as bad as he had been expecting. It wouldn’t take long to heal so long as he kept the pressure off of it for the rest of the day. He rolled his sock back up over his ankle and began the arduous task of removing his shorts and replacing them with his tight jeans all whilst being seated. He resisted the urge to take a glance to his right and see if Shizuo was watching him, instead focusing on the best way to wiggle into his pants without having to stand. Once he’d managed that, had the button on his jeans done up and his belt closed tight around his hips, he was able to lift the weight of his shirt up and over his head, a mildly easier task, he only flinched the slightest at the angle of his sore arm over his head. That was a little red too, the skin grazed and irritated from being dragged along the ground in his inelegant tumble. He tried to not feel too embarrassed at recounting that particular memory, it wasn’t as though he really cared about what Shizuo thought of him anyway.

“You should put some ice on that.” He lifted his gaze from where it was locked onto the laces of his school shoes being tied to finally land at Shizuo as he spoke. The blonde was already dressed and holding the strap of his school bag slung over his shoulder, pointedly staring at the slightly swollen foot Izaya was currently tying his laces over.

Izaya shrugged. “I’ll do it when I get home.” Shinra wouldn’t be happy with that, but lucky he wasn’t here, Izaya wasn’t particularly willing to get around with an icepack taped to his bare foot for the remainder of the school day. Without being asked — not that he ever would — Shizuo resumed his position as Izaya’s support almost as soon as he had gotten to his unsteady feet and clicked his locker shut. He didn’t refuse the contact even when they left the locker room and came out into the hallway bustling with sound and movement; students returning from lunch and making their way into the classroom that called for their presence. Izaya tried to shift as much of his weight back onto his own legs as he could, loosening his hold around the shift of Shizup’s shoulders until it looked more like the a casual weight rather than the unflinching support it was; it didn’t do much to help his pride when every step required the complete focus of schooling his features into unaffected calm, but he would take what he could get. He didn’t have to look to know that Shizuo’s attention had shifted at the change in pressure, he felt it in the hand that tightened against his waist.

Izaya barely noticed when the background of his surroundings changed from the bustling hallway to the inside of an unfamiliar classroom. The teacher at the front of the room barely spared him a glance as he was dropped into a seat pulled back from a small single desk, despite the fact that this wasn’t exactly his class. He wasn’t sure why he’d let himself be dragged around by Shizuo all day just to keep him company among the many classes that were usually lacking his presence. Once he’d been seated, Shizuo’s support left his waist as quickly as it had first appeared and he went to his own place at the desk directly in front of Izaya’s. A glance up at the whiteboard at the far front of the room, filled with mathematical equations and rather simple questions told him quite obviously what class he’d been led to.

The teacher and his surroundings were foreign a experience to Izaya; his own advanced math classes with Shinra usually being held in a completely different classroom with a more experienced teacher to boot. Izaya wasn’t sure how the blonde had managed to land himself in the lowest of three classes, his impression being that Shizuo was a lot more intelligent than he usually let on. In any case, Izaya was able to breeze through the questions on the board quite easily, even without the use of a textbook. It left him finished far before everyone else and as a result, very bored. He considered dropping his head down onto the desk and making a cradle of his arms before taking a much needed nap, but the various consequences of that, the most embarrassing of which having to be shaken awake by another member of the class or the teacher them self, kept him from giving in to that particular urge; but he needed something to distract himself from the still slow throbbing of his ankle. So instead, he found himself tearing the borrowed sheets of paper on his desk adorned with mathematical equations into small, square sized pieces of which he then proceeded to fold into his uneducated replication of various origami.

First came his interpretation of a crane, it was far from textbook perfect but Izaya was rather impressed with himself none the less. It only went downhill from there as far as he was concerned, the horse he attempted coming out closer to that of an inbred donkey and the dog looking like it had been beaten by its owners. He eventually gave up and decided to stick with something easy enough that he could perfect: paper planes. He kept the edges as symmetrical as possible, folding them with sharp precision until the shape of wings came into view. He moved it through the air in front of himself a couple of times, just to test its efficiency. Once he was satisfied that the paper plane was indeed as aerodynamic as possible, he lined the point of the plane up with the blonde head of hair a metre or so in front of him and drew his arm through the air in an elegant arc, using the flick of his wrist to put as much power behind the throw as possible whist still maintaining its stability and direction. It glided evenly through the short span of air as though it had been suspended by a string, until the sharp nose of it met the back of Shizuo’s head and it tumbled down behind the other’s chair.

The motion of Shizuo’s pen moving over the paper stopped immediately, his hand fallen to stillness. He turned around whilst leaning forward in his seat to retrieve the object that had disrupted his learning and lodged itself behind his back. It was only once he’d fished the paper plane out of its confines that he finally turned his unimpressed gaze onto Izaya’s own. Izaya just smiled innocently, head tipped into his hand. Shizuo maintained his narrow-eyed, flat-mouthed glare all the while moving his arm through the air with a lot less grace than what Izaya had managed. The rough motion forced the plane to glide through the air off centre and dip towards the ground beside Izaya’s desk; when he had lifted his head again after reclaiming the object, Shizuo had returned to his work and Izaya was faced with his back once more.

Izaya should stop. He should go back to working his scrap pieces of paper into indistinct animals or tapping a rhythm out on the desk with his restless hands, but the attention of weary glancers throughout the classroom was only conducive to his growing frustration and boredom. He was tired and drained but the thought of the day inevitably coming to a close, like it always did, brought him more than enough dread to warrant the nervous energy he’d built up over the course of the day, as did his desire to draw out the time between now and his unavoidable return home.

He used his fingers to straighten out the edges of the plane’s wings left slightly crumpled by the blonde’s rough grip before deciding to fold out the middle of the paper and deconstruct the plane completely. He laid the paper out on the table and smoothed over its surface with one of his hands. Izaya uncapped the black pen left sitting beside him and began to write out a small note in the centre of the sheet. It read:

Dear Shizu-chan,
The time it’s taking for you to complete your work is very concerning, I’d offer my assistance but I think you are far beyond my help. Please take care that what remains of your brain cells does not explode in an effort to understand that which is too difficult for your tiny pea-sized brain to comprehend. This is a sincere concern for your safety.
From your very best friend, Izaya senpai <3

Izaya drew a little black heart next to the end of his name before folding the paper back into the shape of a plane. It took half as long, the creases from beforehand making the paper more than fall into its predetermined structure than anything else. He made sure to scrawl a quick ‘open me’ on the edge of one of the wings before sending it on a short path through the air once more. This time the plane landed softly on the surface of Shizuo’s desk, just over the sheet he’d been writing on. He watched Shizuo glare at the object that had interrupted his work once more and half expected him to crush the paper in his fist; but he picked it up instead, inspecting the short message over the wing before beginning to unfold the plane and bring Izaya’s longer, more heartfelt message into view. Izaya could see the strain building in the back of Shizuo’s shoulders with each second the other lingered over his message, he didn’t need to see his expression when the tight wound muscles of Shizuo’s body gave his emotions away so clearly. Shizuo clenched his hand in a sudden fit of frustration and the paper gave way to his grip, crumpling in on itself to the shape of a little ball. He held it in his hand for a minute or so, Izaya could see his back shift with each slow breath the other took.

He released his fist after a moment and began to unfurl the paper and smooth it back out over his desk. Izaya couldn’t see the contents of the message Shizuo was writing, only the movement of the pen gripped tight in his fingers. Shizuo barely attempted to return the paper to its original plane-like shape for more than a second before scrunching it back into a ball and throwing over his shoulder. The paper landed on Izaya’s desk almost silently and he started to unfold the weight of it.

Rotten no good flea,
Fuck you. Not everyone is as freakishly smart as you. Leave me alone and let me do my work. Also, you’re not my senpai I’m OLDER THAN YOU!

p.s You talk big for someone who ate shit on the track today.

The pen strokes verged on illegible towards the end of the message, Shizuo’s apparent frustration gaining the upper hand on his handwriting to leave it sharp and messy as if in place of the incoherent shouting his anger usually spurred from him in Izaya’s company. Izaya let his smile spread wide and unrestrained across his face, and if it became a little strained at that last sentence, no one had to know. He picked up his pen to write out a new note beside Shizuo’s.

Inhuman brute,
Thank you for complimenting my intelligence, I guess what I lack in age I simply make up for in maturity. If you are really struggling so much I’m sure your teacher would be happy to offer his support. With the way he’s looking at you now, I’m sure he’d do more than that. I think he wants to get in your pants…
Izaya <3

Izaya didn’t bother to attempt folding the paper back into some normalcy, merely mirrored Shizuo in crumpling the it to a ball before lobbing it onto the surface of his desk. It made impact with Shizuo’s hand moving over his paper, knocking his pen and leaving a wobbly line of ink across the page. He could practically hear Shizuo’s teeth grinding against each other, could see the action in the muscles clenching hard at the side of his jaw. Izaya was vibrating with anticipation in his seat as he watched Shizuo unravel the paper with disregard for the way his tight grip furthered its already poor condition.

Izaya could tell the point where Shizuo had reached the end of the message, his entire body drawn tight on irritation as his head came up and away from the paper in a sharp whip quick movement to bring his attention on the teacher of the class leaning against his desk at the front of the room, staring at Shizuo from across the stretch of distance laid out between them.

Izaya tried to stifle his amusement, he really did; but the way the man at the front of the room visibly flinched and quickly averted his gaze in direct response to Shizuo’s own had his self control crumbling and his breath coming in short, discrete huffs of laughter. He watched belatedly as Shizuo shifted in his seat, tearing the paper still clutched in his hands into two before reaching out to grab the heavy math textbook by the edge of his desk and flinging it back behind him in Izaya’s direction.

The impact was as immediate as it was breathtaking. The book travelled so fast through the short span of air between them, Izaya barely had time to register the incoming object, let alone at all prepare for it. It made contact with the centre of his chest, the collision forcibly driving the air from his lungs; but it was such an unexpected shock that Izaya wasn’t gasping for new air until he found himself sprawled out on the back of his chair that had been pushed to fall and lie flat against the ground due to the force of Shizuo’s inhuman strength. That hurt too, the chair plunging backwards too fast for him to make any effort to protect the back of his skull as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

Izaya couldn’t even groan in pain, his lungs still empty of air and refusing to refill no matter the sharp intakes of breath he’d pull in. It took a few seconds of concentration through his hazy throbbing head to actually drag in a breath deep enough to reassure Izaya he wasn’t actually suffocating. By then he was able to roll out from the side of the chair he’d still been half draped over and push himself up to a sit. As he had been dreading, all eyes were glued to himself, some wide on surprise, others wincing on sympathy and some looking a little reassured. Shizuo’s just looked horrified; his eyes large and flooded with shock and his mouth gaping to match. Izaya unconsciously brought his hand to his chest to press against the still sore spot of impact. In spite of the air now travelling normally though his lungs, he still felt as though he was drowning in a kind of breathlessness; it had been so long since he’d been on the receiving end of Shizuo’s inhuman strength, experiencing it for himself was always more intense than just playing the observer.

He’d been so lost in thought it took more than a moment for him to realise Shizuo had left the confines of his seat, until the other was standing before him, hand stretched out in front of his face. He let Shizuo pull him to his feet, despite the current realm of onlookers; his ankle was still aching and he’d sustained more injuries of the course of the day that he felt was probably normal, even for him.

“Take him to the nurses office.” The teacher mumbled, avoiding Shizuo’s gaze and gesturing in the direction of the open door. Shizuo pulled Izaya’s arm around his shoulders once again but hesitated when reaching for his waist, deciding to leave his hand lying limp by his side instead. They shuffled towards the open door, Shizuo’s eyes glued to his shoes and Izaya’s on the flustered face of their teacher, ducked down over the papers he was pretending to sort on his desk.

They made it to the nurses office in relative silence, the only sound being the scuff of their shoes in the otherwise quiet hallway. Izaya was especially grateful when he was able to drop his battered body to the small bed a few steps from the doorway of the office, distantly realising he should have taken his first injury of the day as an excuse to spend the rest of it in that very spot. Izaya leant back on his hands pressed to the pristine white cotton sheets laid out beneath him and stared at the door left open by the nurses apparent departure and waited for her return. The bed dipped under Shizuo’s weight as he came to sit beside Izaya, shoulders slumped and hands in his lap.

“Sorry.”

Izaya glanced to side but Shizuo’s gaze was locked onto his fingers pulling at a loose thread from the inside seam of his school pants. “It’s okay,” He reassured. “I probably deserved it anyway.”

“You did.” Shizuo spoke up almost immediately, his gaze finally lifting to catch Izaya’s own. It dropped again almost just as quick. “That doesn’t mean it was okay.” His hand returned to the thread at his leg, yanking it sharply until started to increase in length and unravel at the seam. “I keep hurting you, even when I’m trying my hardest not to.”

“Stop.” Izaya said, reaching to still the motion of Shizuo’s hand and pulling it away from doing anymore damage to the stitching of his pants. Shizuo froze, unsure of what Izaya’s command was in regard to and apparently taking it as an order to still his very being; Izaya wondered if he was still breathing. “Stop trying.” He clarified, dropping Shizuo’s hand to the bed at his side. “I don’t care if you hurt me.”

Shizuo’s head jerked to the side, his eyes locking onto Izaya’s with startling sincerity. “The point is I do.” He growled, his tone falling into frustration at Izaya’s casual flippancy for his physical wellbeing.

“Why?” Izaya asked with an equal amount of irritation on his voice. “You never used to. What’s changed?” He demanded.

Shizuo’s face eased out of agitation as Izaya’s rose, dropping his gaze back to his lap. “Everything’s changed.” He mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper; but Izaya caught it, audible enough even to his strained hearing. He had been opening his mouth to ask for elaboration on that when the nurse finally made her way back through the door. She only glanced at them for a moment, deeming them both familiar enough to this room over the years to not have to spare a second.

“You boys will be the death of each other.” She sighed, dropping the files she had been carrying into the room onto her desk. “What happened this time?” She asked, turning away from her desk to the two students sat on the bed across the room. She stumbled a little at the start of her stride forward, eyes widening on offhand surprise. “Wow, aren’t we calm today.” She breathed, evidently shocked at the unusual lack of animosity filling the room. Izaya can remember the handful of times he’d end up here over the course of just one week, waiting for the nurses attention on the other side of the room from the blonde after they’d both been forced into its confines; glaring daggers at the other and resisting the urge to do more damage than what he had already done.

He would be shocked himself at their sudden change except that for him it wasn’t so sudden, it had drifted into occurrence over a number of days to leave him resigned to a truce that was becoming more than temporary with each passing day.

“I fell off my chair and hit my head.” He spoke, gesturing to the back of his skull. “And my chest.” He brought his hand to push at the tender patch of skin just over his sternum.

The nurse hummed. “And what happened to your foot?” She asked, pointing at the swelling skin peeking out from between the end of his pants and the top of his sock.

“Ah.” He acknowledged, surprised at her level of observancy. “I fell over and twisted my ankle.” He explained.

“Alright.” She sighed, placing her hand on the back of his head and pulling it forward so she could bring it into view. He stifled a wince as she pressed and prodded at the sore skin to check for signs of swelling. “You’ll be okay,” She dismissed, “It wasn’t a hard hit.” She released her grip on his head and he was able to lift it back to a position that didn’t strain his neck. “Now lift your shirt.” She ordered. Izaya hesitated for a moment, though he wasn’t quite sure why; that was until he shrugged off his jacket and lifted the hem of his shirt up over his chest to bring the still red and healing cuts marring his stomach into view.

They weren’t as bad as they had been even the day before, but they were still obvious against the stark white of his skin. The nurse didn’t seem to pause over them, merely moved her hand to press over Izaya’s chest and feel for the bones under his skin, without much regard for the ache still present there. He glanced to his right at Shizuo sitting quietly, hoping to find his attention elsewhere for the moment. It wasn’t. His brows were furrowed on the thin lines over his lower belly, probably trying to recall when and how he had done the damage himself. That was the benefit about the majority of the school’s knowledge of his and Shizuo’s violent and equally volatile relationship, the teachers and the nurse took one look at any bruises colouring his face, or any other signs of apparent assault and chalked it up to their twisted games of cat and mouse. He was sure that was the only thing that left the nurse leaning back from his body to let him drop his shirt without commenting on the cuts there.

But with Shizuo, it wasn’t to simple, he was the only person who could really know whether the destruction to Izaya’s body can come from his his own actions or the those of somebody else. Izaya could only hope that if he ever did become suspicious, he wouldn’t care enough to ask.

“Well, nothing’s broken,” she sighed. “But let me wrap your ankle for you and get some ice for it.” She moved away to the cabinets on the far side of the room and Izaya took the opportunity to replace his jacket over his shoulders and slip the shoe and sock off of his sore foot while he waited for her return.

“What happened to your stomach?” Shizuo asked, quiet enough to not be heard by the nurse still drawing items from cupboards around the room.

Ah, there it is, Izaya thought, resigning himself to the conversation with a long sigh. “I honestly don’t remember Shizu-chan.”

“Bullshit.” Shizuo deadpanned, his tone as flat as his stare. Izaya mustered all the viciousness he could possibly carry into a single glare and directed it at Shizuo, making his very aura a threat without having said anything in reply. Shizuo backed down and looked away, just like Izaya thought he would, this submissive, eager-to-please Shizuo becoming predictable in and of itself. The nurse returned to the side of the bed, kneeling down with a bandage in hand to begin to wrap weight of it around Izaya’s ankle. She pulled the end of it tight and and tucked it under the edge of the bandage to leave it secure around his foot. She then began to lift his leg and Izaya took the hint, twisting his body and shuffling back behind Shizuo on the bed to leave both his feet up and supported on its surface; she placed the icepack she had brought with her over his ankle.

“Stay here for the rest of the day and make sure you ice it again when you get home.” She said with a smile, turning away from the bed and back to her desk. Izaya slid further back on the bed until he could lie down flat with his head on the fluffy pillow behind him. He turned his head to the side to face Shizuo’s back beside him.

“Aren’t you going to go back to class?” He asked.

Shizuo shrugged. “Nah, I think I’ll just stay here,” He answered, unmoving from his seat at the edge of the bed.

“Whatever.” Izaya sighed, shifting his body into greater comfort and closing his eyes. He would have been alarmed at how quickly he fell asleep without the aid of pills but he was lost to consciousness before he could form the thought.

When Izaya awoke again, it was with the sharp ringing of the school bell assaulting his ears and drawing him out of sleep. It only lasted for a handful of seconds and had disappeared again by the time he’d blinked the blurry haze from his eyes. Shizuo was no longer sitting right beside him; having dragged a chair next to the bed within the last hour since Izaya fell asleep, he now sat slumped over in it, his head resting in his arms on the surface of the blankets still trapped under Izaya’s body.

The icepack on his ankle had mostly melted and at some point slipped off of his foot to the bed anyway, abandoning the precarious support of Izaya’s thin leg for the sheets under him. He pushed himself up from the bed and swung his legs around to dangle over the edge. Shizuo showed no signs of waking to Izaya’s movement and Izaya was tempted to leave him be, his features completely devoid of any emotion other than the apparent peace that came with his unconsciousness.

Izaya reached out to catch an unruly lock of blonde hair that had fallen in front of Shizuo’s face and tuck it behind his ear. With a pointed finger he then began to repeatedly poke the other in the middle of the forehead until his eyebrows drew together on latent frustration.

“Wakey wakey, Shizu-chan.” Izaya drawled, smirking as Shizuo lifted a hand to bat away his own before he’d even opened his eyes. “The bell just went.” He chirped, feeling a little more well rested and upbeat after his nap, however short.

Shizuo groaned as his eyes fluttered open, darting around the room until they landed on Izaya, at which he lifted himself upright with a little more urgency, keeping this eyes weary and locked onto the figure sat too close beside him. “What are you doing?” He asked, sounding more suspicious than Izaya thought he had any right to be.

“Waking you up,” Izaya smirked, “Aren’t I a good friend? I could have left you here all night if I wanted to.” He teased, tilting his head to make a show of the innocent benevolence he didn’t really feel.

“Sure, thanks.” Shizuo scoffed, the air of sarcasm on his voice belying any gratefulness that word would usually have held. A knock sounded at the door, pulling the attention of both boys to the expanse of it that had drifted closed at some point; Izaya only now realised that the room was utterly empty aside from the two of them, the nurse having left for one reason or another during the time her students had been fast asleep. Shizuo pushed himself out of his seat as the more immediately capable one between them, and run a hand through his hair, pushing the rumpled weight of it back from his face on his way to the door. He pulled it open by the handle and was met with the gaze of a shorter, but equally as blonde girl Izaya recognised from the class they had just come from. Her shoulders were waited down by three school bags, two of which she shifted into a hand to hold out in Shizuo’s direction.

“Your bags.” She spoke, her voice not as small as Izaya had been expecting, as he had heard most girls speak in Shizuo’s presence. “You left them in the class.” She explained.

Izaya couldn’t make sense of Shizuo’s expression with the details of his face being hidden behind his back, but he could hear him speak well enough, could make out the surprised “Oh” that left his lips for how quiet the room was.

“Thanks.” Shizuo spoke, quickly taking the heavy burden of both bags adorning her outstretched arm; and Shizuo must have paired his much more sincere expression of gratitude - at least compared to what he had offered Izaya only moments beforehand - with a smile because she was smiling back, if only a short and brief one before she turned on her heel and vacated the door way Izaya was watching her through. Shizuo didn’t bother closing the door behind her, just left the weight of it open as he moved back over by the bed where Izaya was still seated.

“Who was that?” He asked, making the effort to fit his semi-swollen foot back into his shoe. He managed eventually, if not just; it was an uncomfortable squeeze and he had to leave his laces a lot looser than he would have liked.

Shizuo shrugged. “I don’t know,” He offered, “But I think she’s in my class.”

“No shit.” Izaya drawled. “Even I had realised that.”

Shizuo rolled his eyes, slinging both bags over one shoulder instead of handing Izaya’s off and coming to squat in front of the bed where Izaya still sat, his back to the other so all he could see of him were broad shoulders under the pale blue of his school jacket. “Get on.” He commanded, steady in his perch over the ground at Izaya’s feet.

“What?” Izaya breathed in a sharp huff of air that could only very generously be called a laugh; but his face was far devoid of any amusement, only carrying the edge of wary disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” He deadpanned, narrowing his eyes to glare at the back of Shizuo’s head.

“Sure am.” He challenged, turning his head to match Izaya’s glare with one equally as stony. “Or would you rather me throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” He asked. “Or carry you in my arms like a princess?” He continued, voice starting to dip into the growl he always took with Izaya when irritation won out over tolerance. “Because having to help a crippled person walk all the way home is going to be just as painful for me as it will be for you.”

“I’m not crippled.” Izaya snapped, resisting the urge to kick at the back of Shizuo’s head.

“Fine, your perfectly capable.” He assured, all sincerity stripped from his voice with the sarcasm currently lacing it. “Just get on.” He sighed, sounding more exhausted than Izaya felt. “If it’s really that bad you can close your eyes and pretend your somewhere else.”

Izaya sighed and let his resignation go with it. Pushing back from the bed, he let his feet drop to the ground in front of him. “That’s not much of a comfort.” He mumbled, moving to place either hand on each one of Shizuo’s shoulders and lean forward to rest his chest against the blonde’s upper back. Shizuo rose to stand swiftly, not so much as stumbling at the addition of Izaya’s weight; Izaya brought his legs up to Shizuo’s sides and Shizuo reached back to catch them in his hands. His palms caught under the back of Izaya’s thighs before shifting to slide down to just before the bent angle of his knees. Izaya tried not to shiver at the slow slide of contact over a more sensitive part of his body; he couldn’t be sure how effective it was.

Shizuo moved forward and out of the room without any of the hesitation Izaya had assumed he would offer; he had to duck his head down into Shizuo’s shoulder just to avoid smacking it against the top of the doorway. Izaya made an effort to get comfortable but couldn’t really achieve anything close to it until they’d left the building and started moving along the path outside the school gates. He wasn’t sure whether Shizuo’s slightly longer strides inside the institution were for Izaya’s sake or his own, but he was grateful nevertheless, finally able to lift his head from where they had been trained on the wooden floors inside the building just to avoid catching the gaze of anyone he knew or would come to know in the future. He found it a little easier to relax now with the relatively isolated streets around them, all for the occasional student making their own way home. He was able to loosen the tension from his muscles and leave his body slack against Shizuo’s back; in doing so he could feel the strain ease from across Shizuo’s shoulders under him, could feel the grip at the legs go a little more gentle. Izaya released Shizuo’s shoulders and draped his arms to hang loosely around his neck instead.

“Aren’t you afraid I might slit your throat?” Izaya asked, breaking the silence that had fallen around them to draw a single finger across the skin of Shizuo’s throat; he could feel the shift of the other swallowing under his touch.

“No.” He replied, more calm than what Izaya had been anticipating.

“Why not?” He inquired, less of a bite on the words than what he’d been intending. He felt more than saw Shizuo shrug, the other’s shoulders shifting under the weight of his arms.

“Dunno,” He breathed, “Just a feeling.”

Izaya let the silence fall back to blanket over them instead of refuting or confirming Shizuo’s response either one. He let his body relax once more, and after a moment, dropped his head to rest against Shizuo’s shoulder and stare out at the houses lining the street that passed by with every step Shizuo took. If every time he blinked, it took a little longer to open his eyes again, he was sure Shizuo wouldn’t notice, and hoped he wouldn’t mind.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until Shizuo had rounded the last corner of the block and stepped out onto Izaya’s street that a sudden and distressing thought had come into existence. “Izaya, were we supposed to pick up your sisters?”

Izaya didn’t answer; he had been unusually quiet over the last few minutes of their walk, his body completely lax and unmoving over Shizuo’s own. “Izaya.” He tried again, punctuating his call for the other’s attention by tightening his grip on the back of his legs ever so slightly. Izaya jerked awake, he could hear it in the sharp inhale over him, in the abrupt shift of muscles around him.

“What?” He quickly replied, removing the weight of his head from Shizuo’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He huffed, trying not to smile at the obvious haze of sleep still settled in the other’s voice. “I just asked if we were supposed to pick up your sisters.”

“Oh,” Izaya murmured, his body seeming to relax again after establishing the lack of current danger, “No, they’re staying at a friend’s house again.”

“Okay.” Shizuo breathed a sigh of relief and was able to unwind the tension his muscles a little more himself, easing back into the long strides he’d taken to get as far as they had. Shizuo was just approaching the edge of Izaya’s house gone familiar over the last few days, his steps slowing along the footpath, when Izaya’s body started to involuntarily tense. He could sense the effort Izaya put into forcibly easing back into an appearance of calm but Shizuo was close enough to feel the difference.

“Okay, you can put me down now.” Izaya spoke with urgency, trying to move his legs in Shizuo’s hold.

“You won’t make it up the stairs.” Shizuo countered, gesturing with a nod of his head to the short set of stairs marking the entrance to Izaya’s house. He kept walking forward, turning off of the footpath and onto the concrete diverging into the other’s property, his stride unfaltering even at the inherent panic quickly taking over Izaya’s very presence.

“Shizu-chan, put me down!” He practically growled, thighs tensing around Shizuo’s waist, arms flexing around his throat. Shizuo could feel those muscles go wire taught in his grip, bunching up with the urge to move; but his grasp on the backs of Izaya’s thighs was as unflinching as it was firm, and no matter how much he squirmed over the other’s back, Shizuo barely noted the shift as more than a minor annoyance. Izaya’s hands had moved to his shoulders now, his fingers dug into the skin there with unyielding viciousness. “Let. Go.” He snarled, punctuating each word with a sharp kick to Shizuo’s side. When that got little response, he forced the heel of his shoe in under the bottom of Shizuo’s ribs, pressing down with a strength Shizuo could feel tensing in the legs in his hold.

“Fuck.” Shizuo blurted, finally moving to pull Izaya’s uninjured ankle back from his torso with the first throb of true pain. “Calm down.” He growled, his voice a dark rumble more than anything soothing that might usually along with the words. He could hear just as well as feel Izaya ignoring his advice, the drag of rough inhales loud over his head and the fluctuating press of Izaya’s expanding chest against his back too obvious to disregard. “What’s wrong? Shizuo asked, making the effort to bring his tone back into calm himself rather than the depths of oncoming frustration it had taken before.

“Please,” Izaya answered, not much of an answer to anything at all, “Just put me down.”

Shizuo let all the oxygen out of his lungs in a resigned huff of air. “Fine,” He relented, “Just let me go up the stairs first.” Izaya didn’t argue any further, apparently soothed at having reached a compromise that gave him the certainty of being able to place his feet back on the ground. Shizuo reached the landing at the top of the steps and relinquished his hold on the backs of Izaya’s knees; Izaya unwrapped his thighs from Shizuo’s waist and disentangled his arms from around his throat, slipping down the other’s back and onto the ground with a small thud of sound. Shizuo turned to steady Izaya, anticipating the other’s lack of balance at having landed on one foot, but he’d been overzealous, because by the time he had turned Izaya was already adjusting himself over two feet, placing pressure equally over their support so as to ignore any disfunction they currently held and regain normality by force. Shizuo would have been impressed at the complete lack of emotion gracing Izaya’s face if he wasn’t just incredibly concerned. Shizuo shifted the weight of Izaya’s schoolbag off of his shoulder to hand it across the distance between them.

“Thanks.” Izaya mumbled, taking the strap of the bag to slip it over his own shoulder. “For walking me back.”

“That’s okay.” Shizuo conceded, resisting the urge to clarify that he had in fact carried the other home for all the lack of walking he did.

Izaya brought a hand out to grasp the handle of the front door and twist it to open, his shoulder flexed in preemptive force to push the weight of it inwards. “See you tomo—“ Before he could finish the act of speech or pushing the door in either one, another force on the other side of the wood decided to take over Izaya’s intention with more speed and strength than the other would have mustered. The door flew inwards, pulling Izaya and his grip still on the handle with it; Izaya stumbled a step at being forcibly dragged and made impact with the figure that had appeared in the doorway with all the sudden force of his strength.

Shizuo watched the other’s face make impact with the taller mans suit-clad chest, at which Izaya pushed back from almost as soon as the contact had been made, and Shizuo was left with an unobstructed view of the man who had interrupted them.

I didn’t take more than a second for Shizuo to place the man’s identity in relation to Izaya, even the briefest of glances at the disconcertingly large amount of similarities between the two took care of that. The most immediate and all consuming feature that had captured his attention with magnetising familiarity were the eyes; the deepest shade of blood red he’d ever seen and shadowed with a dark that possibly rivalled even Izaya’s own. There were other things too: the slim body, sharp jawline, high cheekbones, ebony hair matching perfectly sculpted eyebrows; but that was also where one difference sat, where Izaya’s hair hung flat like a curtain of black over his face, sleek and straight in all the places Shizuo’s wasn’t, his father’s held the complete opposite tendency; it was wavy and wild and closer to that of his own. He looked young too, Shizuo supposed he was attractive in a dangerously threatening sort of a way, kind of like Iza—

Shit, he did not just almost think that.

The man stood at least an entire head taller than Izaya too, and was currently blinking what looked like genuine surprise from his features at Izaya’s retreating form.

“Izaya.” He spoke, voice deeper and more silvery than what Shizuo had been expecting, drawing another line of difference between the teasing lilt of Izaya’s own.

“Shirou.” But that didn’t sound like Izaya’s either, his words coming low and clear that spoke as an over the top formality and an idle threat at one and the same time. Shizuo could practically taste the tension buzzing the air to uncomfortable with just the exchange of those two words.

He was more than surprised when the man he now knew as Shirou brought an especially convincing smile onto his face. “How was school?”

Izaya’s reaction to the other’s carefree call for information was almost comical, Shizuo could have laughed at the way his eyes blew wide on confusion and his lips parted on shock, but Shizuo felt just as confused, his mind reeling with the effort of distinguishing that smile as utterly genuine or the manipulation he’d except from someone in the Orihara blood line. It was difficult enough deciphering Izaya’s many masks of emotion, and coming face to face with the possible source of it was far from what he needed.

“I— It was… fine.” Izaya faltered, his voice tight on something Shizuo couldn’t see.

“That’s good,” Shirou responded, either ignorant or completely oblivious to the surprise painting Izaya’s features that had now turned wary. “Who’s this?” He asked, his gaze finally sliding to land on Shizuo with startling sincerity. Izaya seemed to have only truly realised Shizuo’s presence in that very moment, just as Shizuo had been pulled back from his observance to remember his own.

“Uh,” He hesitated, “This is Shizu-cha— Shizuo. He’s a— We’re in the same class.” He finally settled on, saving Shizuo the effort of having to reprimand the other for introducing him with a ridiculous nickname.

“Nice to meet you.” Shizuo murmured as polite as he could manage, bringing his head down in a short and no less brief nod of formality.

“I was just about to go get some things for dinner,” Shirou spoke up, “Your welcome to stay if you’d like, Shizuo-kun.”

Shizuo could see Izaya’s head whip around and up to face his father still smiling down at the blonde in the peripheral of his vision, he was surprised he didn't hear it snap with the force of the action. Izaya’s obviously horrified gaze then shifted back to Shizuo, he could feel himself going hot with self consciousness under the pressure of their attention. “Uh— Um.” He stammered, locking eyes Izaya only briefly enough to catch the plead in that gaze, the frown that spoke to what his answer should be without even having to think about it.

“I— Thank you, but I promised I’d have dinner with my family tonight.” He lied, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. But it was worth it to see Izaya deflate at the excuse, to watch him let out a breath like he’d been holding it since he first opened the door, to see the dread bleed back out of his face. If Shizuo thought too hard about it, he might have been a little hurt at his clearly unwanted company. As it was he couldn’t shake he irrational pang of uneasiness his mind left him at the thought of abandoning Izaya there in that very moment.

There was nothing he could do about it now anyway, he’d given his answer and didn’t feel particularly inclined to change it in any case; Izaya was evidently eager to have him leave and Shizuo didn’t feel like forcing his way into where he wasn’t wanted.

He’d just have to ignore the uncomfortable churning of his stomach and hope he was being unreasonable.

“See you tomorrow.” Shizuo spoke, taking one last glance at Izaya still stood over the porch, clutching the strap of his school bag with both pale hands. He let his gaze travel down to the set of Izaya’s legs, both pressing weight into the floor despite the pain he knew must be emanating from that sore ankle, and finally tore away from the sight to watch his own feet as they travelled over the stairs leading down to the footpath.

“See you.” He heard from behind him, distant and quiet like an afterthought to a mind too busy buzzing with noise, and Shizuo kept walking, out onto the side walk and further down the street, putting more distance between them with every step he took.

He should have felt lighter with the weight of Izaya and his bag left to their own support many metres away down the street, but Shizuo felt the force of his refusal like a guilty burden all the way home, through dinner with his own family and late into the night when he lay bundled under the covers of his bed, trying to shut his eyes to the unsettled air of anxiety winding its way around his bones.

Chapter Text

“I thought you said you were going out.” Izaya noted once he’d stepped past the door frame and into the house, only to have his father follow him back inside with Shizuo’s recent departure. He fought a flinch when the front door settled shut, the sound of it clicking into place all but deafening in the otherwise quiet room.

“I can do that later,” Shirou replied, “I want to talk to you about something first.”

Izaya turned to face his father, taking care to keep his body balanced over both of his feet despite the pain still radiating from his injured ankle. “What is it?” Izaya asked, fighting to keep his voice from dipping down into a growl of sound more suited to Shizuo than that of himself; he was tired and hurt and a little confused, but if his father wanted a fight, then by all means he’d give him one, he had limited patience for anything else.

If Shirou could sense the fraying edges of Izaya’s composure, he didn’t bother making it known, he simply matched Izaya’s stony frown with an expression that held little more than minor frustration. “I’m going to the funeral planning service tomorrow morning, I thought you might want to be there to pick out a coffin and have an input on arrangements.”

Izaya’s breath caught in his throat, he felt the pressure of memory fall over his mind, rapidly followed by the heavy force of guilt crushing his chest; with every twist and turn his life had taken in just the last week he’d very nearly forgotten his mother still lay cold and unmoving on a slab of metal in the basement of their local hospital. The realisation made his stomach clench until he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Yes, I do.” He replied almost immediately, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him; he would have put up a fight if his father had made the arrangements without including him, but he was glad he didn’t have to. He knew he couldn’t exactly afford to be taking any more time off school than he already had over the last few months but he was sure this particular event would be justified by anyone who asked.

“Alright.” Shirou conceded, and Izaya waited for another bout of conversation to stir and prevent him from escaping to his room. When Shirou made no effort to start an argument Izaya didn’t have the energy for, he deemed it an appropriate time to make an excuse for his retreat.

“I’m going to go do some homework.” He lied, making to turn away from his father and head back up the stairs towards his room.

“Alright…” Shirou repeated, raising his brow like Izaya was being unreasonably obtuse about reporting his whereabouts; even though Shirou had been adamant he do so only a few days prior.

Izaya rolled his eyes only once he’d fully turned to face away from Shirou and hurried up the steps and into his room before the other changed his mind about apparently allowing him to do so. He shut the door behind him and tried not to scream as he was reminded that it currently held all the security of a piece of fabric with its lock still seemingly ‘misplaced’. He let his schoolbag slip from his shoulder to land uncaring against the floor and let himself settle into the chair at his desk and finally offer his ankle reprieve from the pressure that had been turning it unbearable for only the last five or so minutes.

Izaya opened his laptop still sitting on his desk and unlocked it with a password obscure enough for even his father to have trouble breaking in. He scrolled through the emails he’d received and neglected to check over the last couple of days, replying only to the ones that demanded his immediate attention. His startup information gathering business had taken off at a pace he was unable to keep up with, more customers were rolling in everyday, strangers messaging him as his number was supposedly passed around the community by some more suspicious individuals. He didn’t mind. It kept him busy and gave him an excuse to go out, which would start to prove more difficult than it had been in the past with his unpredictable curfew now in place.

He’d been so lost in the web of information dancing across his computer that it genuinely frightened him when his phone went off in his pocket. He’d need to fix that.

[4:52] Unknown: You’re order is ready. When and where will you be picking it up?

Izaya typed out a reply all the while glancing at the light seeping in from under his bedroom door, watching it for any passing shadows.

[4:53] Izaya: Tomorrow night. The abandoned office complex a dozen buildings down from Raijin Academy.

Izaya slipped the phone back into his pocket and pressed his laptop shut. Walking was still difficult but his ankle had been given enough rest over the last hour to be able to now manage supporting a limp from the distance of the bedroom to the bathroom; and once Izaya had lingered as a long as possible under the shower and dressed himself in some more comfortable clothes, again from the bathroom and down the stairs to the kitchen; he refused to miss yet another meal just in an effort to avoid confrontation with his father, he can barely remember the last time he’d let himself eat a substantial plate of food. This was his house too, and he would have to learn to share the space with him sooner rather than later else he live solely off of the pills in his schoolbag and starve himself to death.

He found his father bent over the stove in the kitchen, stirring something that was making Izaya’s mouth water. He approached him carefully, unsure where the state of their relationship really sat at the moment, whether he should be expecting an abrupt explosion of violence or nothing at all. Shirou looked up as Izaya came close to the kitchen, and he fought to stand tall under the other man’s gaze, even if the effect was mostly countered by the oversized hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing.

“Oh,” He acknowledged Izaya’s presence like he hadn't been expecting it, “I’m making udon for dinner, I hope that’s okay.”

Izaya blinked, apparently they were going to be civil tonight, polite even; he wasn’t going to complain. “Yeah that sounds great… Is there anything I can do to help?” He offered carefully, like Shirou would bite if he said the wrong thing.

“No, I’m almost done,” He answered, “You can watch TV until its ready if you want.”

“Okay.” Izaya made his way over to the couch past the kitchen and further into the lounge room. His father had the heater on down here so it wasn’t as cold as it had been in his room, but Izaya still grabbed a blanket thrown over the back of the couch to wrap around himself while he descended into a spot, turning on the TV and flicking through the channels until he found something that interested him. He finally settled on an adults cartoon that left him distracted enough to even huff a laugh every so often. He started having trouble keeping his eyes open, his blink would linger long until he’d forget to open them again, only for a noise in the kitchen or a particularly loud character on the TV to startle him awake from his almost unconsciousness. Izaya wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he began drifting down to lay onto the couch, but before he was able to fully shut his brain off from the world, his father called from the kitchen and Izaya bolted upright with all the self preservation he’d let slip for the last drowsy half an hour.

“Dinner’s ready,” Shirou called again. But Izaya must have taken too long to offer a response because he’d barely had time to unwrap the blanket from around himself and throw it over the back of the couch before Shirou was coming out of the kitchen and into the lounge room with a bowl of steaming udon in each hand. “That’s okay, sit.” He urged, while Izaya was in the process of standing to collect his bowl and move over to sit at the dining table; he carefully lowered himself back to the couch at Shirou’s words and held out two hands to grasp the bowl that was being offered to him.

“Thanks.” He murmured, crossing his legs on the couch and setting the bowl in his lap while Shirou came around to sit on the other side. “Do you want me to change the channel?” He asked, gesturing to the TV in front of them.

Shirou shook his head. “This is fine.”

Izaya relented and grasped the chopsticks in the bowl with one hand, he gathered as many items of food as he possibly could in the one go — noodles, leafy green vegetables, carrots — and placed them into his mouth; he had to hold back a moan.

“Is it okay?” Shirou asked from beside him neglecting his own food to stare at Izaya instead. Izaya tried not to choke.

“Yeah, its really good.” He insisted, but it could be anything and he’d be happy, just the opportunity to have real food back in his stomach was enough. He slowed his eating while Shirou turned his attention onto his own food and tried not to look like he hadn’t eaten properly in days. The TV played quietly in the background while Izaya slurped his food and before long he’d polished off the entire bowl, bringing it to his lips to swallow down the last of the soup.

Izaya felt decidedly full, he was glad he’d forced himself to eat slower that what his body had demanded of him otherwise he thought he may have made himself sick. He stood from the couch with his bowl still in hand and made his way back into the kitchen to rinse it out and place it in the dish washer. He then started filling the sink with soapy water and began washing the dishes Shirou had used to cook, rinsing them under the cold tap and then setting them to dry on the rack. He was about halfway through the washing when Shirou came back out of the lounge room, his own empty bowl in hand. After placing it in the dishwasher, he grabbed the hand towel that had been hooked over the handle of the oven and began drying the dishes Izaya had set beside the sink. A not entirely comfortable, but maybe a sort of peaceful quiet descended over them while they partnered in the simple action of cleaning. Izaya was afraid to scrub too hard else he break that silence and make it strained.

To his relief, they both finished without bursting into a fit of rage and Izaya could mumble his thanks for dinner and head back up the stairs calling the night a relative success. He still hadn’t confronted his father about stealing the lock from his goddamn bedroom door — he was reminded again upon closing it behind him — but that could wait until he was prepared to deal with the consequences such a conversation would definitely bring forth.

Izaya dug through the school bag he’d left in the corner of his room until he could pull an almost empty bottle from the bottom of the bag, a single, final pill rattling around in its plastic confines. He unscrewed the lid of the container and tipped it into his mouth, swallowing the small round tablet dry. Recapping the now empty bottle, he buried it at the bottom of the bin under his desk, taking the time to ensure it was completely concealed by the scrunched up bits of paper also living there.

He had half a mind to lodge the chair by his desk under the handle of the door again like he had last night, if only for his peace of mind, but Izaya dismissed it and made for the warmth of his bed instead, burrowing under the covers until only the top of his hair could be seen from outside the blankets.

Izaya could tell that sleep would not come easy tonight, the creeping cold of the night air around him made sure of that. He silently prayed to whatever deity out there that may or may not exist might have mercy on him and let him sleep through the night, if not for himself then for the sake of anyone he might associate with the next day.

He wasn’t sure if it was the lingering paranoia that meant he could only lay in bed facing one direction (that of the door) that left him constantly moving and restless to any outside stimulus — an itch on his face, an itch behind his knee, kicking off the blankets because he was hot, regathering them because fuck he was cold. He wondered why Shinra even bothered prescribing him with one pill a night when the results were as useless as if he’d had nothing at all, no matter how long he waited.

And it was all the more infuriating that he’d been falling into short, dizzying bouts of almost unconsciousness all day; every chance he got to breath, his eyes were weighing closed and his breath evening out. But now that he lay warm and comfortable in his own bed with the sky dark outside — even if it was still only the early hours of the evening — he found it impossible to drift his way into any kind of sleep, like his heart was beating just a little bit too fast for his body to relax.

He could only breathe through it, keeping his eyes closed and opening them at intervals when the darkness became to much. It wasn’t until Izaya could watch the sun cast its rising glow over the door he’d been staring at for most of the night that he happened to keep his eyes closed for more than a few minutes, his brain finally winding down when it should be doing the opposite. He could feel the relief of sleep just over the horizon and relished the inevitability of it as he drifted closer and clos—

Izaya jerked awake at the sound of his alarm.

It was more painful being pulled from the brink of sleep than if he had fallen into it or never closed his eyes either one, he was sure of it.

He could cry.

Now rather than springing up from what had felt like an uncomfortable prison all night, with the restless energy that had prevented his rest, Izaya could feel the dark under his lashes, could feel the lethargy dissolved into the marrow of his bones that would leave him dragging his feet all day.

He sat up in his bed, let the covers fall from the top half of his body and leant over to turn off the alarm for the clock by his bedside.

What a shitty start to the day, he thought. Though it felt less like the beginning of a new 24 hours and more like an extension of yesterday, without the barrier of sleep to provide a distinct change in time, the days seemed to blur together; one exhausting hour at a time.

Izaya wondered if it would feel like this forever.

It was still early in the morning but Izaya could hear the sound of his father moving about on the first floor of the house and thought it better to get ready as quickly as possible and ward off the possibility of Shirou coming to knock at his door and command his presence.

Izaya stood from the bed and ever so reluctantly peeled his hoodie up and over his head to bare the pale of his skin to the cold morning air. Opening up the draw of his dresser, Izaya pulled out his white uniform shirt — the one he was supposed to be wearing along with the majority of the rest of the school — and pulled it over his shoulders, doing up each button one at a time, save for the top few; he’d need to do some washing if he was to wear his typical school getup the next day, he could only fit so many maroon coloured shirts into one draw. He didn’t have the rest of the uniform that usually accompanied his shirt; the pale blue school pants and blazer that Shizuo and his other friends wore. He pulled a black pair of jeans on instead, and slipped into the weight of his black middle school blazer. Retrieving his phone from his bedside and unplugging it from the charger, Izaya threw it into his bag and with it, left his room to make the descent to downstairs. The tenderness in his ankle had apparently gone down over night — surprisingly enough, considering he’d forgotten to ice it once he’d returned home — so it was able to support a greater portion of his weight than the day before, even if it wasn’t quite as much as he’d have liked to grant him the appearance of walking normally. A stuttering limp wasn’t exactly conducive to his reputation, but he supposed he was glad that he didn’t have to resort to using crutches.

He found his father already dressed and sitting at the table in the kitchen, scrolling through something on his phone with a mug of hot coffee in front of him. He looked up as Izaya entered the room, his expression slightly startled as his gaze landed over Izaya’s features.

“Rough night?” He asked, and Izaya internally cringed. Did he really look that bad? Apparently he did if it was obvious enough to garner what seemed like concern from Shirou.

“Yeah, I guess.” He murmured, voice a little scratchy from going unused for so long.

“I made you some coffee.” Shirou spoke, gesturing to the second steaming cup sitting at the table. It was Izaya’s turn to be surprised.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, taking a seat at the table across from his father. Izaya held the mug in both hands and let the heat warm his stiff fingers to life. He took a small sip from the cup, wary of the hot steam drifting up from it, and then gave in completely to swallow down big mouthfuls of scorching liquid, ignoring the way it made his tongue numb and left a trailing burn on its way down his throat. It was only once he was half way through the cup that he started to slow down and relish each small sip. He pulled out his phone from the bag he’d dropped beside him and scrolled through any emails he’d received through the night, his interest peaking at one from an associate he’d been conversing with in an effort to figure out what his father did for a living. The information hadn’t been too difficult to come across: he held shares in various successful companies throughout the city and even some overseas, his wealth steadily increasing with a position of management he’d taken in one of the most successful businesses in Tokyo. Izaya had also discovered that Shirou’s father, Izaya’s grandfather — with whom he’d never met — had recently passed away and in the process, passed on an incredibly large inheritance to his three sons, Shirou being one of them. And now Izaya had the satisfaction of having his information confirmed by a third party.

But there was something else too, something he couldn’t quite see. Izaya knew there was more to the story; he’d depleted almost every source of information regarding criminal activity involving his father over the years, but Shirou’s success in the economic business world would have only grown once he’d established his wealth from another source of income; no one just suddenly came into that much money. But Izaya could find no information on what Shirou’s occupation had been before he ventured into working at an elite class of society, on what he had been doing through the years since Izaya had last seen him disappear up until only a couple of years ago — when Shirou had bought his first share in a wealthy enterprise.

Even as a child he’d had not much of an idea at what his father had done for a living, his memory distorted at best and completely vacant at worst. There was also the martial arts, though it wasn’t uncommon for grown men to practice self defence, the level he’d exhibited was a little more than overkill for a business man. No, Shirou fought like he’d fought before. Shirou fought like Izaya always wished he could: cold, calculating and unmerciful. He had a kind of strength Izaya envied, maybe not as physically dependant and erratic and wild as Shizu-chan’s, but a kind of strength that came from determination, the kind that meant to kill.

Izaya put his phone back down onto the table and forced himself to finish what remained of his coffee, despite the nausea bubbling deep within his stomach.

“Can you drop me at school afterwards?” He found himself asking, testing the waters that were Shirou’s unpredictable mood swings.

“Sure.” He answered, relatively docile.

Great, he thought. Today will be a good one.

Izaya polished off the last of his drink with one final sip and stood from his chair. He collected both his and Shirou’s empty mugs from the their spot at the table and brought them over to the sink to rinse them out and set them upside down inside the dishwasher. Hearing his father also stand from the table behind him, Izaya made his way over to the front entrance of the house to collect his shoes. He’d managed to get his right shoe halfway over his foot before the still tender weight of his left became too much to balance himself over and he dropped to sit on the floor instead, slipping his only slightly swollen foot into the other shoe and tying the laces tight over each.

Shirou arrived by the door, expensive looking suit shoes already laced around his feet, and Izaya pushed himself up from the floor, taking care to stand using the one leg that would successfully support his weight. But Shirou must have noticed, because for all the effort Izaya put into keeping up a pretence of normal when he was walking, his father’s brows furrowed at that small action of pushing himself to upright with a single foot.

“What happened to your leg?” He asked, his expression one of confusion more that the concern his words set forth.

Izaya froze, his brain suddenly more awake and working double time to determine where this conversation would lead, what he should say, how much vulnerability it was safe to show and if it was better to be honest or lie. Conversations with Shirou were more exhausting than Izaya thought they really should be.

“I sprained my ankle yesterday.” He answered honestly, offering no further detail on how it happened or how bad it was; how much pain he was currently in and how difficult it would be to escape an attack should anyone decide to do so.

“How did you manage that?” He questioned, his tone casual enough that Izaya felt like he was simply asking because he was curious, rather than fishing for any kind of information.

“I was training for the relay at the sports carnival and a slipped on some wet grass.” He mumbled, feeling a little stupid admitting that he’d been brought down by his own lethargic limbs and a small patch of slippery ground; the memory was still fresh enough to rekindle that embarrassment every time he thought about it.

“You’re in the relay team?” He asked, his voice skipping the slightest bit higher on genuine surprise.

That was not what Izaya had expected at all. He’d been expecting a possible berating, maybe a roll of the eyes, and in the very distance of his mind, a smirk and the short huff of laughter.

“Yeah.” He responded, fighting to keep his voice level and read where his answers were leading him at one and the same time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shirou’s expression tightened on the first flicker of anger, but even then it only got as far as the start of slight frustration, maybe a little hurt, though Izaya thought he must have been reading the other man wrong.

“I… don’t know.” Izaya’s shoulder drew up on a careful shrug. “I didn’t think it was important.”

Shirou pulled open the door and Izaya followed him out onto the landing, waiting while he closed it behind him and used a key to turn the lock inside it.

“I think that’s pretty impressive,” Shirou refuted, “I was on the relay team when I was in high school, won it too. Every year.” Shirou continued as they both descended down the steps leading out onto the driveway. “First people I told were my parents.”

Izaya didn’t dare speak, he barely even breathed for fear he might bring attention to himself and remind Shirou of with whom he was currently sharing the most Izaya had ever heard from him, especially regarding his childhood. Though despite this, he was desperate for more, desperate to ask the questions he’d had trouble catching any glimpse of over the web of information he navigated in his spare time.

“When is the carnival?” Shirou asked, forcing Izaya to bring his voice out of silence.

“This weekend,” He answered warily, “They only told us about it a couple of days ago though.”

The car gave a short beep as Shirou unlocked it with the keys he still held in his hand and Izaya moved forward to open the passenger door while his father continued onto the other side. “That’s pretty late notice, but I guess that’s Raijin for you.” He commented before opening his own door and stepping into the car. Izaya followed and took his seat, pulling the door shut beside him.

“Did you got to Raijin?” He ventured carefully, thinking now was the best opportunity he was going to get to ask the question.

“Yeah, I did.”

Izaya nodded his head and filed that piece of information away for later, his search for more would be easier now that he had that to go off. He pulled his seatbelt across his body and fastened it into place at his side while Shirou did the same. The press of a button started the low rumble of the engine and his father backed the car out of the driveway. It was by far the nicest car he’d ever been in and Izaya took the time to appreciate it now, ghosting his touch over the leather seats and letting his gaze drift around its fancy interior. He kept silent for the rest of the ride but it didn’t feel as strained as he would have imagined, the casual conversation removing some sense of animosity between the two of them.

It wasn't long before they had pulled over onto the side of a quiet street in town and Shirou was letting the engine shudder to a stop. Izaya stepped out of the car and pushed the door shut behind him, waiting on the edge of the sidewalk until Shirou came around the locked car and began his walk to their destination, Izaya followed blindly behind him until he could catch up and walk with even steps beside him.

The funeral home was fancier than what Izaya had been expecting; all wooden arches lining what would be doorways and vases of colourful flowers adorning every surface. They stepped inside and were immediately welcomed by the only other person filling the space, a young woman with sleek black hair coming to rest just under her chin.

“Orihara-san.” She greeted, giving Izaya the impression that they had already spoken over the phone. “My name is Hayami. Please, follow me.” She spoke, gesturing to a small seating area further in the building with armchairs that looked comfortable enough to sleep in.

Of course that’s all I can think about, he mused.

They followed the woman, trailing in her wake and Izaya let himself drop into a seat beside Shirou. “I’ve put together some details for you based on what you told me over the phone, we’ll just need to confirm and finalise everything today.” She spoke in a soft voice, as if to compliment the quiet around them. She handed off a small folder of papers to Shirou who reached out to receive them with ease. Izaya watched her open to a page in another folder she held and put a pen to empty white space. “First, we need to confirm dates,” She announced, “Are you still set on this coming Sunday?”

Shirou lifted his gaze from the papers in his hands and turned it onto Izaya beside him. “Is that okay?” He asked, “What day is your sports carnival?”

“Saturday,” He replied numbly, glad he was getting a say in this, “So yeah, Sunday’s fine.”

Shirou and the Hayami moved on to further conversation but Izaya tuned most of it out, he could gather the important comments: that the service would be held at a small graveyard just out of town, where his mother’s parents had been buried, that the wake would take place in the local community hall nearby. Instead, he let his attention wander over the many coffins being showcased in the room they currently sat, feeling his throat get a little too tight to be entirely comfortable.

“Izaya.”

Izaya’s gaze was pulled back to his father with enough speed to jar his neck.

“We were just discussing what flowers to have.” He spoke soft, not in the slightest bit frustrated as Izaya’s wandering attention. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Lilies,” He suggested, moving his gaze to the dark haired woman across from him. “She always liked them,” He explained. And she did, Izaya could remember coming home to a vase full of them over the kitchen table every so often, and made sure to purchase the nicest looking bouquet of them he could find every time her birthday came around. It also made sense seeing as they symbolised motherhood and were commonly used at funerals anyway.

“Okay.” Shirou conceded, nodding to Hayami. “Lilies it is.”

Hayami smiled. “That sounds beautiful,” She assured them, “Now the last thing to do is pick out the coffin.”

Izaya’s breath stuttererd on an inhale. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t possibly use logic to pick out a box for his mother’s corpse to rot inside, for now and eternity, it was just too much. Shirou and Hayamai stood to walk towards the centre of the room where various caskets were being displayed. Izaya followed them.

“Our cheaper options start at the front of the room and increase in price as they go further back,” Hayami explained, “Please, take your time to look over them.” She offered, standing off to the side of the room to wait while Izaya and Shirou walked along the aisles of displays. Izaya dismissed most of the coffins set out closer to the front of the room, they looked cheap and uncaring, plastic and clinical. He knew his father could afford better anyway, so he moved past the pain wooden boxes, raw and unvarnished, and slowed his pace once he came across something a little more tasteful. They weren’t overly fanciful to the point of being garish, like the ones he could see further down the back of the room. These were sleek and elegant. Izaya stopped in front of one to carefully run his hand along the side of it, fingers softly trailing dark autumn oak and the gold embellishments lining the edges of it. It was something he thought his mother would have liked.

Izaya took a deep breath and cursed his eyes for turning glassy. He flinched when a hand came to rest at his shoulder.

“We’ll take this one.” His father spoke from beside him, seeming to understand without Izaya having to ask.

“Another good choice,” Hayami commented from the side of the room. They made their way back over to the seated area and Izaya sat quiet in his chair, breathing deeply and trying his best not to cry.

It wasn’t much longer before they were able to leave, Shirou had signed some papers and the final cost of everything had been calculated. Izaya struggled not to think about what he’d have done if Shirou hadn’t come back when he did, if he wasn’t here now with his seemingly never-ending supply of money; there was no way Izaya could have afforded any of this. Even with the money he made from his own work and the savings his mother had left him, his sisters and him would be starving within the week.

Izaya sighed an obvious breath of relief when they stepped out of the building and back onto the much less suffocating space of the street. He wordlessly followed Shirou back to where they had parked the car and by the time Izaya was buckling his seatbelt back into place, he almost felt a little embarrassed for very nearly crying in the middle of the funeral home, not to mention in the presence of his father. He could only hope he didn’t look as close to the brink as he had felt at the time.

The engine rumbled to life and Shirou pulled off of the curb and back out onto the street, beginning the short journey to his school. He wouldn’t even be as late as he had been expecting; looking down, the clock on his phone told him that only and hour or so had passed since the bells that signified the start of the school day would have rung. He’d probably end up arriving just after the start of morning break.

He’d barely been awake for more than a few hours and already felt just about ready to crawl back into bed. Izaya hoped that he could stumble his way through the remainder of the day without any new injuries to bare over his body; as this rate it felt like he was tearing holes in his body faster than they could heal.

Chapter Text

Shizuo was freaking out.

No, scratch that. He was about to fucking implode, the nervous energy his every muscle radiated mixing to form some kind of a volatile radioactive concoction that he was sure would be the end of him any second now.

He could barely sleep last night, the deep seeded dread that had taken root in his stomach wouldn’t leave him be for more than a moment to breathe. He thought it would be better once he could get out of his house and sprint the way to school — in which doing so garnered the wary attention of all other occupants in his house — to find Izaya their too; safe and sound and ready to ease Shizuo’s irrationally guilty conscience back into something close to normal.

But that hadn’t been the case.

Shizuo had arrived to a classroom devoid of Izaya, an entire school utterly empty of his presence. And the almost nausea twisting inside his body only increased as the day went on, as the hours unfolded without Izaya there to make them bearable. Something bad had happened, Shizuo knew it. And he would be held responsible for whatever it was; if not literally then by the vice of his own mind, which he could argue was worse than anything else.

Shizuo’s eyes hadn’t left the closed door for the last 40 minutes he’d been sitting in his class. Despite the fact that it was history, a class he didn’t even share with Izaya, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

He should have listened to his instincts. He shouldn’t have left him alone.

When the bell rang for morning break, Shizuo all but fell out of his seat in an effort to leave the room before anyone else. He had to go. He had to do something, even if that something involved running all the way to Izaya’s house in the middle of the school day. He had to share his concerns with his friends first; though Shizuo was sure nothing they could say right now would change his mind, he felt they still deserved to know.

Shizuo took two stairs at a time going up to the door that lead to the roof of the building where they usually took their breaks, sparing no time pulling the door open and letting it swing shut behind him.

“Guys, I think something is wrong wi-”

Shizuo paused, his words falling flat on themselves as his gaze came to land on the back of a dark head of hair.

“Izaya!” That was Shinra, the singsongy lilt of his voice coming from where he sat on the concrete just in front of his friend. “Where have you been?” He asked animatedly, as though Izaya had only just walked through the door moments before Shizuo himself. Shizuo stepped forward, glad his outburst had gone for the most part unnoticed, his friends attention otherwise occupied by Izaya’s arrival. “We thought you may have been too angry to come back to school after missing the excursion yesterday.” Shinra teased and Shizuo’s fists clenched at his sides, he couldn’t blame them for acting like everything was normal, it was only Shizuo’s fucked up paranoia that left him thinking the absolute worst of every situation. For him it felt like this had been a close call, like it was a miracle Izaya was alive and well at all — which he knew sounded nothing short of ridiculous — but for his friends, he’d simply been late to class, and only by a few hours, with probably a perfectly good reason for doing so. Shizuo wondered why he couldn’t think that, he wondered if there was something wrong with him, some kind of an emotional instability that came as a two for one with his anomalous strength.

“No,” Izaya huffed a short laugh, “I had fun without you yesterday.” He teased right back and Shizuo flushed, his entire body heating up without permission.

He had fun?

….with me?

Unless he was talking about a portion of the day that hadn’t been spent with Shizuo.

“Huh, that’s weird.” Shinra voiced, finally coming to see the blonde stood at the edge of their group. “Ah, Shizuo!” He chirped by way of greeting, and Shizuo watched Izaya stiffen to whip his head around to where Shizuo stood just out of his view; eyes wide enough and face flushed red enough for Shizuo to know that the comment hadn’t been meant for his ears.

Izaya turned back and away from the blonde with a petulant huff of air, and Shizuo had to stifle a smirk at the childish display.

“So where were you then?” Shinra asked again, standing up from his spot on the concrete to better address the other, his expression finally twitching on the slightest bit of concern.

Izaya sighed, “At the funeral planning service, if you must know.” He relented, dropping his school bag to the concrete below him.

“Oh.” Shinra offered, wide eyed and regretful. “Izaya…” Shinra stepped forward with outstretched arms before Izaya could spare a moment to retreat. Shizuo watched in slight surprise as Shinra caught the other in his arms and pulled him into a tight hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders while Izaya’s hung limp at his sides. “We’re all here for you if you want to talk you know.” He offered with more enthusiasm than what Shizuo thought was really appropriate. He watched in even more surprise as Izaya’s set scowl and hard glare eventually melted to something near contentment; he brought his arms up from his sides to wrap around Shinra’s waist and let his chin come to rest on the other’s shoulder, his reciprocation of the affection Shinra was offering only seeming to make the other boy hug him a little bit tighter.

Shizuo watched Kadota stand from his spot on the ground in a sudden burst of movement and and come to let his hand weight against Izaya’s back in a not-as-affectionate source of reassurance; and Shizuo was left somewhere out on the edge, stuck between desperately wanting to offer his own and too awkward to do more than breathe quietly. He wanted to hug Izaya, he wanted to stop him from being sad. But Shizuo couldn’t find the words to express that.

Not to mention, he was terrified of what that meant.

Maybe there really is something wrong with me…

When Shizuo felt like he could awkwardly linger no more, self consciousness got the better of him and he walked forward, letting himself drop to the ground where Shinra and Kadota had been sitting beforehand. The others pulled back from their embrace after what Shizuo thought was far longer than necessary, and returned to their seats on the concrete. Shizuo startled when Izaya came to sit by his side, close enough to feel the air rush by his arm as the other gracefully dropped himself to the ground.

“What, no hug from Shizu-chan?” Izaya drawled, a grin stretching his face. Shizuo knew he was just making fun of his obvious discomfort, but the unthinking joke stung like the edge a blade across his chest. He just hoped that Izaya couldn’t see the reason behind it probably wasn’t the one he thought.

“Like you need it.” Shizuo scoffed, keeping his eyes trained on the bottom of his school bag as he made a lackluster attempt to search for his food. “How’s your ankle?” He asked in an effort to change the subject, and only realised after the fact that it probably wasn’t normal for him to be asking for insight on anything to do with Izaya’s wellbeing other than how to make it worse.

“Better,” Was all Izaya offered.

“What happened to your ankle?” Shinra chimed in, curiosity lighting at the smallest of sparks.

“I hurt it when we were training yesterday.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

“That reminds me,” Shizuo quickly interrupted, “We don’t have to train today, the teacher said to give your ankle time to heal before we start again.”

“How generous of him.” Izaya mumbled, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans to fiddle with something while he spoke. “The funeral’s this Sunday, by the way.” He murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re all invited to come, if you feel like it.”

“Of course.” Shinra spoke, pausing for only a second.

“Yeah, we’ll be there.” Kadota followed.

Shizuo sat very still and wondered if Izaya’s invitation extended to him. He hoped it did, but wishful thinking had yet to get him anywhere.

“Shizuo?”

Everyone was staring at him, with the exception of Izaya still stuck to the screen of his phone. “Yeah?” He answered, a little unnerved at the two pairs of eyes so intently trained on him.

“Aren’t you going to say you’ll go too?” Shinra prompted and Shizuo’s cheeks went hot.

“I didn’t think I was invited.” He responded, thinking it better to shrug off the possibility than make the assumption he was.

“I said everyone, didn’t I?” Izaya muttered, annoyed at having to repeat himself but without extricating his gaze from the screen in front of him.

“Oh,” Shizuo answered softly, the relief bound to be evident in his voice alone, “I’ll go then.”

No one spoke again, aside from Shinra’s answering smile, and everyone went back to eating their food. Shizuo pulled a small packet of strawberry pocky from his bag and tore open the plastic containing it.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Izaya?” Shinra ventured, finally bringing Izaya’s attention away from his phone. Izaya looked around the circle as if he’d only just noticed now that the main reason for their break demanded the appearance of food. Izaya frowned.

“I forgot to bring anything.”

Shinra frowned in turn and opened his mouth, Shizuo could see Izaya’s own drop further on irritation before Shinra had yet to say something, no doubt about how regular meals were important, he shouldn’t be starving himself and he’d lost too much weight to be healthy over the last few months — all of which were true, but Shizuo doubted bringing them up now would better anyone’s mood. He successfully interrupted the brunette by forcing the open packet of pocky in front of Izaya.

Shinra’s mouth closed in time with his eyes going the slightest bit wider, along with the other’s around him, at least from what Shizuo could see in his peripheral vision with his gaze still being trained on the dark concrete in front of him.

“Thanks.” Izaya finally mumbled, just before Shizuo had been about to pull back and tell him to forget it. He picked a few pieces from the bag and placed one in his mouth, biting off the end with a small grimace. “It’s so sweet.” He complained.

“Shizuo or the pocky?” Shinra asked, smiling around a mouthful of rice. Shizuo glared at the offending boy, one to match Izaya’s own, making Shinra swallow down his food quickly so he could laugh. “Just joking.” He amended, waving his hands in a placating gesture.

Shizuo went back to chewing his food and despite his complaints, watched Izaya finish the rest of his own.

“Hey!” Shinra blurted with all the sudden force of his bubbly personality. “We should do something to work on the festival after school. Like go to someone’s house and plan stuff like last time.”

Everyone nodded around him, if a little hesitantly, and Shizuo followed in their lead. “I can’t be out late though.” Izaya spoke tentatively, glancing off to the side as his mouth moved around the words. Shizuo dropped his gaze to watch the other use the tip of his finger to trace cracks in the concrete below them.

“That’s fine,” Shinra chirped, “So, who’s house should we go to?” Shinra frowned at the lack of enthusiasm and suggestions at once. “Well, it can’t be mine, we did my place last time.”

“I have some younger cousins staying for a while, so I’d like to get away from them if at all possible.” Kadota explained. Shinra didn’t look very sympathetic. He turned to Izaya’s bowed head instead.

“What about you Iza—”

“No.” Izaya interrupted before the brunette could finish his question, speaking loud over the other with his shoulders drawn up under the weight of his jacket, as if to make a protective barrier between himself and Shinra’s words.

“Ah, alright,” Shinra conceded, “A compelling argument.” He half heartedly joked, but knew not to push the matter too hard or demand a better explanation. “Well, that leaves you Shizuo.”

Shizuo opened his mouth and closed it again, searching for the time to think of an excuse that wouldn’t sound as flimsy out loud as it did in his head. “My… room is messy?” He finally settled on, his hesitation forcing it to fall as more of a question than anything else.

“Great! Shizuo’s house it is!”

Shizuo sighed forlornly and twitched as Izaya chuckled beside him. He’d never had anyone over to his house before, not even as a child for play dates, the very idea leaving him to feel a little uncomfortable. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to act? Should he be worried about bringing his former enemy into his family home to potentially gather information that could be later used against him? Why was that really the last thing on his mind?

Break didn’t last as long as Shizuo would have liked, the time seeming to fly by quicker than usual now that he wasn’t spending every second of it drowning in anxiety. They packed up their food and retreated down the rooftop steps to head back towards the inside halls of the school. Shizuo followed Shinra quietly as the others broke off to find their own classes, knowing he shared his next one with the bespectacled boy beside him. They took their seats inside the classroom and head in his hand, Shizuo found himself wishing he’d made more of an effort to be better at English than he had in the past, then maybe he wouldn’t be stuck with Shinra right now, maybe he’d be able to file in with the kids of the more advanced class and listen to Izaya read books as fluently as though it was his own language.

“So,” Shinra chirped from beside the blonde; Shizuo had listened to him drag his desk over to be closer to Shizuo’s own, disrupting the order of the classroom and effectively cutting off the aisle the teacher used to wander down the room and peer over the pages of his distracted students.

“So what?” Shizuo answered, ignoring the way Shinra leant over his desk to perch his elbows on Shizuo’s own, invading his personal space in every sense of the word.

“Did you hang out with Izaya yesterday?”

Shizuo’s brow twitched. “That’s none of your business.” He replied

“That’s basically a yes.” Shizuo willed his blood to pool in a place that wasn’t the heat of his cheeks.

“It’s not like either of us really had a choice.”

“Sure.” Shinra drawled. “He said he had fun, does that mean it was a disaster?”

“Hah.” Shizuo laughed, amusement bursting from him in a sudden huff of air. “I guess it was.” He let his thoughts wind back to 24 hours earlier, it had been a disaster, but it had also been the most fun he’d had in a very long time. When was the last time he’d laughed like that? When had he ever laughed like that? “We cooked together and I set myself of fire, we burnt the food, burnt both of our hands and then got kicked out of the room.” Shinra’s eyes widened. “And that was only in the first class.” He finished.

“Shizuo…”

“What?” He asked, Shinra’s wary tone taking him by surprise.

“You’re smiling.”

He was, he brought the tips of his fingers up to trace the curve over his lips just in case, and then self consciousness immediately got the better of him and he frowned, his face heating up in a show embarrassment. “Shut up, Shinra.”

“I can’t believe this.” Shinra blurted, smiling enthusiastically. “You had fun too! Could it be that you too are getting closer after all, is a budding friendship on the horizon?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He answered, using his thumb and forefinger to flick the centre of Shinra’s head with as little strength as he could muster; it still sent the brunette reeling back and off the support of his hands.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Shinra spoke, rubbing the red blooming over the skin on his head. “I always wanted you two to be friends. He’s not so bad once you get to know him, is he?”

“That’s only because he hasn’t been provoking me.” Shizuo defended himself, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what from. He thought back to yesterday, to the irritating note, to the intentional smirks and teasing and how that wasn’t exactly true. Izaya had been provoking him — if not as seriously as usual — and Shizuo had retaliated, even going so far as to hurt him without really meaning to, but at least he felt worse about it than he ever had in the past, that had to count for something right?

After a stern warning from the teacher, Shinra was forced to extricate his desk from Shizuo’s own and line it back up with the rest of the class; only then did Shizuo feel like he could breathe a little easier, away from prying questions he didn’t have the answers to and prying eyes that searched for the things he’d rather keep hidden.

The rest of Shizuo’s classes alternated between between dragging on incredibly slow and speeding up to feverish fast, the time left to the day slipping through his fingers like sand, until Shizuo was stepping outside to breathe the cool air of the school courtyard and finding his friends +1 waiting for his arrival by the gate to lead them away from it.

On the walk home, Shizuo couldn’t seem to decide whether he was slightly nervous, decidedly apprehensive or a just little bit excited, his body pulling him in all directions at once and leaving him ultimately confused as to what feeling was the most genuine.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous around any one person before and Shizuo started to wonder if it had always been like this, if every other emotion he felt in Izaya’s presence just went unnoticed in light of the crushing rage that overwhelmed it.

So if I take that away, is this what’s left?

…………………………………………………

Izaya glanced once again at the message he’d sent maybe three hours ago that had yet to be read by his father.

[12:21] Izaya: Is it okay if I spend time with some classmates after school to plan for the festival?

He was starting to doubt the accuracy of the number he’d received, even if Shirou had only given it to him that morning. Of course there was the chance that he’d read the message and was choosing to ignore it, the possibility making Izaya wary as to what was expected of him in such a situation. Was it better to be safe than sorry? To ask for permission than plead for forgiveness? Neither had ever been Izaya’s way of thinking, but now…

Now, his decisions had unpredictable consequences. Now, they had worse consequences. Not to mention, he couldn’t afford to think only of himself as he had in the past; the wellbeing of people he cared about — namely his sisters — were potentially riding on the outcome of his decisions.

Izaya hoped to god that he’d get a straight answer, and a good one at that, seeing as he’d already agreed to going along with it. If he turned back now, on their walk to Shizuo’s house without a very good excuse, he was sure to garner suspicion and maybe even a little frustration. So Izaya slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued walking ahead with Shinra at his side and the other pair in front of him.

He didn’t have to wait long. Barely a minute later, and his pocket buzzed for his attention.

[3:35] Shirou: Yes, that’s fine. Don’t be home too late. No need to worry about picking up the girls, I’m going to get them now.

Izaya shivered. Ke knew he probably had little reason to think anything might happen to them in his father’s company, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d never feel safe around that man, no matter how much they seemed to get along. Izaya sighed in an effort to forcibly relax his body, his father didn’t seem to have anything against his sisters anyway, it was Izaya he was out for. Not to mention, he had to of known that if he came home to a hair out of place on either of their heads, he’d kill the son of a bitch himself.

“You alright?” Izaya’s attention shifted up from the ground he had been watching his feet move over — focussing on the little bursts of pain that radiated from his still sore ankle — to Shinra beside him.

“Yeah.” Izaya answered, confused as to why the question had been asked, he was sure he’d been making the effort to walk more or less normally. “Why?”

“You look tired.” Shinra observed.

Izaya hummed in agreement. “I am tired.”

“Too much sleep or not enough?” He asked like a warning, and Izaya answered carefully.

“Not enough.” That could hold true for last night at least.

“I suppose you could take one and a half of those tablets now. If one is really having no effect on you.” Shinra offered, and Izaya had to quiet his internal scream else it break from the confines of his own body. He couldn’t say he’d tried that and more, he couldn’t say he’d already depleted his supply in less than a week, that he was sure nothing short of electrotherapy could coerce his mind into a healthy schedule of sleep. He smiled instead, hoping it didn’t look too forced.

“Okay, thanks.” He replied, and Shinra remained apparently oblivious to the unsteady mix of frustration and hopelessness bubbling over the edge of Izaya’s control.

Izaya took the next few minutes of quiet walking, save for a soft conversation between Shizuo and Kadota in front of him, to calm his breathing and regain some semblance of control over his emotions. So when they all finally came to a stop in front of a fairly ordinary looking house on a nondescript street, Izaya could lift his gaze from the pavement with eyes clear of anything other than the dull ache of exhaustion he couldn’t quite hide no matter how hard he tried.

The door had been left unlocked, leading Izaya to believe somebody else was there, the suspicion only confirmed when Shizuo stepped through the entrance to call I’m home into the space inside. Izaya followed the others into the house so Shizuo could then push the door shut behind them. He followed his friends in bending over to undo his laces and slip off the weight of his shoes to leave them pushed aside where the other’s sat.

As they moved further into the house, Izaya took the chance to take in his surroundings, to let his gaze travel over the things that made proof of Shizuo’s existence. There were family photos hanging on display, a young, dark haired Shizuo and his even younger brother with their arms wrapped around each other, some baby pictures and a few childish drawings that had been framed and placed upon the wall. The house itself definitely felt smaller than Izaya’s own, but he thought that had more to do with the obvious warmth this place radiated, the pieces of life it held that brought it close to being cluttered, but mostly made Izaya’s own feel kind of cold and empty.

They were led into the living area and a smaller version of what looked like Shizuo himself stepped out of the kitchen, his gaze running over the extra occupants of his house with a calculating sort of apathy. “Welcome home.” He greeted, seemingly unfazed by the addition of guests, despite the fact that Shizuo had yet to bring friends back to his home in all the years he’d been alive, Izaya was almost sure of that.

“Hey,” Shizuo offered his younger brother, “These are some of my—” Shizuo hesitated, “Friends… from school.” He finished, gesturing to the group behind him.

“Guys, this is Kasuka, my little brother.” He then turned to address the three of them, gesturing behind himself to the smaller brown haired boy still stood there. “We’ll just be in the lounge room.” He explained to his brother, and moved to take a seat on the carpet of the room, his back leant against the bottom of the couch placed in the centre of the space. Shinra took a seat beside him at the base of the sofa and Kadota across from them both, independent in his seat on the floor. Izaya moved between Shinra and Shizuo, to sit on the couch itself, he crawled over its soft surface and came to sit directly behind Shinra so he could dangle each leg over the other’s shoulders and let his sock clad feet come to rest in the brunette’s lap.

Shinra laughed and took the opportunity to capture Izaya’s ankle in his hold, inspecting any visible damage. The skin had mostly returned back to its normal colour and was only slightly swollen in one spot but Shinra rolled up the bottom of Izaya jeans and down the top half of Izaya’s sock anyway, poking and prodding at the skin there while Izaya stifled a wince.

“So, what do we need to plan?” Shizuo asked into the group, interrupting the exchange with a sidelong glance at the boys beside him. Shinra let go of Izaya’s ankle to reach for his school bag instead; Izaya relaxed back against the couch and started to play with the ends of Shinra’s hair, twirling a brown lock around his finger until it formed a curl.

“We should design a sign for the cafe and make a finalised list of things we need to buy.” Shinra explained pulling a notebook from his bag and emptying his pencil case onto the carpet. “Here.” He offered passing a coloured pen to each of his friends, across the floor and handing one to Izaya back over his head. He let go of the brunettes hair to grasp the pen instead.

“So we’re still set on that idea then?” Izaya asked, sighing with preemptive contempt. He had been hoping the conclusion to their last meeting had been more of a joke than anything else.

“Of course we are!” Shinra chirped. “We drew for it fair and square after all.”

Izaya resisted the urge to sigh again, it was probably best he didn’t express exactly how much he resented the idea after all. Izaya watched from over Shinra’s shoulder as the other began writing down the scaffold for a list.

“So, how much are we willing to spend?”

“Zero yen.” Shizuo joked from beside them, though by his tone and the look on his face, Izaya thought him to be as apprehensive about the entire ordeal as Izaya was himself.

“Don’t be silly.” Shinra reprimanded, “You have to spend money to make money.”

“But we won’t be making money.” Shizuo argued, “Are you seriously telling me they’re going to let us keep whatever we make? If we make anything to begin with, who wants to go to a cafe with boys in maid costumes?” He asked bitterly, like the very idea left a bad taste in his mouth, and Izaya was suddenly reminded of the very reason he’d went along with the idea in the first place.

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed Shizu-chan~” Izaya drawled, “I’m sure your classmates will be just as horrified as you.” Shizuo’s fist clenched around the pen in his hand and before he could break it, threw it in Izaya’s direction. Izaya caught it with a smooth upward arc of his arm, anticipating the movement before he’d even thrown the insult Shizuo’s way. Izaya had his hand raised again to throw the pen back when Shizuo’s younger brother stepped into the room, a tray of full glasses balanced in his hands. Izaya lowered his arm.

“Oh, thanks.” Shizuo murmured as Kasuka handed off a glass of cold water to each of his guests. Izaya grasped his own with eager hands.

“Thank you little Shizu-chan” He lilted, watching Kasuka’s face remain impressively blank.

“Just ignore him, Kasuka.” Shizuo spoke from his spot on the floor, voice tense around the words leaving his mouth. Kasuka’s gaze didn’t leave his own and Izaya held it with all the offhand amusement he could manage, not in the least intimidated by the younger boy’s lack emotion. He was difficult to read, having perfected a mask of apathy — else he really was just dead inside — and Izaya had to marvel at the chasm of difference in his and his older brother’s personality. Shizuo was unpredictable but he was also an open book when it came to how he felt about something, his emotions always so clearly written over his face. Izaya only had to hold Kasuka’s patient if not observant expression for a moment longer. Kasuka smiled, his lips quirking up on an abrupt smirk of amusement that left Izaya’s own expression strained with invisible uneasiness. Izaya could see Shizuo’s jaw drop into surprise just out of his direct line of sight.

Kasuka turned away from Izaya and left the room with the tray still in hand and his small smile still in place.

Interesting, he internally mused, taking a sip of his water before placing the glass on the ground beside and below him. Kadota asked for a blank page of paper he could use to sketch out a sign — no doubt to move the entire process along a little more quickly — and Shinra handed it off to him; Izaya busied himself by playing with Shinra’s glasses, bringing either hand down on each side of the brunette’s face to slip them off his ears and place them over his own. “Izaya, I can’t see without those!” He complained, trying his best to swallow the smile threatening his mouth.

“My, my.” Izaya said, squinting through the blur of the glass shadowed over his gaze. “You really can’t.”

“Give it.” Shinra demanded, fumbling up and behind himself in an effort to reach the glasses adorning Izaya’s face; Izaya laughed at the pathetic attempt.

“Are we going to actually plan now, or what?” Shizuo suddenly growled from his spot on the ground, arms crossed tight over his chest in a show of irritation. Izaya only caught his glare for a moment before the other turned away to stare at something else in the room instead, his mood having turned sour for no discernible reason, or at least none that Izaya could see.

“Yes, of course we are.” Shinra answered bringing pen to his page even without the aid of his vision. Izaya removed the glasses from his face and placed them back onto their rightful owner’s, carefully sitting the stems over either of Shinra’s ears.

“Thankyou.” Shinra chirped, like Izaya hadn’t been the one to steal them in the first place. “So, what do we think we’ll need?” He asked, to no-one in particular,

“No idea.” Shizuo muttered, still obviously irritated over something of which Izaya had no clue, other than the probability that his very presence was putting Shizuo in a bad mood. He watched Shizuo lean his head back against the bottom of the couch and took the opportunity to move from his spot behind Shinra, drawing his legs back to crawl across the sofa and stop behind Shizuo instead. His movement drew sound from the soft surface below him and Izaya watched as Shizuo opened one eye to stare up at dark haired boy leaning over him. Izaya smirked.

“What are you doing?” Shizuo asked, his tone a warning and a dare to Izaya all at once. Izaya steadied himself in his spot and moved his legs out to drape them over Shizuo’s shoulders like he’d done with Shinra, but Shizuo wasn’t so relenting in the act, he immediately brought a hand out to bat away one of Izaya’s legs, and catch the other — his injured one, he could distantly recall — just below the knee, far from the point of his pain. “Get lost!” He growled, doing his best to push Izaya’s legs away from his body without actually hurting the other; but Izaya was nothing if not persistent and managed to scoot forward over the couch until the back of Shizuo’s head shifted further between his legs and Izaya could bring his thighs close to tense around Shizuo’s throat in an impromptu sort of chokehold, his legs crossed over the front of Shizuo’s chest and one knee dug into the soft skin at the front of his neck.

“For fuck sake.” He growled again, moving to pry Izaya’s thighs away from their constricting place around his neck. Izaya just laughed, holding his position in an act of defiance until he finally let go of the muscles in his legs to let Shizuo breath unrestricted, thankfully before the other decided to use even half of his full strength to forcibly detach them himself. Izaya didn’t bother fully removing them, only parted them further to leave more space for Shizuo’s head so he could then let his legs dangle over the other’s shoulders like he’d initially intended. Shizuo seemed to know better than to try and move them this time, admitting his defeat and settling for the weight of Izaya’s thighs on either shoulder and the balls of his feet pressed over the pale blue of his wrinkled school pants.

Izaya was distantly aware of the other boy’s gazes silently locked in their direction, he wondered if that was what was making Shizuo fidget so much, picking at the skin on his hands like it was the only distraction he could muster.

“We’ll need cups if we’re making milkshakes.” Izaya offered, pulling Shinra and Kadota away from their wide eyed stares.

“R-right.” Shinra stuttered, quickly dropping his gaze to the page in front of him so he could put what looked like scribble into his list. Izaya went back to busying his hands by playing with the hair in front of him, this time reaching for Shizuo’s golden locks. It was softer than Izaya had been anticipating, no more rough or brittle for the bleach it would have no doubt been soaked in. He pulled harder than he had on Shinra’s hair too, yanking knots free with a carelessness that was sure to set Shizuo’s teeth on edge.

“Quit it.” The blonde mumbled, swinging a hand back behind himself to bat Izaya’s own away like a particularly irritating fly. “And milk.” The blonde offered to Shinra beside him.

“Good job, Shizu-chan.” Izaya congratulated the other, his voice heavy and laden with sarcasm. “Is that all you ever think about?”

"Shut up.” Shizuo bit back, without making any more of an attempt to forcibly remove Izaya’s hands from the back of his hair. Izaya could feel more than see Shinra’s gaze re-centre on him and was proved mostly right when he caught the brunette looking away just as Izaya brought his head up to glance in his direction. Kadota’s on the other hand seemed to be glued to the page in front of him where Izaya could tell he was sketching out lines on the paper.

“Shizu-chan needs to brush his hair more often.” Izaya chided the other, making a point of pulling hard on a wavy lock that had met to tangle with another. Shizuo hissed in discomfort.

“You’re probably making it worse.” He snapped, instinctively pulling away from the other’s hands at his hair.

“Im not.” Izaya bit back, his grip unfaltering, even if it was softening to something a little less like a particularly nasty hairdresser. Shizuo leant his head back with a grumble of a warning to ‘not pull so hard’, but otherwise let Izaya continue to detangle the thick almost curls with a more gentle hand than he had before, the one he used on his sister’s late at night before bed or early in the morning before school, if only to prevent Shizuo from pulling away again, to let Izaya have something to brace his focus on that wasn’t the strange burning building in his chest.

But being gentle with anyone, especially Shizuo was thirty business.

“Shizu-chan, can you pass me my water?” Izaya asked, pointing at his glass left on the ground beside Shinra and just out of his own reach.

“No.” Shizuo answered, keeping his arms folded across his chest and his gaze pointedly elsewhere.

Izaya huffed and made another attempt to reach the glass without removing his legs from Shizuo’s shoulders or toppling over the front of the couch. He was unsuccessful. Turning to glare at the back of Shizuo’s head, he instead leant forward to grasp the blonde’s glass in closer range.

“Hey!” Shizuo called as Izaya quickly lifted the glass and stifled his hesitation in bringing it to his lips. “That’s mine!” Izaya ignored Shizuo’s exclamation and dodged the hand that reached out to grab at the glass, managing to minimise the spill of liquid onto his pants to a few drops of ice cold. He pressed the rim of the cup to the edge of his lip and tipped up to swallow down a mouthful of cool water. Shizuo growled but ultimately dropped his hand back to his lap, accepting loss with Izaya’s first sip. Izaya made a point of gulping down more than he needed, so when he brought the glass back from his mouth, he was left gasping an inhale of air and the glass was left with less than half of what it had originally held. The fact that Izaya felt almost sick with water log was beside the point.

“Here,” Izaya offered, bringing the almost empty glass down in front of Shizuo’s face, “I saved some for you.”

Shizuo growled an incoherent response and tugged the cup away from Izaya’s hands with a rough force that left him spilling another precious mouthful over his lap; Izaya moved his feet away just in time to avoid the splash of contact. “Fucking hell.” He muttered, but lifted the glass to his mouth all the same and Izaya’s jaw went slack in a moment of surprise; he’d been expecting Shizuo to drop the drink back to his side, or at least grumble protest at drinking from the same vessel as Izaya just had, but there was no hesitation in the swift lift of his arm; he let the imprint of Izaya’s lips meet his own like it was the most natural thing in the world. The obvious familiarity made his breath catch and his stomach warm to uncomfortable depths, especially at the memory of Shizuo doing the same thing earlier that week with the bottle he’d let Izaya drink from.

The sharp snort of amusement from his right forced Izaya’s attention away from his rising internal panic. “What’s so funny?” He asked Shinra, smiling through clenched teeth.

The brunette waved his hand, dismissing Izaya’s irritation like it was unnecessary to anything the other hand to say. “I was just thinking,” He started, “I used to be really worried that you guys would end up hurting each other for real, but now you bicker like you’re married and I forget why I was ever worried to begin with.”

Izaya felt more than saw Shizuo’s throat constrict on a swallow of water, the blonde’s head coming forward as he choked on the last of the liquid in his throat and sprayed it out of his mouth onto his lap. Izaya burst into laughter, his discontent over Shinra’s comment put on hold for the pull of Shizuo and the undivided attention his current situation demanded. Shizuo coughed and spluttered in an effort to clear his lungs of the water he’d no doubt filled them with on accident. Izaya brought his hand down hard on Shizuo’s back, repeating the action in a gesture of goodwill that was only slightly undermined by the laughter still slipping free of his throat; even Kadota was chuckling under his breath, Izaya could hear him making the unnecessary effort of holding it back.

Izaya sighed, his laughter finally dying out as Shizuo’s coughing subsided to make way for gasping inhales instead. “I’m genuinely worried for your future relationships if your think any married couple should be fighting as much as me and Shizu-chan do.” Izaya drawled, making a show of feigning amusement at Shinra’s comment rather than the mortification he truly felt.

Shizuo placed his empty glass back on the ground once his breathing had evened out to something like normal and Izaya had to wonder whether he’d managed a full sip of water between Izaya drinking most of it, spilling the rest of it and then Shizuo choking on the last of it. He thought about offering his own full glass still by Shinra’s side, but ultimately decided against it.

The afternoon shifted by quicker than Izaya could keep track of; he’d only been offering intermittent additions to Shinra’s list while the brunette wrote everything down, but by the time he lifted his attention from the back of Shizuo’s head between his legs, where he’d been twisting the hair into small braids, to look out the window behind him, the sky was beginning to darken with the first early hours of evening, the sun slipping down over the horizon to leave it streaked in oranges and pinks as vibrant as they had seemed to be for the last week, like Izaya couldn’t remember them ever being before.

It felt like they’d accomplished very little, but Shinra seemed satisfied with the completed list of supplies and the draft of a sign Kadota had drawn up for the stall, of which he insisted they’d create together after a visit to the nearest craft store the next time they decided to regroup. They shuffled together at the entrance of the house with their decided departure, Izaya slipped back into his shoes before bracing himself to follow the other’s into the cold outside where they paused to offer goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow!” Shinra chirped to his friends, his energy ever-present even through to the end of the day.

“See ya.” Kadota offered, turning to follow in Shinra’s trail and reminding Izaya of the inevitability in which he was to spend his journey home without company, through no fault of his own other than the direction he lived in. He sighed as he watched the other’s go, the blow of his breath clouding cold in front of him. Izaya shifted his feet in the direction of the path he was to travel, before turning back to Shizuo behind him so he could offer token thanks or farewells or whatever it was he felt the situation demanded of him. Shizuo was closer than he’d been anticipating, having abandoned his spot near the front gate of his house to move towards Izaya instead, coming to stand beside him on the path as though he made to walk Izaya the rest of the way home despite already being home himself.

“What are you doing?” Izaya asked with more incredulous bite than he’d been meaning to offer.

Shizuo hesitated, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing himself. “Walking you home?”

Izaya huffed a laugh of disbelief more than amusement. “You’re already home, you idiot.” He chided the other without any real force. Shizuo grimaced like he was in pain, glancing back at his own home warm and waiting behind him, to the sunset lit street ahead of them, marking out Izaya’s own route home, and then down to Izaya himself. Izaya frowned, Shizuo’s apparent distress over the situation, making him feel bad for reasons beyond him. “It’s barely dark yet, no one’s going to try and kidnap me on my way home.” Izaya tried to convince him, if only in an effort to tamp down on the urge to accept Shizuo’s unnecessary offer out of what he could only assume was a pathetic sense of loneliness.

“Are you sure?” Shizuo asked,

“Yes.” Izaya rolled his eyes, how delicate did Shizuo think he was? Even if he was attacked on his walk home alone it wasn’t like he couldn’t defend himself almost just as well as Shizuo, and if it came down to it, he was sure as hell he could run faster. Izaya took a step forward out onto the path siding the street, and another, only turning back after the third to offer a small wave in Shizuo’s direction. “Bye, Shizu-chan.”

“Bye,” Shizuo replied. And then again, before Izaya had fully turned around, “You can message me later,” A pause, “If you want.”

Izaya couldn’t answer immediately, genuine surprise having blown the second nature that was language clear from his head. “Um… okay.” He answered, still processing what the other had said, the implication behind the offer, the idea that Shizuo wanted to talk to him. Izaya turned away with a sharp swing of his head, unsure as to what kind of expression he was wearing and feeling it best to hide it. He moved forward and resisted the urge to glance back and see if Shizuo was still there watching him all the way along the street, only granting himself the opportunity once he’d turned the corner and let Shizuo’s house disappear from view.

It was a cold walk home, the wind picking up as the sky turned darker, as the sun dipped lower, and Izaya had never really seen the divide between being alone and being lonely, but now that he knew the company of someone else on these long walks home, he was sure that what he was feeling now, watching the orange tinted sky bleed out into dark, could only be described as lonely.

Chapter Text

It was completely dark by the time Izaya had rounded the corner to step onto his street; the last twenty minutes being enough to deplete the sky of any remaining colour that wasn’t the dark grey of night. Even the moon held minimal light, its glow mostly covered by the thick clouds still adorning the sky.

It was only once his house had come into view at the end of the road, the warm glow of lights bleeding in through the windows, that Izaya was reminded of his sisters and the extended period of time they’d already been forced to spend alone with his father. His steps sped up over the ground, long strides coming longer with each passing second of uncertainty, until Izaya had to break into a run and cover the last measure of meters to his house with a speed that spoke to his paranoia.

His face was flushed by the time he made it to the front door, short pants of breath breaking into the air. He threw the weight of it open with more force than he’d originally intended so the attention of all occupants in the house immediately drew to himself. He opened the door to find laughter, the shrill ring of it coming from one of his sisters; he’d almost thought it a scream when he first came into earshot, but now with the door left wide open to offer an unobstructed view of his sisters sat at the living room table, his father across from them and and open pack of playing cards scattered around them, he knew better.

“Iza-nii!” Mairu turned in her seat to greet her brother.

“Welcome home.” That was Shirou, standing from the table and staring at Izaya like he was acting strange. “What’s wrong?” He asked, no doubt taking note of Izaya’s heavy breathing and red tinted cheeks. Shirou huffed a laugh and pointedly glanced at the clock placed on the living room wall. “It’s not so late you had to run home.” He spoke, amusement tightening his lips into a small smile. “Dinner’s not even ready yet.”

“Oh…” Izaya breathed sigh of relief and embarrassment at one and the same time. “Okay.”

“Iza-nii, come play with us!” Mairu chirped from her spot at the table, still twisted in her chair to face her brother. “We were just teaching daddy to play go fish.” She explained, holding up her hand of cards for Izaya’s viewing.

Daddy?

Jesus

“Yeah, come play.” Kururi spoke, her voice all the more soft for her sister’s beside her.

“Okay.” Izaya relented, still trying to wrap his head around the current situation. “Let me just go put my bag away.” Izaya turned back to the door to remove his shoes at the entrance, of which he’d neglected to do in his haste to get inside. He very warily watched the girls as he made his way up the stairs to his room, but they sat oblivious to Izaya’s concern, organising their cards and whispering to each other while Shirou paused in the kitchen to stir a pot of food before sitting back down to resume his game with the girls.

Izaya pushed open the door and threw his school bag next to his desk, taking the short moment of privacy to close his eyes and steady his breathing. With his attention so wholly absent a target, Izaya was finally able to make sense of the small buzz emanating from his pants pocket for what it was. He opened his eyes with a start and fumbled into get the phone from his pocket in enough time to answer the call coming through. He lifted the screen into view and hesitated in sliding the green answer button across it at the sight of an unknown number displayed; and then reality caught up to him the same time Izaya’s breath caught in his throat.

“Shit.” He muttered, quickly dragging at the red decline button instead so he could go into his recent messages and open the unread demands for his attention regarding the situation he’d so completely forgotten about until now.

[5:58] Unknown: Hey, you never specified what time?

[6:05] Unknown: Dude, what time are we meeting?

[6:10] Unknown: I’m calling you…

He quickly set to typing out a response, the words coming easier through the safety of text than he knew they would have over a call.

[6:11] Izaya: 7:30

[6:11] Unknown: Okay.

The response was immediate and Izaya made sure to lock his phone before throwing it onto his desk. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, small bursts of stress like that seemed to tire him out more than they ever used to.

Wary to completely push the thought from his mind else he forget it entirely, Izaya made his way back downstairs with a firm grasp on his plan and the time left until he had to leave; it would be better to stay alert even if it left him on edge for the remainder of the evening. He took a seat at the dining room table in the only empty chair, next to Shirou, and tried to at least grant himself the appearance of calm.

“Lets start a new game so Iza-nii can join in.” Mairu offered, reaching to collect all the cards spread around the table into a single pile so she could make an attempt at shuffling them together. She gave up after a moment and began handing them back out anyway so that along with everyone else at the table, Izaya had a handful of cards piled in front of him. He lifted them into view, fanning them out so he could inspect each in a single movement and sifted through the blur of his brain for the rules this particular game followed. “Okay, I’ll go first.” She spoke, placing the rest of the cards face down in the centre of the table, “Then Kururi, then Iza-nii, then daddy.”

Izaya grimaced, hoping his displeasure at hearing that name leave her mouth would go unnoticed. It was things like this that made Izaya realise despite their genes of intelligence and troublemaking and certain areas of maturity, they were still children, young and innocent and so easily swept up in the promise of affection and normalcy when it came to family, just like he was sure any child should be.

“Kururi, do you have any nines?” Mairu asked her sister, smirking like she knew the answer already. Kururi shook her head no, a small smile playing at her lips and Mairu squealed.

“What? Yes you do! I saw them before!”

Izaya sighed, “That’s cheating Mairu.”

“It was an accident.” She conceded, but the grin at her mouth said otherwise. Kururi relented by handing over one of her cards with a poke of her tongue in her sister’s direction, the act of defiance only making Mairu smile the wider. “Daddy, do you have any fives?”

“Nope, go fish.” He smiled at Mairu’s huff of frustration and watched as she drew a card from the pile in front of them to add to her own.

“Iza-nii.” Kururi spoke softly, “Any tens?”

“Hmm.” Izaya hummed, making a show of sifting through the cards in his hands. “Here, you go.” He placed two of his cards down in front of her, smiling at the delighted light in her eyes.

Kururi accepted them eagerly and turned to Mairu for her next go. “Mairu, I want all your two’s.” She spoke, her words no less a demand for how quiet they were. Mairu smirked an evil thing and put her nose in the air.

“I’m so sorry my dear Kuru-chan but I seem to be all out.” Kururi sighed and moved to pick up a card from the centre of the table signalling the end of her turn. She looked to Izaya next.

“Mairu, do you have any aces?” Izaya asked syrupy sweet. Mairu’s eyes narrowed and a feral sounding growl left her lips. She pulled three cards from her hand and placed them down on the table with hard slap. Izaya smiled smugly, depositing the three cards of Mairu’s as well as the one of his own down in front of himself face up. “That’s a match.”

“Iza-nii's too good at this!” She whined, lips drawn into a pout.

Izaya usually let the game go on longer, usually humoured his sisters by acting oblivious and making decisions that got him no closer to winning. It was enough to be apart of the game, to relax and let them have their fun. But Izaya couldn’t relax right now if someone pointed a gun to his head and demanded it of him, not that he thought many could under those particular circumstances. He wanted to win, he wanted the game to be over so he could sit and stare at the hands of the clock moving over its surface with all the uneasy attention he couldn’t spare for anything else.

Izaya ignored Mairu’s complaints and glanced down at the two cards he had left, he knew what option he was best to take in regards to winning the game but Izaya was wary of even glancing to his left let alone drawing his attention up from the table to engage in conversation with the man next to him. For all the tension he felt around the other, in a situation like this, a child’s game of cards at the dining room table, he just felt a little awkward.

Izaya turned his gaze to face Shirou without shifting in his seat and found the other man already looking in his direction, head resting on a hand and elbow bent at the table, his expression too blank for Izaya to gain any traction on. “Do you have any kings?” He finally asked, and Shirou’s lips twitched, quirking up on the slightest smile so small and fast Izaya had half the mind to believe it hadn’t happened at all. He lifted two of his cards from their spot face down on the table without even checking them first, and let them land in front of Izaya. He released a breath of surprise and dropped his own two matching cards onto the one’s of Shirou’s. Even he wasn’t expecting to win that quickly.

“Daddy, you let him win!” Mairu complained.

Shirou just laughed, “Pack it up now, dinner’s ready.” Izaya watched him rise from the table to make for the kitchen where the sweet smell of curry and rice was bleeding out into the rest of the house. Izaya’s mouth watered.

Dinner was placed on the table and Izaya ate with his eyes flicking out to the clock on the wall every few minutes, keeping track of time with the physical force of his gaze like it was the only way he knew how to. Despite his hunger and the enticing food it front of him, it left him too nervous to eat much, most of the curry on his plate being swirled with his spoon but never making it to his mouth.

When everyone else had finished their food, Izaya stood from the table to collect each plate, pausing at Mairu’s side as she finished the last bite of her curry before dropping her spoon onto the ceramic with a loud clatter and a satisfied sigh. “Thankyou for dinner, daddy.” She sang, with Kururi as her more quiet echo.

“Thankyou.” Izaya murmured, walking to the sink so he could deposit the plates next to it and begin filling the steel bath with soapy water.

“That’s alright.” Shirou assured them, “How about you girls go help your brother clean the dishes.”

They complied with more enthusiasm than Izaya had ever gotten them to show towards cleaning in the past, and he fought the urge to argue that they’d be more of a nuisance than any help. “Here.” He offered, handing a small dishtowel to each of them. “You can dry, just be careful not to drop anything.” They nodded eagerly in agreement and Izaya went through the thoughtless motions of washing dishes, all the while wary of the time he had left and as a result speeding through his actions as quickly as he could without seeming like he had somewhere else to be.

When he finished, he looked back to the clock. He was cutting it close, he’d need to leave now if he wanted to be there early like he’d planned; it was coming close to seven and he had at least a twenty minute walk ahead of him.

“I’m going to finish off some school work and then head to bed.” He spoke in the direction of his father and his sisters beginning to settle onto the couch with the TV ahead of them. Shirou glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have a headache.” He quickly explained, hoping it was enough to excuse his early departure.

“Don’t worry Iza-nii, we can put ourselves to bed.” Mairu smiled back at him, lifting her thumbs up in a show of reassurance. Izaya smiled at them before turning to his father. Shirou was watching him with an intensity that caught Izaya off guard, and for a moment he had the heart stopping paranoia that he somehow knew. But after a moment, he smiled, the blank of his expression softening into something anyone else might consider sincere.

“Goodnight.” He said, turning back to face the light of the TV and the children’s cartoon his sister’s had settled on.

“Night.” Izaya answered quietly, turning around to head for the stairs and make his way back up to his bedroom. He let the door shut quietly and shed the weight of his school jacket onto the back of his desk chair, deciding to keep his school shirt buttoned up over his chest but pull a darker coat from his closet and slip that onto his shoulders instead, buttoning it up at the front for optimal warmth. He then pulled a pair of black boots from the bottom of his closet to replace his usual school shoes left at the entrance to the house.

From the surface of his desk, Izaya retrieved his phone and placed that in one jacket pocket. Opening a small draw attached to his desk, he pulled one of many knives from the back of it and slipped the switchblade into the other pocket of his coat.

The window came open easily enough, not a screech of metal or wood to show for his late night escape, and he stepped through, climbing out to perch himself on the landing before taking a last glance back inside and a deep breath to go with it. He closed the window, pushing down on the metal wood framing the glass until it left a hair thin gap that he would be able to use in opening it on his return.

The climb down from the second story of his house was a little more difficult, his fingers achy and stiff from the cold wind outside, his vision almost useless with so much dark blanketing the sky. Izaya took off into a run almost as soon as his feet hit the ground, half afraid he’d been heard and Shirou would emerge from the house to chase him down any second now. So he ran, his steps as even and measured as the pant of his breath, it wouldn’t do any good to show up too exhausted to keep up his guard.

Once the street Izaya was looking for came into view he slowed to a walk, taking the time to gather his breath and composure as one. Once the building he’d been headed towards came into view, he forced himself to relax even further, let his strides turn languid and elegant as a show of unconcern. He reached the meeting point with plenty of time to spare and let himself in through the fire escape door around the side of the building, surprised it had been left unlocked but distantly grateful he wouldn’t have to waste time picking the lock himself.

It was dark inside, Izaya was sure the place hadn’t been left uninhabited for too long but already dust had gathered along every surface and most walls were covered in the marks of one local gang or another. He took his time scoping out the area, walking through the lobby and peeking into any open office doors before closing them himself. He picked a suitable spot to wait out the rest of the time until the dealer would arrive in what he thought was the optimal position in the lobby for keeping track of every exit and entry point. He dragged an old desk chair out from behind the reception area and using what looked like a homeless persons left behind blanket, wiped the dust from its surface so he could settle into it and cross his legs like he was at all comfortable. He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the time; five more minutes. He let his shoulders drop back, let a smirk shift into place over his lips, and he waited.

He was scrolling through his phone, absentmindedly flicking through unanswered emails from clients he had little patience for, but Izaya’s attention was wholly on the space around him, his eyes scanning every patch of darkness for the flicker of a shadow, his ears on high alert for the soft scuffle of footsteps. It was about a minute later when he heard it, the ever so quiet creak of a door moving over its hinges. But Izaya had eyes on all the possible places someone could sneak in from outside the building, and all of them remained void of human form.

The sound came again, a little louder this time, followed by the click of what he could assume was the door falling into place. It was behind him, he could discern that much now, must be coming from one of the few conference rooms lining the back of the first floor that he’d inspected and found to be empty upon arriving. Izaya turned gracefully in his chair, let it swivel around to face the space behind him and eye the closed office door with a shadowed figure standing tall in front of it.

The figure stepped forward and his features came into view. He was taller than Izaya, almost as tall as Shizuo, and through the dark Izaya could make out the split of a smile drawn across the other’s face, white teeth aglow in the otherwise dark room.

Izaya swallowed.

The figure’s hair was dark and messy where it fell around his face, similar to what he thought Shizuo’s might look like if he ever decided to embrace the colour he was born with; it was longer than Shizuo’s too, coming down to the other’s chin. His clothes were dark, the outfit he wore practically identical to Izaya’s own and seemed to all but blend into the shadows he’d emerged from.

“And here I was hoping I could sneak up on you.”

Izaya kept his eyes trained to the patch of dark where the figure began to fully emerge, where the high lilt of his voice came to echo in the empty building. The figure stepped forward again, one hand resting in his coat pocket and the other twisted to hidden shadows behind his back. Izaya made sure to keep his posture relaxed in the seat on the chair, to keep his expression blank of anything but the unimpressed flat line of his mouth. The hand moved, the other boy lifted his arm from behind his back and swung it out and around his body to stop in front of himself instead; arm locked straight and fist clenching the top of a paper brown bag.

“Delivery for one Orihara san.”

The other boy smiled sweetly and stepped in closer, his hand still outstretched in offer. Izaya finally pushed himself up from his chair and took the handful of steps that let him come to stand a few feet away from the stranger, all the while holding his bright eyed gaze. Izaya reached out and grasped the bag in his own hand, when he pulled the other let go. Only after he had checked the contents of it did he decide to let his blank stare go for a show of amusement and` let a small smirk quirk up the end of his lips. “You’re Nakahara’s lackey?” He made a show of eyeing the stranger up and down, letting an eyebrow draw up on one side of his face. “You don’t look at all like what I expected.”

The boy’s features twisted into a mocking show of feigned hurt for a moment, bringing one hand up to press at the space over his heart. “What were you expecting? Im not a drug dealer or a lackey. I just do some work for Nakahara san on occasion.” He pouted, but the action wasn’t at all convincing when Izaya could see his lips twitching to pull back on a smile.

Nakahara was the leader of a local gang Izaya had done some favours for in weeding out their more unsavoury members, and now owed him a favour in return. Izaya knew Nakahara had access to prescription medication as he had developed close contact with the dealer Shinra obtained his illegal medical supplies from. He decided to call in the favour in the form of a single small bottle of pills, Izaya didn’t say what he needed them for and Nakahara didn’t ask, just said that he’d hand his number over to someone he knew that could meet to drop them off.

“You see.” The boy started, his lips having fully abandon his show of offence to smile unobstructed at Izaya before him. “I’m a delivery boy of sorts. I pick things up and drop them off, I’m good at getting into places I’m not supposed to be in order to retrieve some objects that are a little more—” He paused for a moment, as if his next word required careful choosing. “Desirable to my clients.” The stranger began to move, he stepped forward and around Izaya, circling the other while he spoke like a predator closing in on its prey. Izaya tracked the other’s movements with his eyes but otherwise stood still and let him pace. “I have to be honest,” He started, “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Is that so?” Izaya asked, it felt good to hear the sound of his own voice amidst the other’s rambling, words were weapons after all and Izaya knew few better ways to hold up a defence than that of conversation.

“Mmhmm,” He hummed response, “You see, we’re not that different, you and I.” Izaya turned his head to follow the boy as he moved behind him and out of sight again, just for a moment, before reappearing on his other side and circling back around in front of him. “Sometimes the items my clients ask me to obtain are information, I steal and sell it just like you do!” The stranger stopped, finally coming to stand still before him and Izaya breathed an internal sigh of relief, he was going to get dizzy if he had to track the other’s movement for much longer.

“Are you trying to say I’ve got competition to worry about?” Izaya decided to ask, still smirking enough that he had no doubt the other would take it as the joke it was. But the boy’s face twisted on a show of concern that looked to be the most genuine expression he’d had to offer all evening.

“No, no, not at all,” He denied sincerely, “I could never live up to your reputation.”

If Izaya had the time to spare thought for it, he might have been flattered at the compliment, at the obvious admiration this strange individual held for him and the reputation he hadn’t thought would develop so well so quickly among the world of his business. But as it was, he couldn’t help feeling a little creeped out, like this person’s respect ran into the deeper dregs of the start of obsession. He wondered why that felt more than a little familiar.

“When I heard that the one and only Orihara san needed my services I was very excited! I got here early and decided to wait inside for you. I thought about calling out to you to let you know I was here but I wanted to take the chance to watch you when you thought no one was looking.” He smiled wider at Izaya’s lack of response, a toothy grin that only emphasised the childish part of his personality. “You don’t look at all like what I expected either.”

“And what would that be?” Izaya smiled back.

“Hmm,” The other boy hummed, “Well you’re a lot younger for one thing.” His gaze stopped to catch at the collar of the other’s school shirt peeking out from the top of his coat. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d still be in high school.” Izaya fought the urge to verbally defend himself, that age had nothing to do with ability in his case, that the stranger couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than him anyway. “You’re also a lot easier on the eyes than I would have thought.” His grin softened as Izaya’s own turned brittle. Izaya moved his hands to rest inside the confines of his coat pockets and slip his fingers around the closed weight of cold metal.

“Im flattered.” He tightened his grip on the handle of the switchblade buried deep in the pocket of his coat. “Are you calling me pretty?” Izaya smiled mockingly.

“Mm, thats one way to put it.” The boys eyes darkened, his gaze shadowed by the fringe of his hair as he ducked down to follow to line of Izayas body with his eyes. Izaya fought to stay tall under the attention, to keep his shoulders pinned back by the others appreciating gaze rather than hunching them in on himself like he had the initial urge to. “No wonder Shiki san has such an interest in you.”

Izaya froze, it was only for a moment but with the other boy’s eyes so intently trained on him, he was sure he more than noticed. This wasn’t good. Izaya had been sure that Nakahara and his underlings were far too irrelevant to be connected with Shiki, but seeing as this stranger wasn’t actually a member, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise to find his services extended to the yakuza as well. Izaya took a discreet breath and schooled his features into the sharpest and most threatening expression he had to offer “What are you implying? Shiki san offers me work because I’m good at what I do. Nothing else.”

“Huh, is that so.” The stranger voiced, more curious than disbelieving.

“Yes.” He hissed, stepping in closer, his dark scowl making up for what he couldn’t in height. The boy ducked his head and smiled, Izaya could only just catch the curve of it through the weight of his hair.

“Don’t worry Orihara-san, I always keep my client’s confidentiality.” He murmured past the tug of his lips, easing the worst of Izaya’s panic and increasing it all at once. “It was nice to finally meet you.” The boy took a step back. “You can call me Kuza-chan.” He added, lifting his head to smile at Izaya before him. “I’ll be seeing you Orihara san, i'll make sure of it.”

And the other boy stepped back further, until he stood shrouded in shadows, until he disappeared into them entirely, like he all but belonged there, like he’d dispersed to become a part of the shadows themselves. Izaya took his own step back, and turned to head for the door he’d come through earlier with calm and measured steps to betray how eager he really was to be out of the building. He let the door shut behind him and wondered why he hadn’t thought to be more suspicious of the already picked lock on his arrival. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. Izaya paused to jam a piece of spare wood under the door in what he’d deny as petty revenge before turning away from the building.

Izaya gripped the paper bag in his right hand a little bit tighter and stepped forward into the night, his strides alternating between coming too slow for the burn of anxiety that made him want to hurry home and too quick for the part of him that longed to forgo it entirely.

Izaya arrived home to a dark house, the windows visible from outside completely devoid of light, despite the fact that it was barely late enough for most of the street to be asleep. He circled around to the side of the house, where the window to his bedroom sat, and began to climb, scaling the wall with all the grace he could manage with one hand occupied by the paper bag in it and one foot still too sore to hold all of his weight upon itself. He reached the landing and pulled himself up, straining muscles in his arms that hadn’t been worked enough recently to be of much use in the action. He shifted into a comfortable position, one where he could hold his balance long enough to slip free of the constriction that was his coat and leave it to rest beside him before lifting both hands to grasp at the frame of the window and pull up—

The window wouldn’t budge. The window wouldn’t move at all, and not because it was stuck; when Izaya looked down to find the hair thin gap he had left there nonexistent, he realised it was because it had been pushed closed and then locked from the inside.

“Fuck.” He hissed, resisting the urge to rattle the window with his clenched fist. Izaya climbed back down, pushing to jump from the wall far sooner than he should have and almost twisting his ankle again on the land. He only realised he’d left his coat back up by the window once he’d began to walk away and a cold gust of wind came to raise goosebumps along the line of his pale, bare arms. He made his way back around to the front of the house, if everyone was asleep the front door would more than likely be locked too but at least he had a key for that. Izaya moved up the steps to the landing and took a deep breath. He twisted the door handle under his hold and tugged it to open, it moved over its hinges unrestricted, and Izaya had no time to parse the meaning of a door left unlocked until he had stepped past it into the house and come to face his father standing across the room.

Shirou was staring at him. With his arms crossed over his chest and his feet firmly planted under the width of his shoulders, he looked like he’d been standing there since Izaya had left, like he would continue to stand their until Izaya’s inevitable return home. Like now.

Izaya’s heart rate picked up with sudden enthusiasm, spiking to heights that made him feel like he was going to be sick. His chest was tightening — it was getting harder to breathe, and his vision was blurring with it, his body apparently deciding to malfunction at the most inconvenient of times. But he breathed through it, he closed the door behind him softly and moved the hand holding the paper brown bag further behind his body.

It was a waste of energy when Shirou had been watching Izaya from the moment he decided to open the door.

Shirou stepped forward, finally breaking his statue still stance and the silence at once. “What do you have behind your back?”

“Nothing.” He insisted on reflex, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But Izaya knew better, he was sure he was about as convincing as a child right now; he hoped he didn’t look as frightened as one too.

Shirou moved closer, another handful of steps and he’d be but a few feet away. He stopped and Izaya could see his face in more detail now, could see the cold blank weight of all his features. And Izaya thought he’d rather see anything else on that face; even anger, bright and livid to contort his expression into madness would have been better than the calculating look he held in his eyes now.

“What do you have behind your back?” He asked again and Izaya swallowed down the urge to echo and repeat his last answer. He stood up a little taller instead, squared his shoulders and lifted his gaze darkening with the first surge of irritation instead of fear and spoke, his voice coming more flat than he could have hoped for.

“That’s none of your business.”

That was the wrong thing to say, he realised too late.

Shirou’s hand fisted in the front Izaya’s shirt with a speed so sudden, he felt the pressure of his touch before he saw the other’s hand move. That fist pulled back for a moment, and then Izaya could only watch as Shirou put all of his weight behind the forward shove of his arm, pushing Izaya back and off his feet with a single flex of muscle. Izaya’s breath rushed past his mouth, his lungs flexing on the sudden pressure of Shirou’s fist at his chest. His back hit the closed door behind him and Izaya slid to the ground, his legs all but collapsing under himself.

Shirou stepped even closer, his whole body looming over the other. He leant down to reach for the paper bag abandoned at Izaya’s side with the first shock of his back hitting the door, and Izaya’s energy renewed with sudden burst of self preservation. He reached out across the floor to grasp at the bag before Shirou could. He almost had it, his fingers grazed the edge of the paper before Shirou’s boot clad foot came down hard along his outstretched hand. Izaya swore he could hear as well as feel the bones moving, if not breaking in his hand, and he retracted it almost immediately, clutching it to his chest while he gasped for air in lieu of the scream he couldn’t find breath for. His hand was throbbing with pain, he could feel it pulse with every beat of his heart, but he wouldn’t give Shirou the satisfaction of letting him know how much damage he’d done. He breathed through it instead, took deep, measured breaths through his nose all the while tracking Shirou’s movement as he bent over to reach for the bag again, this time with more success.

Izaya watched as Shirou opened the paper bag to look inside and began to seriously contemplate if he had the time to stage a retreat through the door and never come back, if Shirou would let him go or chase him down the street. He could run to the police station, he could run to Shinra’s house, hell he could even run to Shizu—

“What’s this?” The small bottle rattled as Shirou lifted it from the bag, his voice so cold Izaya almost thought it best not to answer.

“It’s prescription medication.” He tried to reason with the other.

“Oh yeah? Is the pharmacy usually open this late?” Shirou studied the label over the pills and then looked back down to Izaya still sprawled on the floor. He dropped the bottle back in the bag and meticulously folded over the top of the paper before turning on his heel and walking away. Izaya watched his back move further into the dark of the house and his only hope for relief, for respite go with it. He pushed himself up onto his knees, then to his feet, letting his injured hand fall to his side.

“Wait!” He yelled, firm on his feet, even firmer in his voice. Shirou stopped in his tracks. “I need it.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You think you can’t sleep now? You’ll never be able to sleep normally again if you abuse this shit.” He warned the other, resuming in his forward motion across the ground.

Izaya moved forward with a shaky resolve and a level of desperation that granted his next words more truth than he cared to admit.

“I don’t CARE!”

One hand on either shoulder blade, he pushed Shirou hard enough that the other stumbled forward for a moment before he could catch himself under his feet. Shirou released a breath that sounded disappointed and resigned all at once. When he spoke, Izaya’s stomach clenched on the words.

“You think you’ve got everything figured out don’t you? Think you’re in control of your own little world.” He huffed a laugh, sharp as glass, and dropped the bag onto the nearby table. “You’ve got no idea.” His feet shifted under him, his body immediately taking an attacking stance. He brought his hands up in front of himself and clenched them to fists. “You really are still just a child.”

Shirou lunged foward with the weight of his fist pulled back and when he brought it down, Izaya dodged it easily, his every muscle on sudden high alert and all but twitching with energy to be used. Shirou’s fist flew past his face, a brush of air against his cheek and Izaya readied himself to dodge the next one. But Shirou was faster than before, as if making up for Izaya’s quick reflexes with sheer speed and accurate timing, rather than the brute force Shizuo could only ever muster. The punch clipped his cheek and the distraction of a close call was enough to mean he couldn’t dodge the next one at all. Shirou’s knuckles hit the high arch of his cheekbone and the force sent Izaya stumbling to the ground. He tried to stand again but his legs wouldn’t cooperate, he couldn’t get his feet under him with his head spinning as much as it was.

Shirou leant down and fisted both hands at the front of Izaya’s white school shirt once more before lifting the full weight of his body up and off the ground. His shirt slipped higher up his body and Izaya could feel his stomach being bared to the cold air around them. Shirou pushed his back up against the wall and Izaya struggled for traction with the backs of his shoes against the surface. Shirou shook him once, hard, and Izaya’s head slammed back against the wall with a dull thud. He may have felt his brain rattle around in the cage of his skull and he definitely felt his tongue get caught between the clench of his teeth and his mouth begin to pool with blood.

Izaya took the opportunity to spit the slow leaking blood in his mouth over his father’s face. Shirou turned aside on reflex, but the spatter of liquid still caught once half of his face to stain it with flecks of red. Izaya used his distraction to bring one knee up into the soft of Shirou’s stomach with the most force he could possibly muster whilst still dangling from the other’s hold on his shirt. Shirou doubled over at the impact and released his clenched fists to drop Izaya to the ground.

Izaya scrambled to get away, his arms and legs moving of their own accord to frantically crawl across the floor and out of Shirou’s immediate vicinity. He’d only managed to cover a meter or so on his hands and knees before he felt the other’s hand grab at the back of his pants, lock hard around his belt, and pull back with a sharp tug of his arm. Izaya’s knees slipped out from under him as Shirou dragged him back across the floor without easing his hold on the belt cinched tight around Izaya’s hips, and Izaya had a sudden, mortifying fear that the belt would give way and his pants would be pulled back as well. He reached back on instinct, bringing his hands down to grasp both sides of his jeans where he could feel them slipping further down his hips.

Shirou let go of the leather but Izaya had no time to breath a sigh of relief when he was pulling hard at Izaya’s shoulder to turn him over and onto his back. The hand went back to his belt and Shirou used the rough drag of his fingers to force the buckle open.

Izaya shuddered at the clink of metal and went completely, irrevocably, still; the cold tendrils of a fear too primal to be ignored effectively paralysing him in the face of it.

The burn of breathing was coming faster in Izaya’s chest, and with his eyes wide open and his arms laying limp at his sides, he was sure if Shirou spared the time to look up at him, he’d embody the very picture of a deer too frightened to twitch in the path of an oncoming car.

Shirou yanked at one side of his now open belt and the leather slipped through the loops of his jeans until it had come free completely and Shirou was folding over the long strip of material before pulling it back into himself. Izaya desperately wished he’d kept his coat on, wished he had the safety of his knife, or more clothes, or just the full fucking use of his arms and legs. He wished he wasn’t as scared as he as and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why, when he’d faced so much danger in his life already, it was now that he had to crumble so pathetically.

“Turn over.”

Izaya was brought back to the horror of his reality with the hard snap of Shirou’s voice. His words came cold and flat but when Izaya’s looked up into the other’s face, Shirou’s eyes held that same fiery light they always had every time they butted heads. If his expression had been blank and icy before, now it was anything but. He looked crazed and feral and absolutely, all encompassingly terrifying.

Izaya couldn’t trust his voice not to break over the sound of his words if he attempted to speak them so he shook his head no instead.

“Turn over!” Shirou growled out, like wolf rabid and hungry.

“NO!” Izaya shouted, finally finding his voice and the energy to move once more. He began to struggle with renewed vigour, fear finally pushing him to thrash and push and kick at Shirou instead of just freeze in place like it had before. But Izaya was no match for the whole of Shirou’s body weight bearing down against his shoulder to push him over and onto his stomach. Izaya tried to use the new position to regain the support of his hands and knees and crawl away from his father but the bottom of Shirou’s boot came to press against the back of his neck and force his head down to the ground in front of him, effectually pinning him there by that single point of contact.

Izaya had never felt more vulnerable and completely at the mercy of another human being. He heard the rattle of the belt moving behind him and Shirou’s intentions were forced to clarity in the forefront of his mind. He felt his father’s free hand come to land at the back waistband of his jeans.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yelled, struggling to pull away from that hand. But Shirou paused and instead of pulling down the back of his pants to bare his ass like he had feared he would, Shirou moved his hand to the bottom edge of Izaya’s shirt and pushed it up the length of his back. The material bunched up under his arms and as his father leant back and away, clearing the space between their bodies with the exception of his foot holding heavy against the back of his neck, Izaya had barely a moment to suck in a sharp intake of breath before Shirou brought the belt down hard against his back and he was forced to let it all back out in a huff of startled agony.

The whistle of the leather as it sliced down through the air was one of the most frightening sounds Izaya had ever heard. The moment it came into contact with the bare of his back, he felt his skin give way to the pressure, swore he heard it split under the force of Shirou’s motion. The initial burst of agony was so overwhelming Izaya couldn’t even scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t manage any coherent thought through the white hot that had taken over his vision.

The white receded, the ringing began to fade from his ears, and Izaya was left with the sound of Shirou breathing hard and heavy behind him and his entire back burning as if lit with flames. He shivered at the slow leak of blood he could feel running out from the gash to pool at the small of his back. His hands were clenched into white knuckled fists on the floor at either side of his head and it took a conscious effort for Izaya to release them; his injured hand ached protest at the movement.

The belt dropped to the ground with a clatter and Izaya couldn't help but flinch at the sound. Shirou pulled his foot back from the top of Izaya’s spine and Izaya listened to the squeak of his shoes over the floor as he walked away from the mess he’d made of Izaya’s back and up the stairs to his room, grabbing the paper bag left on the table along the way.

For a number of minutes all Izaya could do was lay where he’d been left on the ground and will the heat away from his eyes. Eventually he mustered the effort to move, his back stung with every shift of muscle and bone but he managed to push himself up to his knees and then to his unsteady feet despite that. He picked up the belt that had been forcibly removed from his hips without directly looking at it and moved across the room to make his way up the stairs. He paused in front of his sister’s room, there was no way they hadn’t heard their yelling, deep in sleep or not, but Izaya couldn’t be bothered entertaining the idea of doing anything that wasn’t curling up in the corner of his wardrobe and closing his eyes to the nightmare than had become his life. He continued on to the open door of his bedroom and pulled it shut behind him, throwing the belt he still held across his room with all the frustrated disgust he could muster.

Izaya could feel the back of his white-stained-red shirt clinging to the slice in his skin and the wet of blood slick along his shoulders and down his waist. He peeled it back from his body with a wince and let it drop to the floor along with his boots before moving to lay face down across the bed. He knew he should be forcing himself under the spray of the shower and cleaning the blood drying sticky against his back, or maybe even calling Shinra to see if he’d need the more immediate support of stitches, but the wound had to be clotting by now and so, in Izaya’s mind, would be fine so long as he ignored it until the morning.

He just lay over the mussed sheets of his mattress and finally, after what felt like a long time coming, let himself cry. His chest didn’t heave with sobs like he thought it should, Izaya wept silently save for the soft sniffles and uneven breathing he couldn’t control. He let the tears dampen his pillow beneath him and resisted the urge to curl into a ball over the bed else he pull at the slash stretching along his shoulder blades and cause it to bleed once more.

It hurt too much to sleep even once Izaya moved to lay on his side; not that he thought he’d be able to will his mind to rest even without his back and hand and cheek throbbing with every rush of blood from his heart. Officially giving up on the attempt, Izaya slipped his phone from the front pocket of his jeans and through eyes still bleary and bloodshot from crying, went into his recent messages and committed a crime so detrimental to his self preservation he had to worry if his life wasn’t taking more of a toll of his emotional wellbeing and stability than he had originally thought.

[10:21] Izaya: Hey.

The response was almost immediate, like the person on the other end of the message had been waiting with their phone already in hand.

[10:21] Shizu-chan: Hey, how are you?

Izaya huffed a humourless laugh into the pillow under his face. How did he even begin to answer that? He settled for a simplified version of the truth.

[10:22] Izaya: Pretty shit.

For the love of god, what was he doing? He should have just left the phone in his pocket, or better yet, left it in the coat that still sat on the outside ledge of his window, far away from his shaky fingers and pathetic need for comfort.

[10:22] Shizu-chan: What’s wrong?

And again, without pause from the last.

[10:22] Shizu-chan: Did something happen??

Izaya sighed into the damp of his pillow, he knew he was only making things more difficult for himself in the long run but when he was already this goddamn miserable, who the fuck cared?

[10:24] Izaya: No, it’s nothing.

[10:25] Shizu-chan: Doesn’t sound like it but okay.
[10:25] Shizu-chan: You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know. I know you probably don’t want to but if you do, I promise I’ll keep it to myself.
[10:26] Shizu-chan: If you want me to…

It felt surreal, when had their relationship changed to the point that Shizuo could so easily offer comfort to his worst enemy. Izaya should just bid him goodnight and turn off his phone before he said something he meant and as a result, something he’d regret.

[10:30] Izaya: I’m just tired
[10:30] Izaya: But I can’t sleep.

[10:31] Shizu-chan: Yeah, I know what you mean

Izaya felt like laughing, felt like retorting with something stupid and unnecessarily cruel because you really don’t was all he could think. But that wasn’t fair, even he knew that much.

[10:32] Shizu-chan: Is it because you don’t feel safe?

Shit. How was he so abnormally perceptive? It left him reeling back every freaking time, still forced the air from his lungs in something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

[10:35] Izaya: No

Yes

[10:35] Izaya: I don't know

Izaya wished almost more than anything that he could say yes, that he could let go of his pride and his fear and his need to self sabotage. He wanted to someone to know, he really did, but he just didn’t want to tell them.

[10:36] Shizu-chan: If you’re trying to sleep, talking to me probably isn’t helping
[10:36] Shizu-chan: I don’t want to keep you up

He had no idea how much he was helping, even far away probably half asleep under the covers of his own bed and with only the glare of electronic text to show for his presence, Izaya still felt safer than he had on any of the other nights he’d spent staring at his ceiling with only his self destructive thoughts for company. And in a moment of weakness and a tumble of honesty, the words poured out from the tips of his fingers before he could find the strength to catch them back.

[10:37] Izaya: It is helping
[10:37] Izaya: You make me feel safe

Fuck

Izaya locked the screen of his phone and threw it down the end of his bed. He turned his face into his pillow and groaned, the sound no less miserable for how quiet it had to be so as to not slip through the confines of his bedroom. He waited for a minute. And another. He began to doubt if he’d ever hear from Shizuo again, had just convinced himself he’d never regretted doing anything more than what he’d just done, when his phone vibrated from where landed down by his feet. It took more effort and pain to retrieve it than he was sure warranted doing it in the first place, but the answer he received did more to warm his body than he thought even his covers would do had he bothered getting under them.

[10:40] Shizu-chan: That’s kind of ironic seeing as I’m usually the one you hurts you
[10:40] Shizu-chan: But
[10:40] Shizu-chan: I’m glad
[10:40] Shizu-chan: For some reason

“Idiot.” Izaya muttered into his pillow, lips curling up on a soft smile, and suddenly very unsure of who deserved the title more.

[10:41] Izaya: You’re glad?

[10:42] Shizu-chan: Yeah
[10:42] Shizu-chan: I mean, I used to wish you were scared of me like everyone else just so you would leave me alone, but now that’s the last thing I want

Izaya needed to know; maybe Shizuo could offer him answers to things that he was still struggling to make sense of.

[10:44] Izaya: Why?

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Shizuo took his longest pause yet, and when he finally replied, Izaya’s breath rushed out of his lungs and onto the cotton of his pillow with something that felt a lot like relief.

[10:51] Shizu-chan: I don’t know
[10:51] Shizu-chan: It feels like something’s changed but I don’t know what

It wasn’t much of an answer as far as easing the press of confusion at the back of his mind went, but Izaya felt the weight of those words with as much familiarity as if they were his own.

[10:53] Shizu-chan: We can keep talking for as long as you want but I may fall asleep at some point, so sorry in advance

Izaya replied quickly, eager to keep Shizuo’s attention for as long as he could and offer the start of a conversation mundane enough to require little thought and double as an effective change in subject.

[10:53] Izaya: That’s okay
[10:54] Izaya: So do you think you’re ready for the relay this weekend?

Izaya didn’t want to think about what he was typing anymore than he had to because with the comfort of Shizuo’s words in his palm to soothe the ache along his body, there was only one thing on repeat in his head.

Something’s changed

Chapter Text

Izaya couldn’t remember falling asleep, it felt like only moments ago he’d been forming the structure of an answer to the relaxed back and forth conversation he’d spent the better half of the night in with Shizuo on the other end. It had been the early hours of the morning then, he’d remembered, and he’d been struggling to keep his eyes focussed on the text in front of him.

Izaya could feel the weight of his phone still held loosely by one hand resting down on the bed and finally let it slide free of his fingers to bring both hands around himself instead. God, it was cold. Sleeping without the cover of blankets had been a mistake on his part. Izaya reached back down for the phone left over the mattress and pressed the button along its side that brought the screen to life for a few flickering seconds. He’d woken up late again, not that that could be considered much of a surprise at this point, to be honest he wasn’t entirely sure he’d even been bothered to set an alarm the night before.

Izaya shifted over the bed and a sharp surge of pain lanced through him at the pull of muscles; the entire previous evening came rushing back to him with all the force of a blow. He remembered the fear and frustration and humiliation and falling into bed with the dull ache of pain. He remembered his sisters and how the yelling must have scared them out of sleep and into each other’s arms; he was more than surprised they hadn’t found their way into his own bed at some point during the night.

Shit

Izaya turned over to lay flat on his stomach and groan into his pillow. It was one thing for him to be late to school due to his own mistakes, it was another entirely for the effects of that to have to fall onto his sisters. He pushed up from the mattress with more difficultly than he thought he’d ever had previously; he was so exhausted and honestly couldn’t seem to remember ever feeling otherwise. Izaya slipped out of his own room and moved to his sister’s down the hall, he twisted the door knob and pushed it open without knocking. “Wake up girls, we’re going to be la—“

The beds were empty; sheets were tangled, pillows misplaced, and an array of clothes strewn about its surface, but of any human form, they were empty. Izaya left the room and peered down over the railing of the second story balcony to look into the kitchen and dining room below. They were empty too, and now that he thought about it, now that he really listened, everything seemed a little more quiet that usual, it was hard to make out anything but the sound of his own heavy breathing.

Izaya retreated back to the space of his own room and moved to the far wall where he could peer outside and into the driveway of his house. Shirou’s car was gone too. He must have taken them to school, he reasoned with himself. They had all woken and dressed and left him alone without even speaking a note of concern for his late awakening or what had happened last night either one. Izaya tried not to let the thought turn bitter in his mouth. He unlocked and pushed up the weight of the window frame to reach out and bring in the coat he’d left lying over the ledge there last night and throw it back into his room. The closed knife still safe in its pocket gave a dull thud as it hit the ground.

The bathroom light hurt his eyes, and he had half the mind to turn it off and shower in the dark once he caught sight of his reflection in the cabinet mirror. God, he looked like he’d been hit by a train. The bruises had only just faded from his face to leave the skin there pale and untouched, but now a new patch of purple and blue was beginning to bloom over the high arch of his cheekbone, where Shirou’s fist had made impact the night before. It was far from the worst he’d received, even his run in with Shizuo seemed to have done more damage, but it was there all the same, a reminder of his failure, his weakness, his unending string of mistakes. His hand wasn’t fairing much better, dark bruising ran across the length of his knuckles and down the back of a few of his fingers. It wasn’t broken. Probably. Maybe he’d have Shinra take a look at it just in case.

Izaya held his breath as he turned his back to the mirror and peered over his shoulder into its reflection. Dark red had dried to darker brown along the line of his back, some smudged across his shoulders and more where it had trailed down the dip of his spine. It looked like it had bled more than it should have considering that the blunt edges of Izaya’s own belt couldn’t possibly have cut as deep as it looked. But even congealed and clotted over with dried blood, the wound looked almost as though he’d been caught in the crosshair of an especially angry dog, its wolf like claws having sliced deep into the skin of his back.

Izaya stepped under the hot spray of the shower, wincing as he let it cascade over the back of his shoulders and down his waist to wash away the blood dried there. He grit his teeth and stared down at the tiled floor and the red tinted water pooling by his feet. Shirou had taken it too far, whatever disdain he held for Izaya, he’d made a mistake in leaving his mark like he had. He’d spilt blood, he’d given scars — something that meant Izaya could never forget, and he’d never forgive Shirou for that. Things were escalating too quickly, it was only a matter of time and ever thinning patience before one of them did irreversible damage to the other, or god forbid, Shirou got bored of playing with Izaya and decided to move on to his sisters.

Izaya stepped out of the shower and let the fluffy matt underfoot soak up the water still dripping from his body and hair. It was difficult to dry himself, knew it would be even more so to dress himself; it hurt to lift his arms too high, the action pulling the skin over his shoulders taught and threatening a fresh spill of blood from the gash there. He decided to forgo drying his hair and covering his back in any sort of medical dressing, the place it sat along his spine too inconvenient a position for him to see properly, let alone reach. He brushed his teeth and spat out the blood he had been tasting on the inside of his mouth for most of the night.

Once back in his room, Izaya stared down at the filthy mess of his last remaining school shirt. It was splattered with drops of blood at the front from what had slipped free of his mouth and soiled with the dark that had soaked in against the back, and when he lifted it to press at his nose, smelled sour like sweat. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to do the washing; actually, after everything, he really could. And Izaya wondered if he was going to have to wear it anyway, let the crimson staining the back of the shirt be hidden by the weight of his dark jacket. But Izaya dismissed the idea as quickly as it came, he’d rather go shirtless after all, and then remembered that he had a spare white shirt he left in the back of his gym locker at school for any clothing related disasters that may occur there. He could wear his spare sports uniform to school and change into his shirt and jeans once they’d finished training during lunch; he’d be cold for sure, with his walk through the icy outside wind done in the shorts of his sport attire, but he was sure he could manage long enough to get through the next couple of hours.

So Izaya slipped into his clothes with careful attention over his injured back and pulled the weight of his dark school blazer overtop of his sports uniform anyway, despite it looking a little out of place. He retrieved his school bag from where it sat on the floor and made his way back downstairs where he could fill a glass of water under the sink and swallow it down in three big gulps. He tried not to look at the spot where he’d been lying last night, where Shirou had pressed him up against the wall, but his eyes were drawn to it like a moth to a flame; the more he let himself look, the harder it was to do anything but.

He wondered what Shirou had done with the drugs, if he’d thrown them away or taken them to work, or if they still sat upstairs hidden in his room or his office somewhere. Izaya wondered how many bad ideas it was okay to act on within the span of 48 hours. It’s too big a risk, he eventually decided for himself, if he found out I’d been snooping through his stuff, god knows what he’d do.

Izaya looked back down to the school bag slung over his shoulder with a wary kind of epiphany. He’d completely forgotten about the plan B he’d had hidden at the bottom of the satchel for the last couple of days. He sifted through it’s contents, pushing aside heavy textbooks and loose leaves of paper for the small bottle he knew should still be there. Izaya had a brief moment of panic that he may find it as unaccounted for as the lock still missing from his bedroom door, that Shirou might have gone through Izaya’s own things when he’d had his back turned.

Izaya’s panic eased the moment his fingers came into contact with cool plastic, he pulled the bottle from where it had been hidden in the pages of a book and into the light of the room around him. The bottle was far from full, only maybe just over half its contents remaining, but Izaya felt the heavy weight of that bottle with the burden of decision it came with and the never-ending mistake his mind was telling him it had to be.

The lid came off easy under his grip, twisted to unscrew with no resistance, and Izaya tipped out a handful of the pills into his hand just to look at them. The were small and round just like the last ones, but orange this time instead of blue. He probably stared at them for a good five minutes, traced every curve and dip of the numbers printed into the tablets before finally deciding to pick one from the pile and place it on his tongue before his brain could catch up with his body’s action and resolve to tell him otherwise.

What have I got left to lose?

He refilled his glass of water and swallowed down the pill with a speed that spoke to his desperate attempt to reach the point of no return.

He could feel regret settle in, cold and icy, before his throat had even finished moving the water from his mouth and into the irretrievable depths of his body. Izaya closed his eyes. He felt sick. He wondered if he should be making himself throw it up, he wondered if he’d have to, if his stomach wouldn’t voluntarily expel the cause of his distress any moment now. But instinct out won self preservation — or his current lack thereof — and he breathed through the swell of nausea until he could push it back enough to open his eyes again.

He tipped the remaining pills still caught in his palm back into the plastic container they came from and twisted the cap shut before burying the bottle at the bottom of his bag once more. Izaya left the house, locking the door behind him and moving out into the unforgiving cold of outside. His bare legs stung with the bite of the wind but he kept them moving, kept the blood circulating his body in what minimal warmth it had to offer. Even after only 20 minutes of walking he swore he could feel his energy spike, feel his feet pick up a little from where they’d been dragging over asphalt. And by the time he was jogging through the gates of the school the slow ache of his ankle and his hand and his face, even his back was so minimal he’d have no trouble forgetting it if the physical mark was the only one it had left.

This doesn’t feel so bad, he thought to himself, moving up the steps leading to the school building. If anything, it was a little frightening how seamlessly he could feel the effects of the drugs bleed into his system, into his reality, like they were always mean to be there, like he’d never felt more comfortable in his own body. He supposed that could be due to the lack of pain drawing his attention out of the inside of his head for the moment, but whatever it was, it felt like relief.

………………………………………

Shizuo was tired. He could barely keep his eyes open and had long since failed to keep his head from resting atop his arms across the surface of his desk. He’d been up all night with the glare of his phone screen and the distraction of Izaya’s presence inches from his face. Their back and forth conversation had lasted longer than Shizuo thought he was capable of upholding; and by the time he could hold his eyes open no longer and the weight of sleep pulled him down, he’d been rudely awakened by his alarm what felt like only seconds later. Getting out of bed and dressed had been more a great force of will than anything else, much like the walk to school.

So Shizuo let himself doze with his head pressed to the wood below him, the teacher had given up on reprimanding him after the fifth or so time he’d let himself drift back down to its surface, perhaps taking pity over his so obviously sleep deprived student. Shizuo wouldn’t have even noticed the door to the classroom coming open if it wasn’t for the absolute silence that descended over the rest of its occupants; the fact that Shizuo had also been on high alert to every squeak of that same door all morning held no relevance.

Shizuo lifted his head with a great deal of effort and the door opened to reveal the latecomer as Izaya, just like he was hoping it would. He had been thinking the silence felt out of place when Izaya had been late to school almost every day for the past week, but now taking the time to look in the direction everyone else’s gaze were drawn, Shizuo could see why.

Izaya’s face had just faded back to the pale pallor of his usual skin with little if any sign of the bruises or cuts that had been so part of the others expression for the past week. But now, Shizuo felt as though he’d been thrown back into the past. Izaya's cheek was mottled with the same purple and red that Shizuo had just gotten used to seeing void on the other’s skin. His obscure uniform combination probably didn’t help disperse the attention either, he looked to be wearing the shirt and shorts of his gym uniform that left too much of his pale legs on display and his regular school blazer draped overtop.

As soon as Izaya stepped into the room and came to realise the attention so steadily locked onto his entrance, he looked as though pressing his touch to open the classroom door had been his biggest mistake of the year. Shizuo had half expected him to turn and bolt back out the way he came for all the self conscious regret he could see forming in the others face. But he didn’t, he just held his head up high and walked through the door of the room without so much as acknowledging the presence of anyone within it. He took a seat at the far back of the room and the teacher cleared his throat before continuing on with a lecture that Shizuo could make no sense of even if he hadn’t slept through most of it.

His seat further behind the blonde meant that Shizuo was incapable of looking back to stare at the other without making himself painfully obvious. He chanced a glance back anyway, but Izaya wasn’t looking at him, and he didn’t have his head in his arms over the desk like Shizuo had assumed he would, like Shizuo himself had been doing in an effort to quell the heavy weight of sleepiness pulling at his thoughts from a too late night. If Shizuo felt tired, Izaya looked anything but, he had a frown weighing down the corners of his mouth and dark circles under his eyes but he also had one leg bouncing with a restless energy under the table, and eyes that were darting about the entire room, running over every area of it with the exception of where Shizuo was sitting. It was almost as though he was making every effort to look anywhere but Shizuo’s direction, and Shizuo was suddenly reminded of last night’s conversation, of the open honesty that had spilled itself from his own and then Izaya’s fingers before they’d done well to steer clear of anything remotely related for the rest of the night turned morning. Shizuo looked away with a flush, twisting to face the front of the class once more before Izaya noticed he was being watched, if he hadn’t already.

Shizuo gave up on listening before he’d even really given it a chance, he let his head fall back into the cradle of his arms over his desk and closed his eyes in an effort to block out the image of Izaya’s discoloured cheek and the vice-like pressure around his heart that came with it. For all the effort Shizuo spent in forcing his eyes on the board in front of him for the first half of class, now he felt like forcing himself into sleep was more of an effort when all he wanted to do was move in his chair and turn to face Izaya’s own, to watch the shift of the other’s features as he struggled with some kind of inner turmoil Shizuo knew was there but had yet to guess at.
When the bell for the end of class rung, Shizuo was staring at the hairs on his arm, counting the pale length of them in a simple if not sufficient distraction. He’d lost count a number of times and had been about to give up with the rising heat of frustration when the signal for the start of lunch sounded and he could push back from his desk to stand from his chair. Shizuo wasn’t taking his time collecting his things to move out of the class, was only moving as slow as everyone else still occupying the room, but when he looked up from placing books back into his schoolbag, Izaya was already heading out the door before anyone else with a speed that spoke to his determination to be elsewhere.

Shizuo quickly threw his bag over his shoulder and stepped out to call the rush of Izaya’s hurried presence back before he disappeared entirely. But Shinra got there first, had just managed to reach out and clasp a hand around the back of Izaya’s jacket to gather his attention with physical force. Shizuo watched Shinra get dragged along by his hold at Izaya’s jacket for a few steps, stumbling out the door of the classroom and around the corner out of view. But when Shizuo came to walk out of the room soon after and turn into the hallway, Izaya had stopped and Shizuo watched Shinra pull on the other’s arm to turn his gaze over the two people demanding his attention.

“Izaya.” Shinra said, releasing his hold on the other’s wrist.

Izaya’s eyes widened on surprise that Shizuo had trouble determining as genuine or not. “Shinra,” He greeted the other, “I didn’t see you.”

“Oh.” Shinra voiced, apparently believing that he just hadn’t been fervent enough in catching the other’s attention rather than that Izaya had been intent on escaping an interaction with them. “What happened to your face?”

“Ah.” Izaya paused, bringing a hand up to ghost his fingers over the colour staining his cheek. “I fell down the stairs.”

Shizuo frowned, his eyebrows drawing down on the slow burn of irritation that had become more of a stranger over the past week than it ever had before. “You already used that one.”

Izaya’s gaze narrowed at Shizuo’s casual accusation, each corner of his mouth slipping down on a frown that spoke to his frustration.

“You’re a lot more clumsy now than you ever used to be.” Shinra interjected, before Izaya could fire back a response that insisted on the honesty Shizuo knew he was lacking. Izaya seemed to hesitate for a moment, moving the arm at his side ever so slightly before thinking better of it and letting it relax back into place. But the small twitch of movement gathered enough attention and Shizuo watched Shinra’s gaze lower to fall on the hand that Izaya had been hiding in the pocket of his jacket up until now. Izaya must have noticed the shift in their attention because instead of retreating to hide it back in the cover of his pocket, he lifted his arm to push the bruised in, discoloured skin of his hand directly into Shinra’s line of view.

“I landed on it when I fell.” He tried to explain indifferently. Shizuo was sure he looked about as dubious as he felt. “I wanted you to tell me if it was broken.”

Shinra took ahold of Izaya’s hand in his own and studied the dark creeping over the back of his knuckles and winding its way up a few of his fingers with what Shizuo considered to be a thoughtful expression. “I don’t think it’s broken.” He finally spoke with a tone that said he wasn’t quite finished, but Izaya cut him off, by retracting his hand from the other’s grasp and voicing his relief at once.

“Okay, thanks.” He offered, short and bright, like he wasn’t still wearing the marks of someone else’s violence.

“Izaya…” Shinra warned with a frown, “You should still get it X-rayed, it might be fractured—“

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He interrupted the other with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Shinra closed his mouth without any further comment on the matter.

“Why are you wearing that uniform?” He asked instead, pointedly staring at the dark navy of Izaya’s sports shirt and shorts.

“I forgot to do washing,” He answered, “I only wore it here so I could change into my spare one after training.” Izaya shifted his attention away from Shinra to land on Shizuo standing behind him. “Speaking of which, we should probably head there now.”

“Oh, right.” Shizuo murmured after a moment, finally realising the conversation required a response on his end. Izaya turned to walk away down the hall, where he’d been headed before Shinra had forcibly intercepted his path, when the brunette reached out to grab at Izaya’s arm once more.

“Izaya.” Shinra pulled to turn him around, and Shizuo watched on with wary attention at the absolute focus Shinra was fixing onto the wide open weight of the other’s eyes. Izaya shifted under his gaze, twitching uncomfortably like he was fighting to turn away from the scrutinising stare Shinra had set on his face. A moment passed, and another, and Shizuo thought Izaya was going to pull away from the other’s hold by force, but Shinra let go of Izaya’s arm and whatever he had been searching for or looking at in the other’s eyes, for the moment, went unstated. “Can we talk after lunch?” He asked instead.

“Sure.” Izaya replied, looking a little unnerved at Shinra’s serious change in tone. When he moved to turn away, this time Shinra let him, and Shizuo followed after the other, watching him walk down towards the gym locker room and leave Shinra behind him.

“See you later.” He mumbled as he passed the bespectacled boy and jogged forward to catch up to Izaya ahead of him. They walked the short distance to the locker room in a silence that probably wasn’t as tense as Shizuo felt it to be. He kept chancing glances to his side, catching glimpses of Izaya’s injured face and the determined gaze he kept set on the ground moving under his feet.

The room was empty, like it always was during this hour, most students taking advantage of the break in their day to spend time with friends or read in the library. Shizuo reached his locker and fiddled with the combination, taking care to turn the dial as gentle as his too strong fingers could manage. He changed into his gym uniform with a lot more speed, hastily unbuttoning the shirt across his shoulders and dragging a new one over his head. He paused before pulling at the fastenings of his pants, glanced to his right at Izaya across from him, and cursed himself for feeling stupidly self conscious; Izaya wasn’t even looking at him when Shizuo caught sight, he’d already left his jacket in the locker and was now watching his hands as he pulled shoes onto his feet. Shizuo drew down his pants with an urgency that left him almost pulling down his boxers in their wake. He quickly righted himself with wide eyes and stepped into his shorts with a little more care. By the time he had finished dressing himself and sat to change into running shoes, Izaya was fully dressed and searching for something at the bottom of his school bag. Shizuo paused in tying his laces to watch him finally pull a small yellow bottle from the bag, stare at it for what Shizuo thought an unreasonable amount of time, and tip two sickeningly vibrant orange pills from the container into his hand.

Shizuo frowned. “What’s that?” He asked. Izaya didn’t even look at him, just pressed the hand to his mouth and swallowed down the pills with a swig of water from the bottle in his bag.

“It’s just ibuprofen.” He revealed, and Shizuo thought that either Izaya had gotten lazy at lying, or he really thought Shizuo was as much of an idiot as he always claimed him to be. He wasn’t close enough to catch any of the writing printed onto the label wrapping the bottle before Izaya shoved it deep back into his bag, but Shizuo still knew better, ibuprofen didn’t come in bottles like that, that was prescription medication without a doubt. He would have said as much and called Izaya out on his lie, if he didn’t know that it was far from his business to interrogate someone over what medication they were taking, even if he really wanted it to be.

Shizuo stood from the bench he was sat at and let the metal door of his locker swing shut with a clang. Izaya followed him through the exit that led to the grassy sports field outside, and around the edge of the large space until they reached the bench their teacher was already sitting at. He lifted his gaze from where it had been focussed over his phone once he caught sight of the two students making their way across the field. He frowned at curve of their hunched over shoulders and displeased expressions.

“Come on boys, the relay’s tomorrow! This is your last day of practice, show a little more enthusiasm!” The teacher rose from the bench as they arrived and came to stand behind them. He lifted both hands from his sides as he spoke and brought them down on each of his student’s backs in what Shizuo thought was meant to be a slap of encouragement but only managed to irritate him further. “Let’s get started.” The teacher spoke, and out of the corner of his eye Shizuo saw Izaya jolt forward at the contact, saw his muscles tense up and watched as his mouth came open on a silent huff of breath to match the agony breaking over his face.

Shizuo’s brows drew down on confusion, the slap had been hard but not that hard, even without the overpowering strength and unnecessary pain tolerance, Shizuo knew that that had been a dramatic overreaction. But Izaya had to close his eyes like he was fighting off some invisible wave of pain, and Shizuo could see the struggle as genuine in the shaky inhale the boy sucked in beside him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, the teacher had moved back to his seat at the bench, completely unaware of the discomfort he’d wrought onto his own student. Izaya opened his eyes again and experimentally shifted his back with a cringe.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He answered, uncurling the fists at his side and taking off into a jog before Shizuo had the chance to interrogate him any further. Shizuo followed after him, breaking into a slow lope around the field without bothering to stretch beforehand. Even though it was just a warm-up, Shizuo was sure Izaya had decided to sprint their laps around the oval; every time he looked up it felt like the other boy was miles away and gaining more distance with each passing second. Even with the teacher’s drawn out warning of “Slow down Orihara, it’s just a warm up,” as he passed — which Shizuo was surprised he could hear from the opposite side of the field — he could never seem to catch up.

Still, after the warm-up and into the following thirty minutes of training and exercises, it continued, and Shizuo couldn’t fathom how the other had so much energy. It was true that Shizuo usually got more sleep than he’d managed the previous night, but even so it shouldn’t be affecting him as much as he thought it was. It was difficult to figure out if his body was so severely lacking in energy, or Izaya had a surplus of it. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

“Izaya, you’re doing great. Shizuo pick up the pace a little.” Shizuo turned to glare at the teacher as they jogged past. It didn’t feel like he was moving much slower than usual, it felt like Izaya’s manic sprinting was just making him look bad in contrast. Izaya ran like he was running from something, he ran like he couldn’t stop. His ankle must be better, Shizuo realised distantly, because he certainly paid it no mind now.

It was out on the other side of the field, far from the teacher’s view, where Shizuo finally stopped to take a break. He folded over himself and let his hands come to rest on his knees for support as he tried to even his breathing and slow his fast beating heart. He was more than surprised when Izaya quickly slowed to a stop in front of him, backtracking a few meters to stand beside Shizuo as he made the attempt to replenish his energy. He’d thought that some of that feverish energy the other held might have depleted itself as Izaya had started to fall back enough to be within a short span of distance to Shizuo behind him, but now, with the other boy shuffling and squirming like he couldn’t stay still, like he was ready to continue their run without the benefit of a break, Shizuo thought that maybe he’d just been forcing himself to slow and linger closer to the blonde for Shizuo’s own sake.

Shizuo pushed back to standing upright and readied himself to continue on before he heard the uneven sound of heavy breathing and came to realise it was not his own. He looked to Izaya beside him and studied the other’s appearance. He was looking ahead of him like something in the distance had caught his unwavering attention, but his eyes were blown wide now that Shizuo really looked, the pupils were so dilated they seemed eclipse the rest of his eyes to turn them to black. And instead of the exercise induced flush Shizuo was sure covered his own face, Izaya’s skin looked pale and sickly, like all the blood had drained from his face. When Shizuo moved closer, and the breathing that Izaya couldn’t seem to slow became louder, he realised the smaller boy was shaking. “Are you okay?” He asked, for the second time that hour.

Izaya’s black hole gaze swung ‘round to land on him with a startling amount of speed, but there wasn’t enough clarity, Shizuo thought. Here was there, but he also… wasn’t. “I’m fine.” Izaya assured him, and Shizuo’s breath caught in his thought at the breathless honestly in the other’s voice, like Izaya couldn’t quite believe it himself. “I can’t feel anything. Anywhere.”

A pit in Shizuo’s stomach opened up that felt as though it was on the verge of swallowing him whole. Something wasn’t right, the last words to leave Izaya’s mouth had made that abundantly clear.

“Come on, Shizu-chan. Let’s race!” Izaya sprinted off before Shizuo had even made the conscious decision to answer, he couldn’t seem to stay still any longer for all the energy bleeding itself out into him, and Shizuo took off after him in a burst of instinct more than anything else, something he was sure Izaya had been counting on.

Shizuo was glad he’d had the foresight to take a break, because now he felt a little more capable of keeping up with Izaya’s frantic speed. He was still lagging more than a few meters behind, but with every new burst of determination, he was gaining on the back of the other’s trail. They had only been racing for what felt like less than three minutes, they’d barely made another lap around the oval, before Izaya disappeared from being directly in front of him and instead took another tumble to the ground. Shizuo raced passed Izaya as he fell with a speed that took more effort to slow that it did to reach in the first place. He finally stopped a short distance ahead and immediately turned on his heel to jog back in the other direction. It looked less like Izaya had tripped or slipped on some discreetly hidden object or slick patch of grass like last time, and more like his legs had just given out from under him without his explicit permission to do so.

When Shizuo made it back to where Izaya had tumbled across the field, he was curled up with an arm around his stomach and another over his face. “Shit, you alright?” Shizuo felt stupid for asking, he very clearly wasn’t alright. In-between the fast paced panting, Izaya let a groan of pain spill from his lips before resuming his erratic gasps for air, he sounded like he was having an asthma attack. “Fuck, what’s wrong Izaya!?” Shizuo yelled with a little more force than he’d intended, he was at a complete loss of what to do. He reached down to grasp one of Izaya’s shoulders with the hope of unfolding his body and pulling that arm away from his face. Izaya resisted with a strength Shizuo would be impressed by if he wasn’t riddled with quick rising panic. Shizuo eventually relented and let go of the other’s shaking arm else he use to much force and do more damage himself. He had almost steeled himself to gather Izaya up in his arms and sprint back towards the school building where he knew Shinra and his own asthma puffer were resided when Izaya shot upright and then to his feet with sudden panic driven speed.

Shizuo stumbled up from his knees without the unthinking speed or grace Izaya had managed, and watched on in confusion as Izaya broke out into a sprint that was headed straight for the school building.

“What’s going on?” Shizuo turned to find their teacher making his way across the field with a concerned expression plastered over his face.

“Uh, I don’t know, he fell.” Shizuo answered, feeling just as confused as he was sure the other man felt.

“Do we need to get the nurse?” He asked, and Shizuo immediately shook his head.

“No, it’s okay, let me go and see what’s wrong first.” He answered, finally giving in to the urge he’d been too shocked to give in to as Izaya had taken off, and let himself sprint towards the open door of the gym locker room. Shizuo had made it about halfway across the distance to the building before he watched Izaya disappear inside the door, and in turn, began to move his feet a little bit faster. He made it inside just time to hear Izaya slam open the door to one of the toilet cubicles towards the back of the room, and as he followed the sound to its source, in time to watch Izaya bend over the toilet and empty his stomach inside of it.

Shizuo made his way over slowly, knowing an audience was the last thing Izaya would want at the moment, but too stubborn to really care. Izaya hadn’t bothered to close, let alone lock the cubicle door behind him, so Shizuo could come to stand behind the other. He reached out to rest the palm of his hand against the sweat damp shirt at Izaya’s back in an act of comfort he wasn’t sure would be appreciated, but he knew little else to do. Izaya flinched back from the contact like shizuo’s hand was an iron brand burning his skin and jolted further over the toilet bowl. He’d stopped gagging for the moment, was doing little more than coughing and wheezing but it still made Shizuo’s heart clench; and as Izaya lifted a heavy shaking arm to press at the flusher for the toilet, wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, and turn to lean against the wall of the cubicle, Shizuo knew he couldn’t dismiss the event as an upset stomach like he was hoping he could.

Izaya was still shaking, maybe even more than before, like his whole body was on the verge of convulsing. Shizuo had the uncontrollable urge to reach out and still the worse of the tremors wracking his thin body with the force of his own grip, instead he lifted a hand and made a second attempt at offering what comfort he could. His touch landed at the dip in Izaya’s shoulder and this time, whether from acceptance or being too exhausted to refuse, Izaya let it stay there.

“Izaya…” Shizuo warned, making an admirable effort to keep his voice from wavering. “You need to tell me what’s wrong.” Izaya’s half lidded eyes seemed to drop even further, and Shizuo wondered if he was going to have to shake him just to keep him from falling into unconsciousness, but through the uneven panting Izaya took one especially sharp breath and jolted himself back from the brink of passing out on his own. Izaya choked on his next breath and brought a hand up to clutch at the shirt over his heart.

“M- my heart hurts.” He gasped out, “It won’t,” Another shaky breath, “It wont slow down.”

Shizuo let the hand at Izaya’s shoulder slide across his collar and up the line of his neck. He didn’t have to worry about finding the pulse point or steadying two fingers over it, because he could already feel the rapid pace of Izaya’s pulse pounding away just from moving his palm to the skin at his throat. “Shit,” Shizuo breathed, moving his hand up to press the back of his fingers against the sweat slick skin at Izaya’s forehead turning the fringe of his hair damp. “You’re burning up.” He spoke gravely, bring the hand back to his side. “I’m going to get the nurse.” Shizuo’s tone spoke finality and determination, and Izaya must have sensed that because he lifted the hand not clenched tight in his shirt — the badly bruised one — to lock hard around Shizuo’s retreating wrist.

“No!” He yelled, using what energy he had left to put all of his strength into holding Shizuo where he was. “Don’t.” He spoke again more quietly, bowing his head, like he could no longer hold the weight of it up. “Please.”

Shizuo felt like he was on the verge of throwing up himself. “Izaya.” He spoke again, trying not to let how freaked out he felt turn his words brittle, he wasn’t sure he managed. “I don’t know what to do,” He was sure he sounded almost frantic now, “Tell me how to help you.”

Izaya groaned again, “Get Shinra.” He managed to mumble out just before folding himself back over the toilet to gag and resume vomiting once more. Shizuo felt trapped where he was, stuck between wanting to retrieve help as soon as possible and not wanting to leave Izaya alone for more than a second at the same time. He glanced back to the door leading outside and contemplated running in the direction he’d last seen a teacher, but he knew that would waste too much time. He took one last look at the back of Izaya’s curled over spine and then to the door leading inside the school building.

“Don’t try to go anywhere, I’ll be back as quick as I can.” He tried to assure the other before twisting on his feet and sprinting as fast he possibly could out the door of the locker room and into the school hallway. Shizuo’s feet moved under him at a pace he could barely keep up with, he half expected himself to trip and stumble into something before he’d made it to his destination. He dodged teachers and students alike, keeping his mind steadfastly focused on where he needed to go. He finally reached the stairs leading to the roof and practically threw himself up them, taking three at a time, and then through the door marking their end. It flew open with the force of his panic, swinging to crash against the wall outside with sound loud enough to draw anyone’s immediate attention.

“Shizuo!” Shinra chirped unknowingly, before finally catching sight of the hysteria apparent in every one of Shizuo’s features; his fast breathing, his tight wound muscles, the heat building up against the back of his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, dropping his half eaten meal to stare confusion and concern at Shizuo instead.

“S- something’s wrong with Izaya,” Shizuo could barely stutter out between pants of breath, “You need to come now.”

Shinra pushed himself up from the ground before beginning to pack up what was left around him from his lunch. “Alright,” He answered, “Just let pack up and go get my supplie—”

“No!” Shizuo interrupted, yelling over the other because none of that was important, everything else could wait, he just needed to get someone to Izaya. Shizuo lunged forward to grab Shinra by the wrist and pull him forward back the way he came. The brown haired boy stumbled a bit, struggling to keep up with Shizuo’s hurried pace, but Shizuo ignored any protests coming from the other’s mouth. Just a little bit further. He dragged Shinra down the stairs and through the hallways without ever really giving him enough time to get his feet under himself in something that might support his body. We’re almost there.

“Shizuo, what’s going on? You need to calm down.” He could finally hear Shinra warning him, now that his heartbeat wasn’t so loud in his ears, now that they were a little bit closer. The locker room door came into view and Shizuo ignored Shinra in favour of barrelling through it with the other boy towed in his wake.

They found Izaya in the same spot Shizuo had left him, though he’d let himself slump back into a lean against the cubicle wall, his arms hanging heavy beside him and his head lolled far enough forward that the black of his hair covered what Shizuo knew was a bloodless white face.

“Izaya.” Shinra murmured upon sight of the other boy. “What happened?” He asked a little more firmly; since Izaya looked very much out of commission, Shizuo took it upon himself to answer the question.

“He tripped and fell when we were running, he was breathing so fast, I thought he was having an asthma attack, but then he ran back here and started vomiting. He won’t stop shaking and it feels like he has a fever. Oh a- and his pulse is too fast.” He quickly added on, trying to think of every relevant symptom he’d seen on the other. “And he said it was hurting, his heart.”

Shinra’s face went dark as he stepped forward and Shizuo could only watch on in confusion as his friend’s concern hardened into anger at the flow of Shizuo’s words. “Shizuo, get me his bag.” Shinra’s tone was assertive and left no room for argument, but Shizuo made the mistake of voicing his uncertainty anyway.

“What? Why do you—”

“SHIZUO!” Shinra cut him off with the rise in his voice. “Now!”

Shizuo stood stupefied, he’d never been yelled at by Shinra, he’d never even heard the other raise his voice before. He quickly snapped himself out of his shock and began to move back towards the lockers just to avoid being screamed at again. Shizuo was lucky Izaya had decided to leave his bag out on the bench rather than the confines of his closed locker, because it would take more time and patience than Shizuo thought Shinra had to figure out the combination. Shizuo returned to the cubicle with the bag in his hand and watched Shinra kneel in front of Izaya and coerce his head back up with a hand under the other’s chin. He looked significantly more disorientated than when Shizuo had left him, his pupils were still blown so wide Shizuo fought hard to find any of the colour previously marking his eyes, and when Shinra lifted the other’s face into view, it felt like an empty shell was staring back at him.

Shizuo thought he heard Shinra murmur something soft spoken under his voice but was too far away to really make it out. The next time he spoke it was loud enough for Shizuo to hear. “What was he like before this happened?” It took a moment for Shizuo to think back along the ice cold river of time that had been the last hour, and another to answer him.

“He was acting weird when we started, his breathing was too fast and he kept moving around like he couldn’t keep still, like he had too much energy.” He tried to explain, hoping he didn’t sound like an idiot. Shinra moved his fingers to the space under Izaya’s jaw and then again to his forehead.

“Pass me the bag.” Shinra requested with an outstretched arm. Shizuo handed it over without hesitating. The fog had started to clear from Izaya’s gaze with the shift in his friend’s attention but Shinra only pushed away Izaya’s weak attempt at grabbing the bag and ignored his verbal protest. He put the bag down by his side and rifled through it’s contents, pulling out textbooks and paper, and Shizuo was just about to voice his slow rising irritation brought on by confusion, to ask what the ever loving fuck he could be looking for at a time like this when he finally pulled the small yellow container Shizuo had caught sight of earlier with a grimace that only fed the already open pit in his stomach. Of course, how had he forgotten? I should have remembered earlier, he thought to himself, that seems like pretty relevant fucking information. Now that he really thought about it, he wondered how he could have been so oblivious as to have missed it! The black blown eyes, the restless energy; Izaya was obviously high on something and Shizuo had just sat back and watched him struggle with it for the last hour. Hell, he’d watched him take the damn pills without saying anything at all, god how he wished he’d said something now.

Shinra’s expression was caught between rising concern and frustrated anger at one and the same time, Shizuo watched on with wary attention to see which one would win out over the other. “This isn’t what I prescribed you with Izaya, what happened to those?” Shinra demanded.

Air rushed out of Izaya’s mouth in sharp bursts, and Shizuo really didn’t think he could stand to see the other cry but when he looked down to catch a glimpse of Izaya’s face, he found that he wouldn’t have to; Izaya wasn’t crying, he was laughing. It got louder and more hysterical with every passing second and Shizuo thought he’d rather have him crying. “I ran out.” He gasped between breaths, a disturbing smile stretched across his face that Shizuo hoped could be attributed to an overwhelming amount of pain and not the effect of some neurological injury brought on by the drugs he’d taken.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Shinra waited patiently for the laughing to stop; Izaya cut it off abruptly with a hiss of pain, his hands flying up to cover and clutch at his face.

“It’s only been a few days, that was supposed to last you the week.” Shinra continued, now with the silence to do so.

Izaya let his hands fall from his face and back to his lap with the wave of pain that had gripped him apparently receding; that unsettling smirk was left in their place. “I don’t know what to say,” He drawled, like this was funny, like Shizuo wasn’t getting whiplash from his rapid change in personality.

“You can start by explaining yourself.” Shinra bit out, “I know you’re not an idiot Izaya so tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to mix drugs that you haven’t even been prescribed.” Izaya’s smirk quickly vanished and was replaced by another grimace of pain instead. “How many did you take?”

Shinra gave the other boy a moment to find some clarity and spare it for thought. “One before I left this morning and two before we went outside.” His hand went back to clutching his chest and a groan of pain slipped out from his tight pressed lips. “Move,” He ordered Shinra without any force, “I’m gonna be sick,” Izaya’s hand came out to push Shinra back and out of the cubicle while he clutched at the porcelain bowl with his discoloured hand and pulled himself back over the toilet.

“We need to call an ambulance.” Shinra spoke with determination. Shizuo’s breath caught in his throat, his own nausea swelling closer to the surface with every word from Shinra and action from Izaya that spoke to how serious the situation really was. Shizuo was already getting ready to turn and run towards the phone he’d left in his locker, wondering if it would be better to call in the nurse first anyway and let them phone the hospital when Izaya paused in his heavy breathing to yell Shizuo and Shinra to stillness.

“NO!” He shouted before Shizuo had really made a move to do anything but twist on his feet.

“Izaya—” Shinra started before the other boy stopped him.

“If you call an ambulance, I’ll kill myself before it can get here.”

Shinra’s forward motion froze as quickly as his words, Shizuo wondered if he was also having trouble breathing. He felt confused, and angry, and a little bit scared. When Shizuo turned to watch Shinra slowly come back to life from the shock of Izaya’s last statement, he knew the other boy was just feeling angry.

“What the fuck, Izaya!? How could you say something like that?” Izaya didn’t answer, only dropped his head lower. “How is that fair on any of us? We’re your friends and we’re trying to help you!” Shinra shouted with a passion Shizuo wasn’t certain the other had. He was the only one between the two of them that had never been affected by Izaya’s words, he could never be riled up like Shizuo could.

“That won’t help me,” Izaya grit out from between clenched teeth, “If you’re gonna do that you may as well leave me here to die.”

Shinra groaned as both of his hands immediately went to fist in either side of his own hair in a fit of frustration, Shizuo was half afraid he’d pull it all out, he’d never seen the other boy so worked up. Shizuo watched him close his eyes and take a few deep breaths before unwinding the fingers from his hair. “You’re not gonna die, you idiot.” He spoke with a little less force than before. Izaya had taken to leaning against the wall in his original spot, his eyes were closed and head tipped back to rest against it; Shizuo would think he was asleep if it wasn’t for how fast he could still hear him breathing.

“Get him in the shower to cool him down and keep him awake. I need to go back and get my supplies from my locker.” Shinra turned back to order Shizuo, his tone falling into something calm and clinical but firm enough to quiet Shizuo’s refusal if he had any. As it was, after watching Shinra sprint from the room he only hesitated for a moment at Izaya’s side — struggling to decide on the best way to move him — before grabbing a wrist to pull and hold Izaya’s arm tight around his shoulders and slip his other hand around the other’s waist to drag him to his feet by force. Izaya couldn’t support his own weight and Shizuo gave up on letting him try after less than ten seconds, instead moving the hand curled about Izaya’s wrist to the space behind his knees and lowering himself to lift the other off his unsteady feet and hold him in his arms. He barely gave Izaya enough time to form a protest, moving to the set of locker room showers with a speed that spoke to how minimal a burden Izaya’s weight really was, and setting him down to sit on the cold tile ground.

Shizuo reached for the handle of the tap protruding from the shower wall and turned it all the way to cold. He flinched as the icy spray of water burst from overhead to soak through his uniform and plaster his hair to his skin, but ignored it in favour of leaning down to grab at the hem of Izaya’s sport shirt. He’ll cool down quicker with less on, he reasoned with himself. But as soon as his fingers fisted the bottom of the material and his knuckles brushed the soft skin under it, Izaya’s hands shot back with a startling amount of speed to curl tight around each of Shizuo’s wrists and hold them there.

“Don’t!” He panted with a new burst of energy; he’d been almost dead on his feet before and the fluctuation kept catching Shizuo off guard.

“What? Why?” He argued because he was tired of feeling confused because Izaya was being unreasonable. They’d already been shirtless in the same room, why was he getting self conscious now?

“Because I said so.” He grit out, venom lacing his voice. Shizuo ignored it and began to lift the shirt anyway. “Wait! No!” He yelled, releasing his hold on Shizuo’s wrist else his own get twisted beyond comfort, and took to struggling and squirming away from the other instead as Shizuo stripped the shirt up over his back and pulled it from his head.

“Stop moving.” He growled, yanking the shirt from Izaya’s arms and throwing it out of the shower, all the while keeping one hand on Izaya’s bare shoulder to hold him under the spray of cold water. When Shizuo looked back down at the other’s bare skin he felt his breath catch at his throat for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“What the fuck?” Shizuo murmured quietly as he raked his eyes down the curve of the other’s back, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Izaya went utterly still under the attention, every muscle going lax as the will to struggle left him as quickly as it had appeared. Izaya’s back was covered in blood, it looked as though someone had taken a paintbrush and splattered the red to his skin in a fit of artistic mania. There was dried blood smeared around the blades of his shoulders, like it had spilled over while under the cover of his shirt, and now there was more, dark rivulets of it beading up and running down the length of his spine to his waist, like the pull of arms over his head or Shizuo’s rough strip of his shirt had forced a fresh spill to the surface. And at the centre of it all was a long, messy gash marring the other’s skin, reaching diagonally from each shoulder blade and dripping a slow leak of blood that diluted and disappeared with the spray of water from above. Shizuo released Izaya’s shoulder and took a step back. He tried to even his breathing and swallow down the sick; it did nothing to keep the ice from his voice.

“If you tell me that’s from falling down the stairs, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Izaya answered with a huff of air that sounded alarmingly close to a sob. He dropped his shoulders and hunched over far enough that his wet hair fell in front of his face. All Shizuo could hear was the sound of water falling to splash against tile and the quiet sniffles coming from the boy slumped over the floor in front of him. Shizuo took a deep breath and slow steps forward. He let his hand come to rest at the back of Izaya’s neck and pushed forward as gently as he could; Izaya still jerked at the contact but let himself be moved to rock a little further forward on his knees and let the mess of his back fall more directly under the cascade of cold water.

He felt as much as saw Izaya flinch at the increase in pressure to his injury. Shizuo used his hand to wipe along Izaya’s back and assist in washing away the blood still dried there. He then used both hands to push the weight of Izaya’s hair back off his face and slick it over his head. Izaya voluntarily tipped back at the contact, straightening to upright and using the flow of water to ease Shizuo’s attempt at smoothing the strands back and away from his forehead. Even after he’d finished, Shizuo stood there running his fingers through the other’s hair, using the action to calm himself as much to calm the still shaking body beneath him. Izaya had his eyes closed to the spray of water above them and Shizuo watched the way small droplets would roll down his face and catch at the length of his inky black eyelashes. He could hear him making an effort to even his breathing, to inhale deep and hold it before exhaling again.

By the time Shinra burst back through the door, panting for breath, Shizuo was soaked from head to squishy shoe and shaking from the cold. He pulled his hands back from Izaya’s hair, but Shinra was too frantic to notice. Shizuo watched him drop a giant bag by the bench before disappearing around a corner and returning with two towels in his hold. Shizuo reached over to turn the shower handle and abruptly stem the flow of water. The action left Izaya’s back in uncovered view for a moment and Shinra’s eyes widened at the sight. He walked closer and Shizuo stepped further out of the way to let him get a better look. He didn’t yell or interrogate Izaya like Shizuo had half expected him to, he just stood there staring silently. Shizuo looked back down at the wound, it looked a little less horrific with the smears of blood surrounding it absent and at the same time brought the details of the injury into better clarity. At first Shizuo had thought the most obvious answer to the cause would be the clean cut of a knife, but now that he looked closer, it wasn’t clean at all, in fact it looked much too messy to be a blade. It was less of a slice and looked more as though the skin had broken and burst with an incredibly strong impact, like he’d been bent over and flogged with a whip.

Izaya held still with his head bowed as Shinra studied his back without speaking. Shizuo drew his gaze away from the other’s skin and to Shinra beside him, hoping to gain traction on the other’s thoughts from his expression alone. But Shinra was harder to read than Shizuo thought he would be, his brows were furrowed like he was expending a great deal of effort to make sense of something, like he wanted to wait until after he’d connected all the metaphorical dots of the situation before he said anything out loud. After what felt like minutes and was probably really only seconds, Shinra looked away from Izaya’s back and walked toward where he was still hunched over on the tiles instead, throwing a towel in Shizuo’s direction as he passed. Shizuo immediately wrapped it around himself and watched as Shinra unfolded the one in his hands to wrap around Izaya as well. He carefully draped it over the other’s shoulders and pulled either end to cross over the front of his body. “Do you still feel sick?” He asked.

Izaya took a deep breath. “A bit,” He answered quietly, “But I don’t think I’m gonna throw up again.”

Shinra nodded his head slowly, “That’s good.” Shizuo could hear how much his breathing had slowed since he’d made the effort to even it, it was still faster than normal but at least it didn’t sound like he was in the midst of a panic attack. He was still shaking, that much was obvious, but Shizuo wasn’t sure if it was still from the drugs or because he was cold. “What about you’re heart?” Shinra asked again.

Izaya shook his head. “It’s not as bad anymore. Everything just kind of aches.” He murmured, at least he seemed a little more coherent. Shinra must have noticed too because he rose from his squat on the ground with a lot less urgency than he’d shown before and offered his hand to Izaya to pull him to his feet. Izaya kept one hand securing the towel around his body and used his other shaky one to reach up and grasp Shinra’s own. Shizuo was worried he’d have to quickly offer his own support, but Shinra managed to pull him up with a surprising amount of strength and steady him enough to get to the bench he’d dropped his bag of supplies by. Shizuo followed them closely behind in the case that either stumbled or suddenly ran out of energy. Shinra let go of Izaya and slowly lowered him to the bench. Izaya immediately pulled the towel tighter around himself and dropped his head to hide his face in it. Shizuo watched Shinra open his medical bag and pull out a plastic case filled with smaller pill bottles like he’d seen the other pull from Izaya’s bag earlier. He frowned as his friend opened one to tip a number of small black tablets into his hand and offer them to Izaya beside him.

“They’re just charcoal.” He explained when Izaya uncovered his face to look as distastefully at the pills in front of him as Shizuo was sure he was too. “They’ll help to get the drugs out of your system.”

Izaya very reluctantly took the pills from Shinra’s outstretched palm and the bottle of water he offered after, placing them in his mouth and swallowing them down with a grimace. Izaya took a few more sips of the water, like he was trying to get the taste out of his mouth, before handing it back to Shinra who excepted it silently.

“There’s not much more I can do for you.” He spoke into the quiet, “It seems like thankfully the worst has passed, but I don’t know if any damage has been done to your organs. You really need to at least go see a real doctor.” Izaya didn’t answer, to protest Shinra’s advice or promise he’d follow it either one. “Take off your towel and turn around.” He requested, turning on the bench to straddle it with one leg either side and gesturing for Izaya to do the same. He hesitated for a second and Shizuo thought he might have to hold the other down while Shinra forcibly treated him but Izaya eventually submitted, letting the towel drop from his shoulders and twisting on the wooden seat to turn his back to Shinra behind him. There were some spots of red staining the white towel where it had been pressed to Izaya’s skin, but for the most part, the wound had stopped bleeding.

Shizuo watched the doctor in training unfold a small plastic sheet onto the floor below and beside him and begin placing various plastic wrapped medical instruments atop it. Shizuo hoped to god they were sterile. Shinra slipped a pair of gloves onto his hands and began cleaning around the gash in Izaya’s back with an alcohol swab. Shizuo looked away to focus on finally untying the laces of his soaking shoes and slipping his feet free of them. His socks quickly followed and god he already felt better.

“Shizuo, can you please help pass me my things as I need them?” Shinra asked as he finished cleaning Izaya’s back. Shizuo responded without answering, moving to sit on the floor beside Shinra’s pile of instruments with his hands in his lap and his towel draped over his shoulders. “Put on some gloves.” He instructed and Shizuo complied, even if he could barely fit his hands inside the soft plastic material.

Shinra made quick work of stitching up Izaya’s back, calling for supplies Shizuo always had at the ready; he’d been treated enough times by the other boy to know this routine off by heart. Throughout the process Izaya had his hands fisted in the hem of his gym shorts where they’d ridden up high over the open angle of his thighs, and only relaxed them once Shinra had tightened a knot in the suture with one last painful tug and cut the remaining length of it with the sharp silver scissors Shizuo had handed to him. “It’s not as neat as it would have been if you came to me straight away, but there’s nothing to be done about that now. You’ll just have to live with the scar,” Shinra chirped over the silence, removing his bloody gloves and dropping them down on the plastic sheet. Shizuo did the same, grateful the gloves came off a lot easier than they went on. “You may need someone to help you dress it.” He spoke again and with the top half of his body on display as much as it was, Shizuo didn’t miss the way Izaya tensed at the comment, “But if that’s not possible, call me and I’ll come help.” Izaya relaxed again, if only the slightest. Shinra pressed a white square to the middle of Izaya’s shoulders with one hand and began taping down the edges of it using the other, a professional ease already apparent in the grace of his fingers. “Whatever you do, just don’t leave it like you did before. You’re lucky it’s not infected.” He chided the other with a little more bite.

Izaya’s shoulders sagged forward even further, he looked so tired and sad Shizuo felt like smacking Shinra over the head for making it any worse, even if he knew the other was right. Shizuo pushed himself upright and made to continue his earlier mission of getting changed into clean, dry clothes. He walked over to his locker and immediately began to strip in front of it, peeling his wet shirt up over his head before letting it fall to the concrete with a slap. His shorts followed, and Shizuo tied the weight of his damp towel around his hips before shimmying down his soaked through underwear as well. He fought the urge to glance to his right and check if he was being watched, so what if he was? This was a change room, he was only using it for its intended purpose. There was nothing to be self conscious about, he tried to convince himself.

Shizuo opened his locker and pulled out the uniform he’d stuffed in after changing, ever so grateful to find a spare pair of underwear and two pairs of socks shoved into the back of his locker. He apparently thought ahead more than he’d ever given himself credit for. Shizuo slipped back into his underwear, dry this time, and removed the wet towel from his waist. He pulled his blue slacks up over his legs and buttoned his white shirt over his shoulders, already more warm for the lack of soaking garments pressed to his skin. He sat back on the bench to more thoroughly dry his feet and slip into fresh socks and regular school shoes.

Only once Shizuo was fully dressed did he allow himself to look back to where his friends were sat. Shinra was in the process of packing his supplies, Shizuo watched him wrap up the bloody instruments and stuff them to his oversized medical bag. Shizuo would never make fun of him for bringing it to school ever again, he decided. Izaya still sat shivering and hunched over on the bench with his hands resting in his lap, Shizuo wondered if he’d made an effort to move at all in the last five minutes.

Shizuo stood from the bench and made his way over to where Izaya was sitting, reclaiming the towel that had slipped free of the other’s shoulders and placing it over Izaya’s head. His hair was no longer dripping wet like it had been when they’d left the shower but Shizuo still did his best to towel dry the last of it as gently as he could. When he pulled it away to drop back to the bench, Izaya’s eyes were wider and he looked a little more alert. Shizuo refused to look back and meet whatever face Shinra was making. Instead he turned to Izaya’s locker and brought a hand up to rest at the combination lock.

“What’s your password?” He asked and Izaya frowned.

“I can dress myself, Shizu-chan.” He argued, moving to stand from the bench he’d been straddling. He wobbled as soon as both feet met the ground and quickly descended back to sitting to avoid collapsing onto the concrete. Shizuo waited for Izaya’s sigh of resignation. “Zero, two, one, four.” He muttered, barely audible. “Great, now i’ll have to change it.”

Shizuo opened the locker and began sifting through its contents until he found a neatly folded white shirt with a set of black jeans hiding in the back. He pulled them out and dropped them on the bench within Izaya’s reach, setting the other’s school jacket beside them before going back to searching for a new pair of underwear and socks. He found the former, a dark pair of boxer briefs, and threw them back in Izaya’s direction, but that was all. “You don’t have any socks in here.” He turned to let the other know, Izaya was busy buttoning up his shirt with slow moving fingers.

“That’s unfortunate.” He admitted with such a lack of concern Shizuo was sure the only reason Izaya was bothering to change at all was because his clothes were being handed to him, he wouldn’t doubt the other’s ability to walk home half soaked and half naked otherwise. Shizuo stepped across the concrete to his own still open locker and pulled the second pair of socks he’d left inside and dropped them by Izaya’s things instead. He waited for the defensive rejection he was hoping wouldn’t come and felt pleasantly surprised when he was right. “Thanks.” Izaya mumbled, keeping his head down to watch as he finished buttoning the last of his shirt.

“It’s fine.” Shizuo turned back to his own locker to gather the rest of his things and give Izaya some privacy while he changed out of damp shoes and shorts. He knew he must be struggling with limbs that looked so weak they were barely responsive, but Shizuo wasn’t quite willing to turn around and offer his assistance, mostly because he knew what Izaya would say if he did.

Shizuo pressed his locker shut and slung his school bag over his shoulder and only once a reasonable amount of time had passed did he turn back to watch Izaya struggle shoes onto his feet and Shinra come to sit beside him. “Here.” The brown haired boy spoke, gesturing for Izaya to bring his feet up on the bench so he could help him tie his laces properly. Shizuo took a seat next to Shinra while his fingers worked to knot Izaya’s school shoes to his feet. “How are you feeling?” He asked once he’d finished. Izaya lowered his feet back to the ground.

“Tired.”

Shinra slowly nodded in response. “That’s to be expected.” He hummed, “You’ve put your body through a lot.” The room fell quiet again and under the blanket of silence Shizuo came to realise just how exhausted he felt as well. If he’d had any remaining energy, the panic and stress of the last hour had been enough to deplete it. Now he just felt like crawling into bed and closing his eyes to the world.

Izaya drew in a particularly loud breath to scatter the silence around them. “Sorry.” He exhaled, his voice tense and brittle like it was physically painful to let the word fall free of his body. His shoulders slumped further forward and his hair fell in front of his face. “Sorry,” He murmured again, a little quieter than before.

“I accept your apology.” Shinra started after a few moments of quiet, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you.” Izaya lifted his gaze to meet his friend’s serious expression. “What you did was so stupid and irresponsible, it makes me seriously doubt whether you can take care of yourself right now.” Shinra sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you Izaya, but I can tell you’re hurting and keeping that inside isn’t healthy.” For him or the people around him, Shizuo wanted to mutter, but that was a little selfish. “I want you to know you can always talk to me about anything,” Shinra continued, “I’m your friend.” Shizuo frowned, why hadn’t he been included in that? Shinra was talking like he was the only one on Izaya’s side when that wasn’t true at all. Shinra took a deep breath before he started speaking, and Izaya must have seen it as the precursor it was to the start of an uncomfortable conversation because almost as soon as Shinra started talking, Izaya cut him off. “If someone is hurting you—“

“I know.” Izaya interjected with force enough to silence Shinra’s words. His next words were so quiet, Shizuo had to strain to hear them. “I know I can talk to you, I’m just not good at that sort of thing.” If Shinra realised that Izaya had successfully evaded forming a response to his cut-off question, Shizuo couldn’t tell.

“Well you need to start practicing.” The brunette commanded, “I won’t grill you now but you have to know this isn’t just going to go away. I’m not going to forget.” Agreed, Shizuo thought to himself. He wanted answers and after today he was honestly past caring if it was any of his business or not.

Izaya sagged even further if that was at all possible. “I know.”

“We should get going now,” Shinra spoke after a few more minutes of peace, “Before someone decides to come looking for us.” Shizuo thought of their P.E teacher who’d completely failed to hunt them down after they ran off earlier. What a shitty teacher. “Can you walk?” Shinra asked Izaya once he’d stood and hefted his medical bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.” He answered, placing his feet a little firmer on the ground but without making any attempt to actually stand. Shizuo took it upon himself to stand in front of the other and offer out a hand to pull Izaya to his feet. He stumbled a little once vertical and Shizuo immediately shifted his hold so he had a hand around his waist to better support Izaya’s weight. Shinra smiled at the exchange and picked up Izaya’s school bag to carry on his opposite shoulder, stuffing the plastic bag filled with his wet clothes inside it.

The bell signalling the end of lunch had gone a while ago, somewhere between Shinra running off to gather his things and Shizuo holding Izaya down on the floor of the shower. It meant that the halls were empty when they left the locker room.

“You should go to the nurse.” Shinra spoke once they’d paused in the middle of the hallway. Izaya shook his head in a refusal that Shinra spoke right over. “Just to rest, say you have a headache or something.”

Izaya looked towards the room at the end of the hallway that Shizuo had become far too familiar with over the past year and a half at this school. “I’d rather just go home.” He eventually answered.

Shinra frowned distastefully, “But you can’t even walk, how will you—”

“I’ll take him.” Shizuo interrupted the other. “I was thinking about skipping the rest of class anyway.” He half lied, he’d thought about it, but knew without a doubt he’d be going wherever Izaya went.

“Alright, I guess that’s fine then.” Shinra relented, passing off Izaya’s school bag so Shizuo could sling it over the shoulder already carrying his own. “I hope you know I’m taking these.” Shinra pulled the orange bottle from his pocket that Shizuo would be happy to never see again. “And I better not find you going through my garbage like a racoon in the middle of the night.” He warned, placing it back in his school pants. Izaya huffed a laugh like Shizuo was sure he was supposed to and Shinra smiled. “And next time you feel the urge to do something crazy and self destructive, make sure you call me first.” He finished.

“I’ll think about it.” Izaya mumbled under a small smile. Shinra didn’t look especially convinced but he let it go anyway.

“See you later.” He chirped and spun on his heel to walk back down the adjacent hall where more classrooms and the school lockers sat. Shizuo still had so many questions but he knew he couldn’t exactly call him back and demand answers in front of Izaya; it’d be better to wait it out and message Shinra later.

Shizuo awkwardly shuffled out of the school building with the majority of Izaya’s weight pressed to his side. As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs leading to outside, he knew walking back like they were would be just as difficult, if not more so with what felt like every muscle in Izaya’s body out of commission, than the last time they’d been in this startlingly familiar situation. Shizuo paused after the last step and released his hold on Izaya in favour of crouching down in front of him instead. Izaya stumbled a bit at the sudden lack of support but quickly found his balance once more. Shizuo hoped he wouldn’t put up as much of a fight as he had the last time he offered to carry Izaya home. A hesitant hand met his shoulder and Shizuo was pleasantly surprised when Izaya moved to drape his hands around his neck and press his chest to the offer Shizuo had made of his back. He stood swiftly, gripping the back of Izaya’s legs to hitch him up a little higher along his back, and stepped forward to begin the walk out of the school grounds and onto the sidewalk that would lead them home.

Save for his breathing, Izaya kept quiet the entire walk back to his house, though Shizuo thought that might have been because he’d fallen asleep the moment he’d let his head drop to rest at the space between Izaya’s arm and the crook of Shizuo’s neck. Once the house came into view, Shizuo braced himself for Izaya to demand he be released before Shizuo went any further, just like he had last time. But Izaya remained fast asleep as Shizuo turned to make his way up the path leading to the house and then the set of steps preceding it. Even once he’d stopped in front of the door and felt the other boy’s eyelashes flutter open against the skin of his throat, Izaya made no move to release his hold on Shizuo’s body, instead he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled a key to extend out in front of Shizuo’s chest. Shizuo had to release one of Izaya’s legs to accept the key, Izaya just wrapped both tighter around Shizuo’s waist in an effort to keep himself up.

“It’s upside down.” Izaya murmured too close to Shizuo’s ear, chin resting on his shoulder, when Shizuo struggled to turn the key inside the lock.

“Shut up.” He mumbled back, pulling the key from the door to turn it over and try again with a little more success. Shizuo twisted the handle and pushed the door open before replacing his hold on Izaya’s leg. After stepping inside, he kicked the door shut behind him; Izaya still made no move to lessen the pressure of his thighs and let Shizuo drop him back to the ground. The house was empty as far as he could tell, and Shizuo wondered if that was why Izaya had let Shizuo carry him this far. “Is anyone home?” He asked.

“Nope.” Izaya sighed like he was relieved.

Shizuo looked to the set of stairs he knew Izaya wouldn’t make it up and wordlessly moved to climb them himself, very much aware that this was further than he’d ever made it before into the other’s home. He passed a room at the top of the landing that he could only assume was the twin’s, considering the mess of clothes strewn over two small beds that had been pushed together to form one. Shizuo thought he could see the purple unicorn he’d won for Izaya perched amidst the mess but didn’t pause long enough to be sure. The door of the next room was only half open and Shizuo pushed it the rest of the way upon Izaya’s lazy point in that direction.

It looked nothing like what he’d assumed the other’s room to . It looked… normal. Like a regular teenage boy’s room, simple and sparse and relatively clean, aside from the messed bed covers and a bloody shirt sat crumpled in the corner of the room. There was a desk with a laptop and a few piles of books and papers stacked atop folders. A closet, a chest of wooden draws, and a double bed.

Shizuo made for the bed first, turning his back to it so Izaya could release his hold and let himself fall back to the mattress beneath him. Shizuo let the other’s legs slip free from his grip as he went and then twisted to look back. Izaya had immediately fallen back to lay across the bed with closed eyes as soon as he met it. Shizuo stared at him for a second before kneeling down on the ground to untie the laces of the other’s shoes. He struggled to gain traction on the too tight knots. Goddamn it Shinra. Izaya had opened his eyes to stare down at Shizuo as he slipped the other’s shoes free from his feet and let them fall to the floor. Once he finished, Izaya twisted and pushed himself back to lay across the bed properly. “Shizu-chan is such a good nurse.” He teased, smirking tiredly.

“Shut up.” Shizuo mumbled back, taking a seat on edge of the bed. He let his eyes roam around the room again before they fell back to the blood stained shirt and he had to look away. “You really shouldn’t be here alone,” He said. Izaya had already turned onto his side as if to go to sleep.

“It’s fine,” He dismissed Shizuo’s concern, “I’m just gonna be sleeping anyway.”

“But what if you wake up sick again.” He argued.

Izaya sighed like Shizuo was being unreasonable, “You’ll just be bored if you stay.” He said, at least catching on to what Shizuo was wordlessly implying.

“I don’t care.” Shizuo shrugged, hoping he didn’t sound too obviously eager.

“Suit yourself.” Izaya huffed, and Shizuo knew that was as good an invitation as he was going to get. “If you’re gonna do that though make sure you wake me up in a couple of hours.”

“Okay.” Shizuo toed his shoes off to leave them next to Izaya’s by the bed and moved back on the mattress to sit against the headboard and stretch his legs out in front of him. Izaya sat up for a moment to pull his jacket off of his shoulders and throw it across the room before flopping to lay back down along the bed with his back to Shizuo. With nothing else to do Shizuo’s attention was drawn helplessly to the space around him once more; he inspected everything he saw with a little more detail, trying to piece together the things that made Izaya who he was. There were no sentimental trinkets left around, no posters or pictures taped to the walls, so Shizuo eyed the spines of what books Izaya had left out on his desk, reading the titles for what looked mostly like science related books, classic literature and some more obscure titles Shizuo hadn’t heard of. He let his gaze drift over the thick black binders stacked atop the desk and the smaller folders holding thin sheets of paper; he wondered what was inside them. Shizuo resisted the urge to stand from the bed and go through closets and draws until he knew everything he possibly could about the other boy, that sounded more like something Izaya would do.

Shizuo’s gaze caught at the expanse of Izaya’s half-closed door and the chunk of wood that had been axed out of it. He quickly realised that it was where a lock should have been but had instead been replaced with splintered wood and a small hole that went straight through to the other side. “What happened to the lock on your door?” He asked without taking his eyes off of it.

“Someone stole it.” Izaya mumbled next to him, half asleep and muffled by his pillow.

“Okay…” He responded warily.

That’s… a strange answer.

Shizuo turned away from the door and pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants, desperate for any kind of distraction else he spend the next few hours staring at Izaya sleeping next to him. He read through the photos he’d taken of Shinra’s notes that morning, before realising they were putting him to sleep where he sat and settled on watching an episode of a TV show he liked on Netflix with the volume off and the subtitles on instead. He slid down to lay on the bed as an alternative to sitting up and twisted on his side to face Izaya’s back so he could rest the hand holding his phone out in front of him.

He barely made it through the opening credits before his eyes weighed shut and he slipped into sleep with Izaya’s sheets pressed close to his face.

Chapter Text

Waking was a slow process for Shizuo, it felt like he drifted in and out of unconsciousness for a long span of time before actually accumulating the energy to open his eyes. He was so comfortable and warm, it felt as though it would be a crime to even entertain the idea of shifting over the bed and losing the glow he was basking in. He briefly wondered why his insurmountable strength didn’t extend to helping him get out of bed in the morning or assist in exercising self restraint; maybe then he’d deem it a little more useful and stop complaining about it so often.

Shizuo opened his eyes to a room that was not his own and had a fleeting moment of panic that always came with spending the night elsewhere — not that it had happened very often — but understanding quickly settled in and the hours that had unravelled before he feel asleep came bubbling to the surface. The room was darker than when he’d first arrived, he was sure; it held all the soft grey shadows of late afternoon, but there was still light coming in from under the curtains draped over the window, a warm orange glow that placed everything in an ethereal light.

Shizuo shifted against the bed, found that something warm was pressed to his back. He twisted with great effort to look over his shoulder, straining his neck in the process and found dark hair and pale skin that glowed in the afternoon light. Izaya was still asleep, breathing softly with both hands tucked to his chest, but his forehead was resting in the space between Shizuo’s shoulder blades and his knees were pressed to the backs of Shizuo’s thighs, curling in around his body in what looked like a search for warmth.

Shizuo’s muscles froze stiff as he lay staring, his heart starting to skip as quickly as he was sure the blood was rushing to his face. He tried to sit up as carefully as possible, moving slowly and softly so as to not wake Izaya beside him. Izaya shifted a little at the loss of warmth and pressure from another person’s body but kept his eyes closed. Instead of working to pull the blankets out from where they had been trapped beneath both their bodies, Shizuo slipped his school blazer off of his shoulders and draped it across Izaya’s curled up body as carefully as he could. Izaya ducked his face into the material and Shizuo forced himself to look away in search for his phone. He found it on the floor beside the bed, must have slipped from its surface at some point in the last however long it had been.

Shizuo sat back against the headboard and pressed the button along the side of his phone that brought it flickering to life. It had been just over a few hours since they’d arrived, late afternoon would be fading into evening soon, but Shizuo couldn’t bring himself to wake Izaya like he’d asked. Instead, he opened up the limited conversations he’d had on his phone and started messaging the one person he thought could really give him answers.

[4:41] Shizuo: Hey, can we talk?

Shinra was frighteningly quick to reply, like he’d been ready with his phone in hand for Shizuo’s inevitable interrogation all afternoon.

[4:42] Shinra: Okay! What’s up?

Shizuo could hear the chirp in the other’s voice even through the barrier of written language, and it pressed at the slow throb of his ever-forming headache like it always did.

[4:45] Shizuo: I know it’s not really any of my business so I won’t get angry if you don’t tell me, but I want to know what’s going on with Izaya. What were the drugs he was taking? You said something about prescribing them to him? What does he need them for?

Shizuo let the barrage of questions pushing to pain at the back of his head fall from his fingers in quick succession. He closed his phone to drop it into his lap, anticipating a wait for the response and half expecting them to go unanswered anyway. They didn’t.

[4:49] Shinra: Don’t let him know I told you this, I’m supposed to have client confidentiality and all that but I guess this isn’t exactly a normal situation. He’s been having bad insomnia for a while now so I very reluctantly prescribed him something to help him sleep. He was taking more than he should have been so it was probably making him sleep in late and be tired all day. The pills I found in his bag were stimulants, he would have been taking them to try and counteract the side effects of the other drug during the day, but he abused those too.

[4:49] Shinra: He didn’t really take enough to overdose, I think effects were mostly due to him mixing the drugs and maybe panicking about it as well.

Wow. Shizuo took the time to carefully read through the message, then read it again. He had no idea. It was strange seeing Izaya in the glow of a light that showed what desperate and stupid things he was capable of doing, that made him look so painfully human. Shizuo looked down to the boy still sleeping soundly beside him and wondered if he should mention to Shinra how quickly Izaya had fallen asleep now, how peaceful he looked for someone struggling with insomnia; but he was sure it didn’t work like that.

[4:52] Shizuo: Okay, thanks for telling me. But what can we do to help? I mean, how can you fix insomnia without drugs?

Shizuo wasn’t sure why was asking, whatever the answer, it was bound to be something he wasn’t capable of doing.

[4:55] Shinra: I don’t really know, I think he definitely should be seeing a therapist or at least a grief counsellor to help him figure out what’s keeping him from sleeping. But I’m almost positive you’ll never get him to agree to see one, he can be very stubborn.

No shit, Shizuo thought to himself, stubborn is a bit of an understatement.

[4:55] Shinra: Maybe he doesn’t feel safe? I couldn’t be sure, it’s not really my area of expertise.

Shizuo glanced back down at Izaya again, face pressed into a pillow and wrapped in Shizuo’s own jacket. Does he really feel safe enough to sleep next to me? Shizuo fought the need to reach out and push the hair falling down in front of Izaya’s closed eyes back behind his ear. That’s more than a little ironic.

Shizuo steeled himself to ask what he really wanted to know.

[4:58] Shizuo: What about the cut on his back, and the bruises? Surely you don’t believe he’s been falling down stairs all this time. What if someone is hurting him and that’s why he doesn’t feel safe?

Shinra’s response took a lot longer this time, the longest so far, but when it came Shizuo was grateful to see it void of anything saying how strange and slightly hypocritical it was for Shizuo to be worried about someone hurting Izaya.

[5:07] Shinra: Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But there’s really not much we can do if he doesn’t tell us who’s hurting him. It’d be dangerous to make assumptions, even if we already have suspicions.

Shizuo raced to type out a response, latching onto Shinra’s last word before he had a chance to take it back or change the subject.

[5:07] Shizuo: You have a suspicion?? Who do you think it is?

Shizuo waited impatiently for an answer. How long did it take to type out someone’s name?

[5:09] Shinra: I don’t think I want to tell you, you might go beat them up. It’s just a logical suspicion based on when things started happening but I haven’t even met the person so I have less than no evidence to base my suspicions on.

Shizuo could tell that Shinra was trying to word his message well, to keep it clear of any real answer; but in dodging his question so, Shizuo saw right through the wall of text and into what Shinra was trying too hard not to say. Maybe only because he’d been having similar suspicions himself.

[5:11] Shizuo: You think it’s his dad

[5:11] Shinra: Ummmmmm, no?

Shizuo rolled his eyes, dismissing the pathetic attempt at denial.

[5:13] Shizuo: I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I met him when I dropped Izaya home the other day. He gave off a weird vibe, not creepy exactly but maybe unstable? Like he wasn’t acting like who he really was? It’s hard to explain, I just kind of had this instinct telling me he was dangerous. But I don’t know if that’s just because he's related to Izaya or not.

[5:15] Shinra: Hmm, that’s interesting. I would usually say to trust your instincts but you could be right in that being related to Izaya comes with being unstable and a little strange. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s abusing anyone.

Shinra’s next message came quick, just after Shizuo had finished reading the last but far before he’d come up with an effective way to argue back.

[5:15] Shinra: But it’s still a possible theory and that means we should take it seriously. If you get to see him again maybe try to spend more time around him and figure out if your instincts are right or not.

That made sense, he guessed. But Shizuo really didn’t want to have to wait, and sneak around, and analyse someone like a goddamn detective. This felt too important, too pressing an issue to have to wait for concrete evidence. Couldn’t he just shake it out of Izaya?

[5:16] Shizuo: Okay, I’ll try.

Shizuo answered instead, because getting information out of an Orihara meant being discrete. If Izaya wouldn’t tell him what he wanted to know willingly, Shizuo would just have to find his own way of proving he wasn’t as oblivious as everyone thought he was.

Shizuo let the screen of his phone go blank with inactivity and turned to look at Izaya sleeping beside him. Now he really didn’t want to wake him, if sleep was a rare occurrence for the other boy Shizuo thought he needed all that he could get. Surely whatever he wanted to be woken up for could wait.

Maybe he has to pick up his sisters, Shizuo thought to himself with a start. But Izaya could barely hold himself up on two feet a few hours ago, Shizuo doubted he was in any condition to do more than that now. I can go get them, Shizuo had just resolved, was pulling his shoes in towards himself to begin the process of putting them back onto his feet when the sound of the front door opening startled him out of the action.

Voices became immediately audible and Shizuo sighed in relief as the high chirp of young girls came into earshot. He stood from the bed, carefully tiptoed his way over to the bedroom door left ajar and peeked outside of it. From where he was standing he couldn’t see over the balcony into the lower story but he could hear the voices a little better and stiffened as a third made itself known, the voice of a man he’d only ever heard once before. Izaya’s father must have brought the girls home from school; maybe that was why Izaya had wanted to be woken early, to make sure Shizuo was gone before the remainder of his family returned home.

Shizuo shifted awkwardly on the spot, trying to decide if it would be better hide inside and go unnoticed, to deal with the consequences if someone happened to barge into the room and find a stranger in Izaya’s bed, or if he should leave now and make his presence known, maybe apologise for the intrusion and offer clarity on the situation, why he had to help Izaya home. A high pitched laugh from the floor below startled Shizuo out of his thoughts. He looked back to the bed to make sure the sound hadn’t brought Izaya out of unconsciousness and, before he lost anymore confidence, slipped through the bedroom door, pushing it softly closed behind him.

Shizuo made his way down the stairs with careful attention to each quiet step, unable to curb the instinct to keep himself hidden and away from attention. It meant that when he reached the bottom floor and looked into the occupied living space of the kitchen and dining room, Shizuo had to take a deep breath and awkwardly clear his throat where he stood.

“Shizu-nii!!” One of the twins squealed and began barrelling towards Shizuo before he’d had the chance to open his mouth and offer a greeting or explanation for his presence either one. The small girl made impact with his stomach and another quickly followed, both wrapping their arms around his middle and bringing the cone of ice cream they each held in hand disconcertingly close to his clean school uniform. Shizuo quickly raised his gaze from the girls that had plastered themselves to his body and up to Izaya’s father standing in the kitchen, looking genuinely surprised at the sudden appearance of a practical stranger.

“Sorry for the intrusion.” Shizuo quickly blurted, bowing as best he could with two children still attached to his waist. “Izaya was sick so I had to help bring him home from school early.” Shizuo’s breath was coming faster with the anxiety that came with any awkward social interaction.

“Sick?” Shirou asked, looking up towards the second floor balcony where Izaya still lay sleeping. “That’s not good.” His brows drew down on worry, his eyes creased concern, and if he was faking it, Shizuo was fucking impressed. “Thank you for your help.” He acknowledged, turning back to face Shizuo once more.

Shizuo shifted uncomfortably under the sincerity of the other’s gaze. “It’s fine.”

“Iza-nii is sick?” Mairu, he was pretty sure, pulled back from her grip on Shizuo’s shirt, along with Kururi, to lick at the ice cream quickly melting to drip down her small fingers still clutching the cone. “Is he gonna be okay?” She asked, sounding concerned despite half of her attention still being held by cleaning the mess from her hand.

“Yeah, I think he’ll be okay.” He answered, not at all sure if he sounded anything close to reassuring.

“Will you be staying for dinner, Shizuo-kun?” Shirou spoke up from the kitchen, he’d turned around to face the stove as he set a pot of boiling water over it and began to turn the dial. Shizuo chewed the inside of his cheek, if Izaya’s reaction was going to be anything like last time, the last thing Shizuo wanted to do was force himself into the other’s space. But at the same time, this was what Shinra had said he should be doing — spending time around the other man to get a better read on him. Besides, he couldn’t very well refuse dinner from him a second time without sounding rude, could he?

“If that’s alright.” He answered.

Shirou turned to throw back a smile, “Of course it is.”

“Shizu-nii come sit with us.” Mairu demanded, using her free hand to grab at Shizuo’s own and pull him in the direction of the dining room table. She pushed him into a seat and took one beside his own, Kururi on her other side.

Mairu was in the midst of telling Shizuo a story about one of the girls in her class, how she’d brought her pet cat into school for show and tell, how it was so cute that Mairu had thought about stealing in when the other girl’s head was turned, when he caught sound of a door opening upstairs and soft footsteps coming down them. Shizuo turned away from Mairu just in time to watch Izaya reach the bottom of the staircase, to watch him settle his gaze over the extra family members now occupying his house, and to watch what looked like every drop of blood drain from his face. He looked horrified at the scene playing out before him, and Shizuo couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

Izaya schooled his expression with impressive speed and took small steps forward like he was fighting the urge to run back to his room and hide under the covers of his bed, like entering an interaction that involved Shizuo in the same space as the rest of his family was the last thing he had ever wanted for his life.

“Iza-nii!” Both girl’s shouted, making Izaya flinch. “We heard you’re feeling sick. Do you want some ice cream?” Mairu asked, extending the half eaten, half melted mess towards her brother.

Izaya grimaced, “No, thank you.” He ignored the girls in favour of pulling out the chair beside Shizuo and slipping into it with far more grace than Shizuo thought the other could currently hold, considering the almost bloodless pale of his skin and the exhaustion still pulling down at his eyes.

“Are you feeling any better?” Shirou asked without turning away from whatever he was putting together in the kitchen. Even without physically touching, Shizuo could all but feel the way Izaya tensed up at the other man’s words as though there were no space between them.

“Yeah, i’m just tired.” He answered, shifting in his seat like he was uncomfortable.

“Shizu-nii is staying for dinner!” Mairu interrupted the tense atmosphere by bringing Izaya’s attention swinging up from where it had been fixed on the table.

“Don’t harass Shizu-chan into spending time with you.” He chided, tired eyes narrowing at the other girl.

“They didn’t harass me.” Shizuo spoke quick, whether it was to defend the girls or reassure Izaya, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Oh.” Izaya answered quietly, somewhere between surprise and concern. He looked like he wanted to be relieved but couldn’t help holding onto nervousness. It began to fade a little as the sky outside the windows darkened into night, as street lights began to flicker on all at once, but never quite left him completely.

By the time the room was beginning to fill with the sweet smell of food, Shizuo had been interrogated by the twins about almost every aspect of his existence; where he lived, what his favourite food was, if he had any pets — it was starting to exhaust him quicker than conversation usually did.

“Shizu-nii,” Mairu started again, with Kururi eyeing him intently from her side, and Shizuo braced himself. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah,” He answered warily, “I have a little brother.”

Their small, round faces lit up like Christmas trees. “What’s his name?! Can we see a picture!?” Mairu squealed, climbing up out of her chair and half onto the table to get closer. Shizuo leaned back further in his chair on instinct and swore he heard Izaya huff a laugh beside him. “Okay, okay!” He quickly relented, just to watch them retreat back into their seats and leave him feeling less like a cornered animal. “His name is Kasuka.” Shizuo pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, swiping through the photos he held on his camera roll until one appeared that featured his brother. It was one of his favourites; it had been taken at the beach last year, Shizuo stood smiling wide dressed in summer clothes and with an arm draped across Kasuka’s shoulders, who was, well, smiling as much as Kasuka could ever smile.

Shizuo turned the phone towards the girls and pointed at the shorter boy standing close to him. “That’s Kasuka.” He explained.

Mairu grabbed at Shizuo’s hand holding the phone to bring it closer to her face. “He’s beautiful.” She gasped, wide eyed and in awe. Kururi tried to pull the phone away from her sister and closer to her own view. “He might be even prettier than Shizu-nii!” Shizuo was finally able to bring his hand back from the girls' grasp, much to their disappointment, and Izaya immediately leant further forward in his seat to get a better view of the photo himself, a small smile quirking his lips. Shizuo slipped his phone back into his pocket, fighting the self-conscious flush he knew wanted to break out onto his skin and reached forward to grasp the glass of water the girls had gotten for him at some point during their questioning.

“We want to meet Kasu-chan!” Mairu demanded, slapping her hand down onto the table.

Kururi tugged at the sleeve of her sister’s shirt to gather her attention before speaking quietly. “Marry.” Shizuo heard her murmur and Mairu’s eyes glowed even brighter.

“Yes! That’s a great idea, Kururi!” She bubbled, throwing her fist up into the air above her head. “Iza-nii and Shizu-nii should marry so we can be with Kasu-chan!”

Shizuo choked on the water he’d just sipped from his glass, it was only through sheer force of will that he managed to swallow it before beginning to cough. What is it with people talking about marriage and me choking on water? Shizuo thought to himself in the midst of his struggling.

Izaya huffed another laugh from beside Shizuo as the girls began to fret over ‘almost killing their Shizu-nii’, Mairu slapped her small hand down against Shizuo’s back which had all the impact of a fly landing at his skin. “That’s not how it works, girls,” Izaya began to object, “Then you’d be related to him, and you can’t marry people you’re related to.”

Mairu drew her hand back from Shizuo’s back and looked on at her big brother in confusion. “Huh? Why not?” She demanded, “I’m going to marry Kururi one day.”

If Shizuo had still been drinking, he was sure he would have been choking again too. He even caught Shirou turning to look at the girls in his peripheral vision, a surprised and maybe only slightly disturbed expression painting his features. Izaya just smiled wryly at them. “Ah, I really don’t have the energy to argue that one.” He sighed.

The girls ignored Izaya in favour of conversing animatedly about how they would incorporate their new love, Kasuka, into their wedding ceremony. Shirou slowly turned back to cutting up something over the kitchen counter. “I mustn’t have done a very good job at helping raise them.” Izaya sighed again, only loud enough for Shizuo to hear. “I guess there’s not much to be done about it now.”

Shizuo thought it was sweet, maybe a little disturbing, but also sweet. It just reminded him how young and innocent they really were, that things must be so simple and straightforward for them; I love someone and so I’ll love them, and I’ll be with them, and it doesn’t matter if anyone tells me otherwise. He almost envied that kind of carefree thinking, that ability to distance yourself from other people’s opinions.

Dinner was less awkward than Shizuo had imagined it would be, with the twin’s constant babbling and entertainment. Shizuo finished his meal and thought it was delicious, even if Izaya only ate a third of it and spent the rest of the time pushing things around the bowl with his chopsticks.

“Are you still feeling sick?” Shirou asked once everyone else’s chopsticks had clattered back into empty bowls.

Izaya’s gaze shot up from where it had been locked onto his food, startled out of whatever train of thought had been keeping him hostage. “Yeah a little bit.” He answered, finally picking up a bit of cooked vegetable to place in his mouth.

"That’s alright, don’t force yourself.” Shirou insisted. Izaya placed the chopsticks back into his bowl and surrendered it to Shirou’s grasp who stood to collect the rest of them as well, piling each on top of the other to carry them back into the kitchen.

“Do you need me to help.” Izaya quickly asked, getting ready to push himself from the table and onto his unsteady feet, but Shirou waved his hand before Izaya could manage it.

“No, it’s fine.” Izaya slowly relaxed back into his seat and Shizuo watched the other wring his hands nervously under the kitchen table, caught by such an out of character action. The girls began discussing what movie they’d watch before going to bed, and once they’d decided — on something Shizuo had never before heard of — and stood to skip in the direction of the lounge room, Shizuo knew it was the time for him to leave; before he was convinced to stay any longer, before his parents starting texting anxiously, wondering where he was, if they hadn’t already.

“I should get going before it gets any later.” Shizuo excused himself, standing from the table.

“I’ll walk you out.” Izaya quickly followed.

“Okay, just let me go get my shoes.” Shizuo made quick work of climbing the stairs back to Izaya’s room. He found his jacket, the one he’d left draped over the other’s body, neatly folded and sitting on the bed. Shizuo picked it back up with a small smile and slipped his arms into the sleeves. Once he had his shoes back on his feet, Shizuo left the room and made his way back downstairs. Izaya was waiting for him by the front door. “Thank you again for dinner.” He paused to speak in the direction of the kitchen on his way out.

Shirou turned to smile gently in return. “You’re welcome Shizuo-kun. Have a safe walk home.” He offered.

“Bye Shizu-nii!” He heard the twins chorus from further back inside the lounge room, where they’d already made themselves comfortable along the couch in front of the TV. Shizuo turned away from the lively glow of inside and followed Izaya out through the front door and onto the lamp-lit pathway outside. They paused at the edge of the yard, where the path leading away from the house joined up to the one lining the side of the street.

“Thanks for helping me home.” Izaya started, pushing both hands into the pockets of his jeans. He still looked unnaturally pale but the cold outside was beginning to dust a little more colour onto his cheeks and over his nose. “Again.”

Shizuo shrugged, “It’s fine. It was the least I could do.”

The silence seemed to hang in the air for a moment but Izaya still looked like he had something else to say. He finally took a deeper than normal breath and spoke. “Sorry.” He quickly blurted, like the only way to get the words out were to force them free quicker than his brain could catch up with them. “For today,” He explained further, “I didn’t want anyone to have to see that, it was kind of embarrassing.”

Shizuo stopped breathing for a second, his muscles tensing up and an overwhelming surge of frustration rushing through him for a moment. “What?” He asked in disbelief, “You’re embarrassed? After all of that, after everything you went through, everything you put us through, you’re worried about being embarrassed?” Shizuo didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he couldn’t bite the incredulity off the edge of his words no matter how hard he tried.

Izaya frowned. “I never asked for your help, in fact I would have been fine without it, so don’t complain to me about making stupid decisions that only inconvenience yourself.” He hissed, body visibly winding tighter with every word.

“What the fuck?” Shizuo growled, voice rising just as quickly as he could feel his temper was. “Are you that much of an idiot?” Izaya’s brows drew down further, his own anger flaming bigger in response to Shizuo’s words. “You think I’m complaining because you inconvenienced me? You scared us half to death, Izaya! For all I knew you were going to kick the fucking bucket right in front of me!” He yelled, restraint all but dissipated.

“And wouldn’t that just make your wildest dreams come true!” Izaya spat back, eyes vicious, mouth razor sharp.

Shizuo flinched like he’d been slapped; he was breathing hard, his eyes were going hot with frustration and Shizuo wasn’t entirely sure if he was going to cry or rip the boy in front of him to shreds. He knew neither were an option right now.

Shizuo forced himself to look away from Izaya and off to the side of the road, to focus on a street light in the distance as he made the effort to slow his shaky breathing and unclench the fists that he’d unintentionally formed at his sides. It had only been a number of seconds, but when Shizuo brought his gaze back to Izaya in front of him, he felt significantly more calm and Izaya looked visibly surprised, maybe even a little impressed.

“You know that’s not true.” He finally spoke, resolute and clear; if it still came out a little rough around the edges, that couldn’t really be helped. Izaya sucked in a breath, at the sincerity in Shizuo’s voice or the expression he was wearing on his face, he couldn’t tell. Izaya bowed his head to look at the pavement beneath them and Shizuo took the opportunity to take a slow step forward, and then another. Izaya’s head came up to watch Shizuo warily, like he was waiting for the other to strike at him but wasn’t quite willing to submit and take a step back. Shizuo took it as the sign it wasn’t to continue and move closer, until he could bring both arms out to wrap around Izaya’s body and hold him there.

Izaya immediately froze, every part of him stiffening at the contact; Shizuo thought he might have stopped breathing. “What are you doing?” He asked quietly.

Shizuo’s face flushed red where Izaya couldn’t see it, his breathing was starting to match the out of time pace of his heart. “I’m hugging you.” He explained, like Izaya wasn’t familiar with the notion. “Don’t you know how to hug someone back?” He grumbled, using the rough edge of his voice to cover his quick rising self-consciousness. Shizuo could feel Izaya shift, was close enough to see the tendons on his neck move with the action of turning his head to look at the window behind them, to see the curtains drawn across them preventing anyone’s view to the outside. Then he felt the other’s arms tense to move where Shizuo had pinned them under his own. He braced himself, to be pushed, or shoved away, closed his eyes to the impact that never came. Izaya freed his arms from between their bodies and slowly brought them up to fall over Shizuo’s shoulders and curl uncertainly around his neck. Shizuo let his breath go with the action, let relief drive him to move his hands down Izaya’s back, careful to avoid the bandage he knew was still there, and wrap his arms around the other’s waist. Izaya let some of the tension in his body go with the more comfortable position, let more of his own weight relax and press to Shizuo’s chest in front of him. Shizuo pulled Izaya in even closer and tightened his arms until Izaya let his head fall forward to rest at Shizuo’s shoulder, to breathe against the crook of his neck, to melt into his hold completely.

Shizuo could have stayed longer, he felt like he could have stayed there all night, but when Izaya eased his hold and made to pull away from the other’s body, Shizuo let him go, stepping back to replace the space between them. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, at the carnival.” Shizuo suggested, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” Izaya agreed, “I’ll see you then.” Shizuo took another deep breath and reluctant step back, turning to walk out along the road. After a few steps he twisted to look back for a moment.

“Bye.” He spoke again, waiting for Izaya to huff a small laugh and wave back like he was entertaining a child.

“Bye.” Shizuo smiled and turned away again, resisting the urge to look back once more and see if Izaya was still watching him, if he was still holding to that smile that made Shizuo’s heart jump through fucking hoops. God what was wrong with him? It felt like every time he made this same walk back home — which had been more often that not the past couple of weeks — something that had taken root in his chest was growing bigger, spreading further to wind its way through every part of his body, making it harder to ignore and no easier to understand.

I’ve never felt like this before, he thought to himself. Is this friendship?

But he hadn’t gone through the same things when he’d met Kadota, or Shinra, or even Kasuka. This was different, this was new. Was this what it felt like to become a better person, to forgive, to wipe away a course of conflict that had been slowly eating him from the inside out?

Despite the dark outside, the lateness of the hour, Shizuo continued to walk home at an unhurried pace, letting the lamps lining the street light his way back.

Or is this something else entirely?

Chapter Text

When Izaya woke, it felt like he’d had cotton stuffed into his head.

Yesterday had been exhausting and shameful and last night, no better. The evening had left him feeling jittery and sick, the constant strain of it pulling his muscles tight along every line of his body. He’d barely slept, which was nothing new, but with the few hours of rest he’d caught yesterday afternoon with Shizuo in the room, he was able to make it out of bed just after dawn had broken free with only a little less difficulty than usual.

Izaya immediately made for the shower, eager to be rid of the uncomfortable layer of grime he felt still remained even after yesterday’s impromptu shower in the locker room; the one that had left him cold and shaking, with Shizuo’d hands running through his hair to ease him back to clarity. Izaya was only just able to manage pulling at the bandage taped to his back enough to peel it free, and forwent properly cleaning in favour of letting the shower water do the job for him. It still stung, like he knew it would, but at least he wasn’t watching bloody water pool at his feet and slip down the drain.

After stepping out of the shower, Izaya set to rummaging through the bathroom cabinet in search for what he’d need to complete the impossible task of re-bandaging his back. A minute’s worth of searching left him mostly empty handed, and Izaya realised that he must have depleted most of their first-aid supplies over the last few months without realising it. There was another kit in the kitchen; placed there for emergencies and mostly untouched. He’d just have to use that one, he told himself.

Back in his room, Izaya set to rummaging through his dresser of draws instead, exceedingly grateful that the occasion didn’t demand he wear his school sports uniform as it still sat a sopping wet mess in the bottom of his school bag. He pulled on a pair of normal running shorts instead, some fancy sport brand he hadn’t been really looking at when he bought them. They were a little short, showed off more than half of his thighs to the winter air, but allowed for the most freedom when it came to running. Izaya threw a black T-shirt on over his head before leaving his bedroom and making his way downstairs.

Shirou was in kitchen, at the counter making coffee. Izaya hadn’t really anticipated anyone else being up this early, and he almost considered turning to go back upstairs and feign sleep for a couple more hours. But that’d only draw more attention to himself if Shirou happened to turn and see, so Izaya kept walking toward the kitchen cuboard sitting just above where Shirou now stood. Shirou was already dressed, in his usual suit pants and white shirt, but he looked more of a mess than Izaya had ever seen him upon waking, his eyes were dark with exhaustion, his hair tousled from a too restless night; he looked like he’d slept about as much as Izaya had himself.

“Morning.” Izaya spoke politely upon reaching the other man’s side, and Shirou flinched like he hadn’t heard Izaya coming at all.

“Morning.” He murmured back.

“Can I get something down from there?” Izaya asked, gesturing to the cupboard overhead. Shirou immediately stepped out of the way so Izaya could better access it, stepping up onto his tippy toes to bring down the overlarge box of first-aid supplies more suited to the back of an ambulance than the cupboard of a family kitchen. He set it down on the counter to open it and began drawing out the things he’d need — gauze, tape, scissors, some saline solution — all the while struggling to ignore Shirou staring at him from off to the side. He was just about to grab the things he’d extracted from the box, pile them up in one hand and carry them back to the privacy of the bathroom, when Shirou spoke quietly from beside him.

“Can I help?” He asked. Izaya paused in picking up the last of his items to duck his head and frown.

“That’s okay, I can manage it myself.” The words came out clearer than he’d been expecting, they made him sound more firm and sure of himself than he thought he was currently capable. Shirou huffed a breath from next to him, like Izaya’s words had made impact enough to force it out of him. He listened to the man take a deep breath.

“Please?”

Izaya froze where he stood, his whole body had gone rigid. Had he accidentally woken up into some obscure universe that was not his own, one where Shirou was begging him for something? Izaya shifted uncomfortably on his feet, worried about what would happen if he refused the man a second time. He glanced back towards the stairs behind him; even if he ran for them, locked himself in the bathroom just to escape the interaction, where would that ultimately leave him? Izaya sighed softly, letting the supplies he still held fall back to the counter below him. Surely it wasn’t going to make things any worse, let him take sadistic pleasure in marvelling at his own work if that was what the fucking lunatic wanted.

“Fine.” Izaya agreed, closing his eyes and bowing his head as he quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head in one smooth movement. He couldn’t help but start to breath a little faster; it was strange how self-conscious and vulnerable he felt just by removing the one layer of clothing, like he was breaking down a barrier that had been keeping him safe. Shirou was staring at Izaya’s back, Izaya could feel it, and when reached out to touch the reddened skin just shy of the wound itself — like he’d done with the cuts than were now fading to pale, thin scars on his stomach — he could feel that too, thought it a miracle he didn’t flinch away from the contact. He tried his best not to shudder under the other’s touch, to not let his immense discomfort be known, but wasn’t sure if he was as successful. Shirou let his fingers draw down Izaya’s skin to run along the edge of the wound, like he was tracing with his touch what he was with his gaze. Izaya closed his eyes tighter, held his breath and willed away the sudden urge to cry, when the touch drew back more suddenly than it had appeared.

“Sorry.” Shirou breathed, and Izaya’s own breath caught in his throat, his brain short-circuited on confusion because it sounded like he meant it. Shirou sighed softly, “I don’t know what I was thinking,” And Izaya felt like scoffing, as if that made up for anything, but he kept quiet instead. Shirou didn’t wait for Izaya’s acceptance or refusal of his apology either one, only picked up the bottle of saline solution sitting on the counter to upend it over a cotton round and begin cleaning the wound on Izaya’s back. Izaya kept his eyes closed while the other man worked, let his imagination take over in an effort to save him from the reality of the situation; he imagined it was Shinra behind him, going through the motions of tending to his wounds with that professional, if not delicate ease he always seemed to save for fixing patients up. He imagined it might have been Shizuo holding him steady under the spray of cold water, using his bare hands to clean the blood from Izaya’s back, before Izaya quickly dismissed the thought at once. Shirou pressed the gauze to his back and taped over the edges, Izaya opened his eyes to watch on warily as Shirou lifted the sharp-edged scissors lying over the bench away from its surface and back out of Izaya’s view. He heard the sound of Shirou cutting the edges of the tape to smooth symmetrical lines and sighed relief too quiet for the other man to hear when he placed the scissors back onto the counter.

“Thanks.” Izaya whispered quietly when Shirou was finished, his voice tight like the words were choking him. He quickly pulled his shirt back on over his head, let it fall to cover the pale skin of his back from Shirou’s view, and began packing the first-aid supplies away into the box.

“Do you need a lift to the carnival today?” Shirou asked as Izaya was lifting the box over his head to push it back into the cupboard. “Mairu and Kururi really want to see you run, I thought we could all go down there together.”

Izaya closed the cupboard and lowered himself from the balls of his feet back to his heels slowly. He really didn’t want them to come but had neglected to think of any another way to get there. It’d be more than a hours walk from the house, and with his ankle still tender from reckless use of it the day before, he really didn’t want to risk being out of commission before even getting to the race. He could probably ask someone to pick him up and drop him off, Shinra, or Kadota, or even Shizu-chan as the most convenient option, but he guessed this would be fine too. If his sisters were in the car he’d feel a little safer, as awful as that was, using their presence as a metaphysical barrier between Shirou and himself.

“Yeah, okay.” He answered, and Izaya turned to make back for the stairs, where he could retreat to his room for the next couple of hours until they would have to leave. “I’m gonna go do some homework until we have to go.” He lied, already moving away from where Shirou still stood in the kitchen.

“Make sure you wake your sisters before we leave.” Shirou reminded him as he was taking even paced steps away from him. “They’ll sleep in all day otherwise.”

“Yeah, okay.” Izaya repeated himself, and only relaxed once he’d climbed the stairs and had his bedroom door closed behind him. Izaya slid into the seat by his desk and opened the laptop sitting atop it. The anxiety of answering messages he’d been neglecting to read for too long almost had him jumping up out of his seat and pacing the carpeted floor with his laptop still in hand, but he forced himself to sit still where he was, to breath through the careful act of crafting delicate excuses and insincere apologies. He sent off a project he’d finally finished for Shiki, one which he hoped would make up for his unadvised vacation from any recent work. Once the well organised file of everything Izaya had compiled in regards to one of Shiki’s potential subordinateness was on its way through the invisible online network, Izaya moved the thin folder containing all the physical evidence of his work inside one of the thick black binders stacked atop his desk, the ones that were filled with all other client folders and arranged in a fashion only he could ever make sense of.

When the sun began to brighten into a more reasonable weekend waking hour, when there was only maybe an hour left before they should be leaving, Izaya closed his laptop and left his room to make his way next door instead. “Mairu, Kururi.” He called softly, knocking at the door to make his presence known before twisting the handle and walking in without a reply.

They were already awake, that much was obvious, though for how long they had been Izaya wasn’t sure. They both sat huddled on one bed, facing each other like they were conspiring about something in secret. “Morning.” They chirped once Izaya stepped inside.

“Morning.” Izaya mumbled back, stepping across the room the pull at the curtains covering their window and keeping their room dark to bathe it in the light from outside; despite the curtains still being drawn closed across the window of his own bedroom. Izaya felt like hissing at the onslaught of light, but closed his eyes instead, only opening them once he’d turned around and away from the view of the outside world. “How long have you girls been up?” He asked, taking a seat on the edge of one of their beds.

“Only a little while, we needed to talk about you.” Izaya turned to face them, startled in spite of himself at the abrupt confession.

“Okay…” He answered, a little confused and wary of even approaching the subject. “You were talking about me?” Did he even want to know?

“Yeah.” Mairu spoke, but they both nodded their heads simultaneously. Izaya was bracing himself to ask but he didn’t have to, Mairu blurted the words before Izaya could urge them from her himself. “Daddy says he’s worried about you,” She tried to explain, “That you’re hurting yourself.”

Izaya thought he should be angry, maybe feel a little betrayed, but he couldn’t even find it in him to feel surprised, he just stared at the ground in front of him with half lidded eyes and a feeling of hopelessness he’d never experienced so much in his life as he had the past few months; maybe there was an exception to that, but Izaya shook his head to force the train of thought away from its tracks before it could really get anywhere.

“Iza-nii?” Mairu’s voice was quiet now, had lost that bubbly chirp with Izaya’s prolonged silence.

Izaya sighed. “I’m fine,” He tried to reassure them, “Da—”, He swallowed hard, “Shirou is just being paranoid. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He stretched out a hand to ruffle one of the girl’s sleep tousled hair, and then the other. Izaya quickly glanced behind him before taking another breath, “Just, be careful around him, okay?” He urged them, “I know you think he’s your dad but you don’t know him very well, neither of us do.” He lowered his voice. “Make sure you tell me if he ever does something that scares you or makes you feel unsafe, Okay?”

The twins nodded their heads in slow response and Kururi opened her mouth like she had something to say, but the words fell short before she could give them sound.

“What is it?” He tried to coax her, turning to Mairu when Kururi closed her mouth completely. Mairu lowered her gaze to the bed sheets she was sitting on, began to fiddle with the ears of the purple unicorn Izaya had only just now noticed was sitting in her lap.

“Sometimes,” She started, and Izaya braced himself, tried to swallow down the sick feeling clawing its way up his throat with such a tentative start in sentence. “When you get into trouble, and he yells at you, it scares us.” She spoke quietly, and Izaya fought the urge to breath a sigh of relief, because this was still bad, they were still scared and hurting and confused after hearing things no small children should; it was just that it was for his sake instead of their own. “We don’t want daddy to be angry at you,” She began to sniffle, “We want all of us to be a happy family again.” The tears began to fall in earnest and Izaya reached out to pull the small girl into his chest and muffle the sob he could tell was coming. Mairu clutched at his shirt, hiccupping into it as Izaya stroked the back of her head and held his other arm out for Kururi to crawl into. She shifted over the bed with watery eyes and moved close enough to throw her arms around his neck; he ducked his head between their two shoulders and squeezed them the tighter.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, blinking back heat at his own lashes. “I’ll try harder, I promise.” He pulled them closer. “You don’t need to worry about anything.” Izaya tried to convince them, tried to convince himself. Every sob made his heart ache where it sat inside his chest; he felt so selfish. The hiccuping gasps for breath eventually even back out into soft sniffles and Izaya pulled back from embracing them to smile and wipe what tears he could from their flushed cheeks. “Things will get better.” He promised them, smiling softly. “I won’t let you down.”

And they said I’d forgotten how to lie.

Izaya took a shaky breath and let his hands fall back to his sides. “Are you coming to watch me race?” He piped up, trying to change the subject and force some light into his voice; their tired eyes lit up with the slightest bit of hope.

“Can we?” Mairu asked, using a hand to scrub at her eyes.

“Only if you can get ready in time.” Izaya warned them, making a show of looking down at his wrist bare of any watch. “We don’t have long now.”

The girls immediately clambered up from the bed in unison, all previous tears pushed aside, if not forgotten, for the sake of flinging clothes out of draws and stripping out of pyjamas with a haste that left them almost tripping over clothes caught around their legs. Izaya smiled softly and stood to walk back through the door, closing it behind him to leave them some privacy.

Izaya stepped back into his room to make a quick change out of his shirt and into another that wasn’t damp from salty tears and snotty noses. While he was there, he grabbed his phone and a pair of running shoes that weren’t the ones still wet and probably moulding in his school bag, before making his way back downstairs. Shirou was still in the kitchen, but this time in the process of wrapping up neatly made sandwiches and snacks to place inside the girl’s school lunchboxes. Shirou glanced back as Izaya took a seat at the dining table to pull his running shoes onto his feet and tie the laces tight enough that there would be no chance of them coming undone while he was running.

“Do you want me to make you something too?” He asked.

Izaya shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll just get something from the canteen there if I’m hungry.” He insisted — not that he thought Shirou would go quite so far as to poison him, but he was still wary of accepting something made especially for him all the same.

“Okay.” Shirou shrugged, turning back to finish packing his sister’s boxes. Once the hands on the clock by the wall were cutting close to the hour, Izaya had to return upstairs and usher them down by force, grabbing their backpacks and carrying their shoes on the way. Shirou packed their lunch into their bags and Izaya helped tie their shoes while he did so. He all but dragged them out to the car and pushed them into the back seat so he could slip into the front while Shirou started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

The quiet fitting itself carefully into the space of the car didn’t necessarily feel strained with the girls chatting softly in the back seat, which meant Izaya found it nothing short of devastating when Shirou decided to break it. “So, who are you doing the relay with? Is it someone you know from your class?”

Izaya fought the urge to groan out loud, was it too much to ask for a car trip spent in silence? Shirou being nice was almost just as bad as Shirou being a psychotic prick.

So you apologised for beating me bloody and now you think we can be friends? Un-fucking-likely. Izaya’s words were bitter in the space of his head, but when he spoke aloud they came soft with submission; they made him feel dead inside.

“Yeah,” He replied quietly, “I’m running with Shizu-ch—uo.” Izaya caught himself halfway through the other’s nickname, leaving the rest of it to tumble from his mouth a mess of syllables and sound.

“Shizucho?” Shirou asked, bemused; Izaya cringed.

“Shizuo.” He corrected himself.

Shirou huffed a laugh, sounding more amused at Izaya’s expense than he thought the other had any right to be. “You two must be close.” He suggested and Izaya blanched. “How long have you been friends?”

“We’re not.” He denied, “I only call him that because it annoys him. We hate each other.” Izaya tried to explain, the words tasting something like lies on his tongue.

“Stop lying Iza-nii.” Mairu interrupted the conversation, apparently deciding to put her own on pause for the sake of eavesdropping into Izaya’s at the worst possible moment. “Shizu-nii doesn’t hate you, he has this special light in his eyes when he looks at you.” She declared, eyes all but sparkling where she was leaning forward into the front of the car as best she could with a seatbelt still strapped to holding her back.

Izaya could feel the blood drain from his face in his utter mortification. “Be quiet, Mairu.” He deadpanned, turning to stare out the window of the car and watch the people they rolled past with forced interest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What?” Mairu asked defensively. “You’ve never had any friends over before, why can’t we be happy that you have someone to talk to that aren’t your work people.” Her voice dipped low into mockery on the last two words, making her disdain for the people Izaya did business with on occasion blatantly obvious, despite him making sure she’d never had the opportunity to meet any of them.

Izaya looked away from the scenery passing by outside his window and caught his own gaze by chance in the mirror that folded down from the roof of the car. He looked back at the purple and blue painting his expression — at the dark in his eyes that only seemed so much more so when it was surrounded with the bruises it was, that only felt the more strange, the more wrong, since he’d found another set of eyes that held too similar a colour and just as much darkness — until he had to flip the mirror up and back into the roof just so he could be rid of his own discoloured stare.

The remainder of the drive could not have gone slower, and Izaya fought the urge to push open the weight of the door at his side and launch himself out of the car at every red light or stop sign they came across. Once Shirou had pulled into a parking space at the grounds of which the carnival was being held, it was all he could do to wait until the car had rolled to a stop before unbuckling his belt and exiting the vehicle. He didn’t look back to see how far the others were behind him, if the girls had tumbled out of the car just as quickly after his own hasty retreat.

Izaya made his way up to the table set out front of the entry to the sport centre grounds and searched for his name on the papers splayed across their surface. He found it eventually and marked it off with a pen before flipping back through the pages to search for Shizuo’s name instead. It had already been marked, which meant he must waiting in the stands somewhere or out on the field warming up. Izaya left the table and walked into the grounds where rows of benches were set out and occupied by proud family members and friends alike. He searched the field further below the stands, where dozens of teenagers, most in matching fancy sports attire, were stretching with their teammates.

“Hey.”

Izaya jumped at the burst of sound so close, the familiar voice pulling him out of his search for blonde hair and broad shoulders to twist around instead. “Hey.” He breathed back at the sight of Shizuo before hime, clad in running shorts that almost cut as high as Izaya’s own and a navy sports singlet that showed off the tanned skin of his biceps.

“We should go warm up and get ready.” Shizuo suggested, jerking his head in the direction of the sports field down below the cascading rows of benches.

“Yeah, okay.” Izaya stepped forward and around Shizuo to meet Shirou and his sisters halfway across where they were walking into the grounds. “I’m going to go warm up now.” He called once he’d caught their attention.

“Okay, we’ll be watching from the stands.” Shirou assured him. “Good luck.”

“Good Luck Iza-nii!!” Mairu and Kururi chorused in time with each other.

“Thanks.” Izaya watched them turn away to walk through the stands in search of somewhere spare to sit before turning away himself to follow Shizuo down onto the field. Every step closer to the grassy oval sent his heart pumping harder, his breathing coming a little faster, at this rate Izaya thought he’d be sweating with nervousness before they even started running. They stepped out onto the field and Izaya took the opportunity to look up at the grandstands rising on a slope in front of them, packed to the brim with bodies. Izaya wondered if Shizuo’s own parents were up there — maybe his brother too — cheering them on in support of their eldest son. Someone waving their hands wildly and calling his name from one of the benches closest to the field caught his attention, and Izaya twisted to find Shinra and Kadota sidled up in the front row of the grandstand, cheering their names and holding handmade posters decorated to support Raijin High.

“How embarrassing.” Izaya cringed from beside Shizuo, where they’d paused to look out at the friends that had come to support them. Shizuo gave a small wave in their direction.

“At least we’re not wearing the uniform, no one will know it’s us they’re cheering for.” Shizuo tried to reassure Izaya, or himself, it didn’t matter because not a second later Shinra was shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying across the field; Izaya thought it could carry halfway across the city.

“DON’T FALL OVER IZAYA, WE BELIEVE IN YOU!!”

Izaya’s jaw went slack in disbelieving horror. “Maybe not.” Shizuo mumbled from beside him.

“What the hell kind of support it that.” He grumbled, lifting his middle finger up to face it in Shinra’s general direction.

“Hey.” Shizuo huffed a laugh at the offensive display, bringing a hand of his own out to grasp at Izaya’s and pull it back down to his side. “Don’t do that.” He chastised the other, a small smile threatening his lips. But Shinra was still grinning, waving back at the two of them like Izaya had thrown flowers at him. “Let’s go.” Shizuo spoke, pulling at his hold on Izaya’s wrist to turn and continue their way further into the centre of the field where the other students were practising.

They began stretching as soon as they found a clear spot for themselves, Izaya tried not to let himself feel intimidated by the contenders around him, stretching like they’d been trained in the art and wearing shoes that looked like they cost more than a weeks worth of his rent. He kept his eyes down on the grass in front of him and worked to even his breathing as much as to ease the tension from his muscles; he hoped it didn’t look too much like he was doing yoga to anyone who happened to be watching.

A voice crackled to life on the speakers lining the stands, and Izaya paused in his stretching to listen:

“Ten minutes until the relays will begin. Please finish your warm ups and make your way over to the start line to follow instructions and wait until your race.”

Izaya sighed, “Guess we better go now.” Shizuo grunted his agreement and began walking away towards the far edge of the oval where the races would start, all without ever looking up from where his gaze was trained on the ground below him.

The races were being organised by age, so Shizuo and Izaya were placed in a group of who they’d be up against and asked to wait off to the side of the field until it was their turn to begin. Izaya stood patiently beside Shizuo and focused on taking deep inhales, on clearing his head of anything but the present moment. But if Izaya thought he was nervous, he soon found that Shizuo was struggling with a whole new level of anxiety. The races started, first year high schoolers were being lined up and sent off to run, and Izaya watched Shizuo flinch every time the gun that marked the start of their race fired into the sky. He was breathing hard and had a glaze to his eyes that made him look like he was half asleep; at one point, when the groups of younger racers were diminishing by the minute and their own time was only coming closer, Izaya watched the other boy drop his head into his hands for a moment before running his fingers repeatedly through his hair.

“Are you okay?” Izaya asked carefully. Shizuo flinched again.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He insisted, voice slipping to falter off at the end. “Just fine.”

Izaya sighed, “Just don’t drop the baton and we’ll be right.” He tried to reassure the other, “Everyone here looks like they’ve been training for months and we were only just told a few days ago. I don’t think anyone is expecting us to even place, let alone win.”

“Yeah, I know.” Shizuo murmured back, making his own effort to breathe in deep and out deeper.

It wasn’t far from their turn now, maybe only two groups were left to stand in front of them. Izaya brought his still sore ankle out in front of himself and rotated it in the air, flinching at the first jolt of pain, but quickly schooling his face to neutrality.

“Are you okay?” Shizuo asked from his side, looking pointedly at his slightly extended foot. Izaya brought it back down to the ground and alternated in putting pressure on and off it where he was standing.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Izaya echoed Shizuo’s earlier response. He’d be okay. Izaya thought about the people supporting him, his few friends and what was left of his family cheering in the stands. Izaya thought about his mother, about how much harder he’d try if she were up there too, about how proud she’d be if he won. The last group in front of them disappeared with the bang of a gun and then it was their turn to step forward. They’d already previously discussed that as the faster one, if only slightly so, Izaya would finish the last half of the race after Shizuo started the first. It meant that once the contenders of the previous race had cleared the field, Izaya was ushered out onto it with the rest of the students starting at the halfway mark to walk across the oval and stand in place. Izaya turned back as he was walking to chance a glance at where Shizuo was being positioned at the edge of the start line between four other competitors.

Shizuo’s attention shot up from where he’d been looking at his feet to Izaya, as though the other turning his gaze back had come with a call of his name. Izaya felt like he was supposed to say something but wasn’t quite sure what. “I’ll see you at the finish line.” He finally settled on, calling it across the distance between them only gaining in length with each step he took. He only kept looking long enough to see Shizuo take a breath, steel his features into a little more confidence, and duck his head in a nod that was as good a promise as anything else.

Once they’d reached their starting point, a white line cutting the outer circular portion of the field in half, Izaya settled himself into the middle lane, the one lining up to Shizuo’s own and tried to get his bearings. He dug the balls of his feet into the ground, let his attention travel along the lane behind him, where it stretched out around a bend to where Shizuo was bracing both feet apart and leaning down to touch the ground with his hands, and then to the opening in front of him, the long line of space spanning the distance between himself and the finish line almost another half of the field ahead. It was a short race, Izaya knew it’d be less about endurance and more about sheer speed, something he hoped he had enough of to at least keep up with the determined faces positioning themselves either side of him.

The speakers gave the notice: ten seconds to start, and Izaya should have been getting ready like the people next to him, bending over and bracing himself against the rubber material making up the lanes under foot, but his attention was caught at Shizuo instead, was captured to stare unswervingly at the others legs, one placed at the top of the starting line, the other spread back behind the first with only the ball of his foot pressing into the ground. Izaya could see the space where his shorts were riding up, the muscles of his thighs and the power he knew they held bunched up and ready to explode with the first sound of the starting pistol. Izaya watched where his blonde hair was falling forward to cover the downward angle of his face, where is attention was trained with certainty on the ground before him, where his hands were braced against the start line, one clenched tight around a silver metal baton. Izaya watched everything: the man holding the starting pistol raised his hand into the air, Shizuo’s muscles tensed further, his back foot twisted to gain better traction on the ground below him, the man’s fingers squeezed against the trigger of the gun and it fired with a loud, heart-stopping bang into the clear sky above them.

Shizuo pushed off with the first burst of sound and Izaya couldn’t help but gape. The force of his starting push, travelling down from the muscles in his legs, gave him the power to have his first leap forward put him far in front of everyone else; he was surprised no one stumbled in shock at the unexpected start. Shizuo didn’t hesitate in continuing to power on forward with his head down and his long legs coming in longer strides, but his head start was short lived because the others were gaining on him, their technique putting them almost on par with the power making up Shizuo’s body. Izaya watched shizuo push harder to break free of the others closing the distance between them, his grip on the baton swinging with his arm so white knuckle tight, Izaya was worried he wouldn’t be able to let go of it in time to hand it off.

They were getting closer, more than two thirds of the way now, and Shizuo was evenly matched with the competitors closest to him on either side, all three of them running together in a tight strung line with the other two only slightly lagging behind. The distance was closing even further, maybe less than a quarter to go and—

Fuck!

Izaya quickly twisted around to brace himself at the ground and steady his legs apart in preparation, his heart racing fast at being so close to missing the opportunity completely. The girl at his side glanced at him like he was crazy but Izaya positioned himself quickly, knees bent, muscles tense, one hand flat on the rubber ground, the other stretched out behind him with an open palm; where he trusted Shizuo enough to place the baton that he could keep his head facing forward to look at the space passing the line he was currently settled at.

Izaya could hear footsteps coming closer, swore he could feel the earth shake with Shizuo’s presence gaining in proximity. Izaya was breathing hard through his nose, his legs were flexing where they were braced against the ground, his outstretched hand was beginning to sweat and he was just thinking about drawing it back to wipe along the side of his shorts when warm metal pressed to his palm and Izaya’s fingers instinctively curled around it as immediately as his legs worked to push him forward from his spot braced on the ground and into motion along it instead.

The baton was already slightly slick from Shizuo’s grip — Izaya was surprised to find it hadn’t been crushed from it as well — and the added wet of his own palm left it so slippery, Izaya thought for a gut clenching moment he was going to drop it. But his burst of forward motion let him use gravity to rearrange the metal in his hand and tighten his grasp on it without having to pause to do so.

Izaya ran like he’d never run before, he ran like he always did, like Shizuo was still chasing him rather than slowing to still at his own finish line that had been izaya’s start. Unlike Shizuo, Izaya’s own take off hadn’t been powerful enough to put him in front of any of his competitors. He ran in line with the two students either side of him, who’s predecessors had been the fastest of the five, but the girl to his left, who’d been staring at him earlier was ever so slightly gaining on him, each of her long strides reaching only slightly further than Izaya’s own. Izaya glanced ahead at the finish line coming closer, decreasing in distance with every too quick second, and ducked his head to push himself harder, too stretch his legs further, to push off the ground with more force. His ankle was throbbing now, angry and heated at the abuse he was forcing it to endure, but Izaya paid it about as much mind as he was paying to anyone cheering in the stands or screaming on the sidelines. Even the girl next to him was barely receiving any kind of attention, all his focus was being taken up, every thought was consumed by the need to move faster, push harder.

Izaya’s next stride came only just in front of the girl’s beside him, but the one after that spanned a whole foot of distance that felt like an entire football field. Izaya covered the last ten or so metres to the finish line holding his breath, and let his psyche reach forward to grasp at the space on the other side and metaphorically pull him forward to leave the others behind. The girl was lagging at least a rulers length behind him now, and as Izaya pushed himself to cover the last metre of space in one giant leap and cross the line at once, he let his breath go with it.

The ringing in Izaya’s ears receded enough to make way for sound around the same time he began to slow his legs enough to stop moving. People were screaming and yelling; Izaya could hear Shinra and Kadota hollering at the forefront of the stands. Still panting hard, Izaya let himself look over all the people standing from their seats to shout their support, to cheer for the unexpected underdog he was sure they must look to be, and then he let himself take a shaky step forward on an ankle that almost gave out immediately. He stumbled a bit, only just catching himself shy of falling.

“Good job, kid.” One of the officials waiting at the finish line slapped him on the back once he’d made his way back towards it.

“Thanks.” He murmured dazedly, watching as Shizuo jogged from halfway across the field to where Izaya was standing at the finish line. Izaya smiled as Shizuo got closer, and when he moved to take another shaky step forward that almost gave out just as quick as the last, Shizuo was there in time to catch him with arms around his waist, in a hug so tight Izaya stopped breathing entirely. He brought his hands up around Shizuo’s shoulders in an instinctive search for support, but left them there for a moment even after he’d been saved from collapse, let himself linger in the comfort of another person, however burning and sweaty they both were, before he thought he might be in some danger of suffocating from the heat and Shizuo’s grip squeezing his lungs to stillness. “Can’t breathe.” He wheezed out, tapping the other boy on the back to better demand his attention.

“Shit, sorry.” Shizuo immediately let him go, but when Izaya looked up at the other’s flushed red face, he was still smiling. “We won.” Shizuo wore a grin brighter than that of any Izaya had seen on him before. “We actually won.”

Izaya looked out over the crowd again, at the other competitors making their way across the field to their partners at the finish line, at the girl who’d almost beaten him walking dejectedly off the field, frustrated tears building up at the line of her long lashes; Izaya quirked his lips into a smile. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”

“Come on.” Shizuo spoke from in front of him. “I need water.” Izaya turned to follow the other off the track the officials were now trying to clear in preparation for the next race and into the stands. He made it one step before stumbling again and hissed at the jolt of pain that shot through his foot.

“Are you okay?” Shizuo asked, pausing to steady Izaya with a hand against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” He lied, “It’s not that bad.” Shizuo moved to wrap his hand around the other’s waist and Izaya took the invitation for additional support anyway, moving to drape his arm across the other’s shoulders so he could limp forward through the stands without the immediate danger of falling on his face. Shizuo slowed to a stop when he caught sight of Shinra and Kadota making their way over to them. Shinra pushed through the crowed without care for who he was barging into and spread both his hands wide to enrapture Shizuo and Izaya in a hug big enough to fit the two of them at once.

“Congratulations!” He cheered, too close to Izaya’s ear. “I can’t believe you won!”

“Thanks for believing in us.” Izaya drawled, but Shinra didn’t so much as flinch at the sarcastic displeasure evident in Izaya’s tone.

“Well considering how long you’d been practicing, I thought you’d be lucky just to keep up with the other’s, but I guess you proved everyone wrong! Isn’t that great?” Shinra pulled back from the hug and Kadota, with some sense of personal space stood back to grin at them.
“They’ve probably really been training for it since they met, the amount of time they used to spend chasing each other around.” Kadota smirked and Izaya felt betrayed.

“That’s hardly the same thing.” He scowled.

“Sure it is.” Shinra piped, “Though to be honest, you gave us a bit of a scare at the start. The amount of time you spent watching Shizuo run, we thought you were going to forget you were supposed to be running too and miss the race completely!”

Izaya’s cheeks darkened considerably and he cursed his own body for once again betraying him as well.

“Well, it all worked out in the end.” Kadota interrupted, steering the conversation away in what Izaya hoped was an effort to make up for the last unnecessary comment he’d provided.

“Iza-nii!” Izaya watched Mairu and Kururi weave through people of the crowd in an effort to get to where they were standing, and braced himself at Shizuo’s shoulder as they both made impact with his stomach to wrap him in a hug almost as bruising as Shizuo’s had been. “Iza-nii and Shizu-nii were so fast!” Mairu bubbled, staring up at him.

“Amazing.” Kururi murmured in awe.

“Yeah, you were amazing!” Mairu blurted in immediate agreement, her wide eyed gaze switching between Shizuo and Izaya with unshakeable intensity.

“Is your ankle okay?”

Izaya’s attention rose from the girls staring up at him to where Shirou had appeared at his side without him noticing. “Yeah.” He answered, overtly self conscious of Shizuo’s hand wrapped casually around his waist. “I just pushed it a bit too hard.”

“Well, you were great.” Shirou offered, smiling like he meant it. “I had no idea you were so fast.”

Shirou extended the cold bottle of water he’d been holding out in front of Izaya. “Thanks.” Izaya hesitantly accepted it, retracting his arm from around Shizuo’s shoulders to better uncap the bottle and press it eagerly to his mouth. He gulped at it greedily, until his thirst was sated and he felt less likely to overheat. He glanced to Shizuo at his side only briefly before looking away again and pressing the outside of the cold bottle to Shizuo’s bare arm in an offer he hoped he’d understand without Izaya having to speak it. Shizuo flinched at the abrupt chill to his skin and stared at the bottle for a moment, before carefully taking it from Izaya’s grip and bringing it to his own lips. Izaya was grateful that no one was paying attention to the way Shizuo so casually accepted it to press at his own mouth, even though if they had, it would have been Izaya’s reaction that gave them pause, the way it made his lashes dip and his cheeks heat to flush even further than they already were.

“Daddy, can we go get snow cones?” Mairu blurted, tugging at the material of Shirou’s pants like she was years younger than she was supposed to be. “There’s a truck over there.” She pointed in the direction of said truck, set up away from the stands and surrounded by other children and parents lining up for globes of ice despite it being the middle of winter; even if it was a particularly sunny day for winter.

“Alright.” He relented, letting them drag him along by a grip at either wrist.

"We’re gonna go get something to eat from the canteen” Kadota let them know, “You guys want anything?”

“No thanks.” Izaya spoke in synchronicity with Shizuo beside him. Kadota smirked before turning away with Shinra at his side.

“I’m gonna go say hi to my parents.” Shizuo spoke, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the cluster of people sitting in the stands. He hesitated for a second, “Do you want to come?” He asked uncertainly, like he didn’t know how to extract the hand from around Izaya’s waist long enough to go have a conversation with his family.

“Okay.” Izaya answered, just as unsure of himself. But he didn’t particularly want to be stuck sitting somewhere all alone for who knew how long, so he replaced his arm back around Shizuo’s shoulders and followed his lead through the stands. When they stopped, it was with a call of Shizuo’s name. Shizuo paused in his forward movement and turned to watch what Izaya assumed were one of his parents and now knew was his younger brother both making their way towards them.

“Congratulations, sweetie!” His mother cooed, ruffling his hair, Shizuo brought his free hand up to swat away her hand.

“Good job nii-san.” Kasuka congratulated his brother straight faced.

“Thanks.” Shizuo smiled.

“Your father is off getting a snow cone.” His mother explained, gesturing to the truck somewhere behind her that Shirou and the girls had already escaped to.

Shizuo’s mother pointedly turned to stare at Izaya. “You did a great job too darling.” Izaya watched her hand twitch at her side like she was resisting the urge to reach out and pat his own head.

“Thank you.” Izaya answered politely.

“This is Izaya.” Shizuo finally blurted, after his mother and brother continued to stare at him and the hand Shizuo was unconsciously tightening on his waist for longer than was strictly necessary.

Shizuo’s mother’s smile began to slip in time with her eyes going wide. “Oh!” She blurted, apparently surprised. “I had no idea.”

Izaya frowned, confused, and had to wonder for a moment if he’d already been mentioned at some point in time, if Shizuo hadn’t already inadvertently introduced him to his family with a grumbling complaint of something new Izaya had done to irritate him.

Shizuo’s mother’s shock quickly gave way to a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She spoke honestly.

“You too.” Izaya replied after a moment, his suspicions only furthering with her out of place statement.

“We’ll be back in a moment, I’m going to try and find your father.” She explained to Shizuo, grabbing at one of Kasuka’s wrists to force him into following her away and towards the snow cone truck only increasing in customers. Izaya watched them disappear into the crowd until his attention was drawn back with the sound of a shout.

“Hey!” Izaya twisted his head as someone called out from behind them, and came face to face with one of the officials running the event, smiling wide and holding a large golden trophy in one hand. He extended it towards the two of them. “This is for you guys.” He explained.

“Oh, thanks.” Izaya grasped the trophy with one hand since Shizuo looked too caught up in staring at it like he’d never seen a one before to actually comprehend accepting it. The man left and Izaya looked down at the metal caught in his hand. It was bigger than what he’d expected, though to be fair he’d been expecting nothing; it had a golden figure of a man running at the top and a golden plate glued to the bottom that had Tokyo Schools Sports Carnival, 1st Place Relay engraved into the metal.

It was a little cruel only offering a single trophy to a team of more than one winner, but Izaya didn’t even hesitate in passing the trophy to Shizuo. “Here,” He offered, “You can have it.”

“What?” Shizuo sounded surprised, like Izaya was giving away a million dollar prize. “You don’t want it?”

Izaya shrugged, “It was your head start that gave us the win.”

Shizuo frowned, “You know that’s not true.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismissed, “I don’t need it, the memory is enough.”

Shizuo finally brought his hands out to grip the trophy and Izaya let it go. “Thanks.” He murmured, smiling slightly. Izaya tried to swallow down the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, like his heart was swelling too big to fit inside the cage of his ribs. It didn’t work, so he took to ignoring it as best he could instead, imagined it was the result of excessive physical exertion playing tricks on his body.

The rest of the races only lasted for another half an hour or so, but the sports grounds were crowded even after the fields had been long since cleared. Friends and families sat in groups conversing and eating from some of the stalls that had been set up to profit from the event. During this time, Izaya watched Mairu eat a disconcertingly large amount of snow cones, ice cream and fairy floss, sometimes all at once, before Shirou finally found the sense to say no and cut her off from any further food related funding. And so he wasn’t surprised when she soon started complaining about feeling sick and demanded they return home so she could go to sleep. Izaya had to agree he was tired, but he also felt very comfortable where he was sitting, stretched out on the picnic blanket Shinra had brought and placed directly under the warm glow of the sun. Shirou had been busy following the girl’s around the few food stalls set up and watching them while they played in the children’s park equipment nearby, so Izaya was left to sit with his friends and steal chips from the packet Shinra had left lying open on the blanket.

“Iza-nii, Kururi feels sick too now. We want to go home and go to bed.” She complained.

Izaya tried to wave her away, “Go find a tree to sleep under.” He muttered, he really didn’t want to have to move, wasn’t sure his body would let him even if he tried.

“Nooo.” Mairu whined, “We wanna go hoooome.” Izaya’s brow twitched.

“Okay, in five minutes we can go.” He eventually sighed in surrender.

“Okay,” She huffed, quickly accepting the compromise before he could take it back and leaving to run back to the play equipment.

Shinra exhaled a long sigh, “Sometimes I’m glad I’m an only child.” He revealed wistfully.

“Me too.” Kadota laughed from his spot on the blanket.

“Siblings aren’t that bad.” Shizuo defended, plucking a piece of grass from the ground not being covered by the rug.

“I’m guessing Kasuka doesn’t do annoying things to you?” Shinra suggested and Shizuo paused to think for a moment.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, going back to picking at stray strands of grass, “I’m sure he would do it more if he were still their age.”

“Iza-nii!” Izaya heard his name being called again, this time from the play equipment, like Mairu was too scared to whinge any closer for fear of being yelled at.

Izaya sighed again through his nose. “And with that, I left.” He spoke, pushing up to stand from the blanket. He wobbled a bit, forgetting for a moment about his unstable ankle, but quickly found his balance again.

“Are you gonna be okay walking back?” Shinra asked, eyeing Izaya’s foot sceptically, “You need to take it easy now or it’ll never heal.”

“I’ll be fine.” He assured him, even though shifting to put pressure on it had him gritting his teeth.

“Okay,” He relented even if he still looked unconvinced. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” Izaya paused in moving away, confused before Shinra continued speaking. “At the funeral,” He explained.

“Right.” Izaya spoke quietly, unwilling to admit he’d almost completely forgotten about it. “See you.” He turned away from his friends and began walking over to where Shirou and his sisters were waiting for him so they could walk out of the grounds together. It was still a lengthy walk back to where the car was parked and Izaya could feel every step towards it increase in difficulty and pain at one and the same time. They were just stepping out of the gate bordering the sports grounds when Izaya stumbled and hissed as a particularly intense jolt of pain ran through his ankle and up his leg.

“Are you okay?” Shirou asked and Izaya clenched his fists at his sides before forcing himself to take another step foward.

“Yeah.” He grit out from between teeth clenched tight on discomfort.

“Let me carry you.” Shirou stopped walking and Izaya almost stumbled again at the other’s words.

“No, I’m fine.” He argued, even as his weight wobbled over his next step.

Shirou frowned, “Don’t be stupid, you’ll only make it worse.” He turned his back to Izaya. “Just let me carry you.” He repeated again, firmer this time and Izaya screamed inside just to stop himself from screaming outside, from telling Shirou that he’d rather be in pain. But another shift over his foot had him biting his lip and thinking maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Fine.” Izaya mumbled softly, stepping forward in admittance of his own defeat. Shirou lowered himself down to his knees so Izaya could better climb onto his back, and Izaya couldn’t help but wish Shizuo had insisted on helping him instead. He placed his hands on Shirou’s shoulders and let himself lean against the other’s back, Shirou stood swiftly to his full height and kept his hands under Izaya’s bare thighs to better support his weight.

“Wow, you’re really light.” He commented before taking a step forward.

“No fair, we want a piggy back.” Mairu complained, pouting up at Izaya like she had anything to be jealous of.

“You can have one next time.” Shirou reassured her while they walked. Izaya closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was Shizuo’s shoulders under his grip, Shizuo’s hands on his thighs, before he caught himself on the same thought for the second time that day and forced himself to push it from his mind completely; he couldn’t let himself turn escapism into a habit, especially when it featured Shizuo.

There were a lot less people in the carpark than there were on the grounds but Izaya still felt a little embarrassed, like he was a kid that had hurt himself playing at the park and had to have one of his parents carry him home. But every second free of the pressure on his ankle was leaving him too exhausted to care much anyway. Once they reached the car, Shirou let Izaya slide from of his back by the door so he could make his way around to the opposite side. Izaya slipped into the front seat of the car and relaxed, feeling every motionless second pull his tired body further down into the chair.

By the time they were backing out of the parking space and onto the road leading home, Izaya had already let his head loll to the side and rest against the car window while he slipped into a restless, furrow-browed sleep for the time it would take them to get back home.

Chapter Text

The evening passed by in a tired, hazy blur for Izaya. Shirou had offered to treat them to whatever they wanted for dinner, as prize for doing so well in the race. Izaya had chosen pizza at his younger sisters’ requests, only because he knew he’d barely be eating any of it anyway; he still felt sick, though whether it was still the dregs of yesterday or the anxiety of tomorrow, he wasn’t sure. They’d sat on the couch and watched TV, Izaya only with his eyes half open and his mind completely elsewhere. He’d almost slipped into sleep more than once slumped against the support of the couch, and at one point he’d contemplated letting himself, too afraid that if he moved upstairs to the support of his bed he’d no longer be tired and find chasing sleep to be more exhausting than anything else he’d done that day.

He kept his focus on the action movie they were watching as best he could, let the sound of every loud explosion or gunshot that rung out jolt him back from the brink of unconsciousness. But after the third or so time he’d let his eyes fall closed, even that couldn’t seem to keep him from falling asleep, and Izaya let his head tip to rest against the arm of the couch while his breathing evened out and his mind shut itself off from he world around him.

He was running; he knew as much. His legs were working harder than they ever had before. But his legs, so short and small, felt as though they were getting him nowhere. He could hear the other kids playing outside, laughing and screaming, if he could just run fast enough maybe he could reach them, make it through the door leading outside and find himself under the glow of the midmorning sun.

He could already feel the rays on his skin, taste the fresh air filling his lungs, just a few more steps and he’d be there, he’d be free, he’d be—

And suddenly Izaya was right back where he started, standing still in the middle of their empty classroom, as though he hadn’t just been running his heart out to get away from this exact place. He could still hear his classmates yelling, but it was further away now, made softer by distance.

The door had been left open, and Izaya turned to make his way back out and towards the way he’d been headed only seconds before when something left on the surface of his school desk caught his eye.

It was a drawing.

Someone had left a loose leaf of paper decorated with colour lying over the square of wood; it fluttered at the edges with each soft whir of the fan overhead. He picked it up by one flittering corner and brought it closer to be examined in more detail, avidly aware of the way his stomach twisted as the picture came into further, uncomfortable clarity.

It was grotesquely disturbing, as much as a children’s drawing could be anyway. There were two small girls, maybe around his age, with hair as dark as his too; he felt like he might recognise them if clammy fingers could do more than brush by edges of the thought sitting still at the back of his head. They were smiling in the picture, a small upward curve of the pencil, but everything below that smile suppressed any kind of innocence one might find in children smiling. The picture depicted a monster, some kind of a rabid, wolf-like, beast; dark and angry, pulling out guts and gnawing at limbs. It looked like a scene from one of the gory horror movies he’d seen posters for at the theatre, violent scribbles of red crayon depicting the blood that was sure to follow each gaping hole in the little girls’ torso.

Izaya let the drawing drop from his hands and took a step back away from his desk at the same time. He went to take another but flinched as he found himself pressed against something that prevented him from moving any further. It was the body of another person, a lot taller and older than him, but definitely a person. He froze himself to perfect stillness, thinking maybe if he didn’t move they would leave him be.

Izaya felt the rush of displaced air by the back of his neck like a cold gust of winter air, and knew that any chance of being ignored had gone with it. He closed his eyes tight as a hand wound itself into the dark of his hair, clenching tight around the strands.

He couldn’t hear the children laughing anymore, only the sound of his own too fast breathing, and that of the stranger behind him. He opened his eyes again and immediately wished he’d kept them close. The room was no longer empty, every seat at every desk but his own was taken, filled with the classmates that should’ve still been playing outside. The fist in his hair just clenched tighter and Izaya thought about asking for help, screaming until they knew something was wrong, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. His classmates only smiled at him, beginning to talk with each other like he wasn’t even there, laughing and chatting just like he’d heard them outside.

He tried to speak again but before he could decide what he was going to say, the hand in his hair pushed forward impossibly hard, bending his body in two and ramming his face into the edge of the desk in front of him. He gasped at the impact, his ears rang with it. He could feel where bruises would bloom in spots over his face. His mouth was wet, like his lip had split under the force of the stranger’s arm; he could feel it dribbling a line of red over his mouth and down his chin.

The hand pulled him back up by its grip on his hair and this time, when Izaya cried out, weak and helpless, he could hear the sound of his own voice. The stranger leaned down to breathe against the back of his neck and Izaya shuddered at the feel of it. “I’ve always hated you.” The stranger whispered, lips brushing the skin at his nape with each changing syllable.

“What?” Izaya croaked out from bloody lips, more confused than he’d ever felt in his life. His vision was blurring, children’s faces and garish blue walls twisting and warping in front of him. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d hit his head, or because his eyes were going hot. “I- I don’t understand, I—

And the hand pulled back even further, fisted the back of his hair even tighter, only to push forward again, faster and with more force than before. Izaya could see the edge of his wooden desk rushing towards his face at a startling speed, he closed his eyes and screamed as it came closer, as he—

Izaya startled awake with a gasp. His eyes opened at once, his lungs flexed with the need to bring more air into his body. It took a while for him to make sense of his surroundings, to realise why he hadn’t woken to the pale white of his ceiling or the or soft grey of his bedroom walls. Izaya pushed up from the couch slowly, the hand he’d been using as a makeshift pillow buzzed with pins and needles and the back of his neck ached from the position he’d had it in upon falling asleep.

There was a blanket draped over his body now, one that he hadn’t remembered having when he fell asleep. He pushed it off himself so he could bring his legs down from where they were curled up on the couch and stretch them out in front of himself instead. He was grateful to find that his ankle wasn’t nearly as sore as it had been the day previous, it meant that at the very least he wouldn’t be caught limping around the funeral grounds.

Izaya stepped around the couch and into the kitchen, this time a lot less surprised when Shirou was already sitting there, sipping at a cup of coffee and flipping through a stack of papers placed over the dining room table. “Sleep okay?” He asked, staring at Izaya from over the rim of his mug.

“Yeah.” He lied, “Just kind of sore.”

Shirou hummed, “I was going to carry you up to your room but I thought it might have woken you too easily.” He explained. Izaya held himself back from expressing just how mortified he’d have been if he knew that Shirou had carried him to his room like he was an especially useless toddler. “We’ll be leaving in just over an hour.” He said, glancing briefly to the clock on the wall.

Izaya nodded his head to show he understood without having to actually open his mouth. He began walking away, towards the staircase, to make for the shower and start what was sure to be a tiresome process of getting himself and his sisters ready, when Shirou spoke again.

“Do you have anything you want to say?” He questioned, “At the funeral, I mean.”

Izaya stopped walking for a moment to stare at the polished wood beneath his bare feet instead. “I don’t know yet.” He answered quietly, voice a little dry from going unused for so long. When Shirou made it obvious enough that he had no reply, Izaya continued walking upstairs. Only once he’d locked the bathroom door behind himself did he realise he was still wearing the clothes he ran in yesterday, which only made him take them off the quicker.

Izaya showered quick, scrubbed his body to cleanliness without really thinking about it. Until by the time he was pulling the weight of his dark suit from the back of the wooden closet he could rarely bring himself to open anymore, it felt like he’d spent up until that moment half asleep and in a daze. Izaya buttoned up the front of his black shirt slowly, his right hand still aching if he moved his fingers too quick. It took him a few goes to get the tie right, but when he did he pulled the dark blazer matching the pants already fastened over his hips onto his shoulders.

He looked at himself in the mirror hanging on the inside of the closet for a moment, studying his expression and practicing the mask he’d have to wear for the rest of the day. He wished he had something to cover the marks still purpling his face; he really didn’t want to attend his own mother’s funeral wearing bruises like makeup.

Getting the girls into their clothes was a difficult task, they were more than reluctant to get out of bed or do anything other than stand were Izaya had asked them to and let him manoeuvre their limbs through sleeves like limp dolls. This is a hard day for them too, he had to remind himself when they became particularly stubborn in letting him place little black slip on shoes to match each of their dark dresses onto their feet. He brushed and braided Mairu’s long hair, tamed Kururi’s as best he could, before ushering them downstairs so they could have the chance to eat breakfast before leaving.

When Izaya came back downstairs, Shirou was talking on the phone and wearing a suit that looked all too similar to Izaya’s own, dark, clean cut, albeit probably a lot more expensive. He thought he’d be hard pressed to find anyone who wouldn’t immediately recognise their relation at the event. Izaya spread jam over two pieces of toast as the quickest route to a finished breakfast he could think of, and handed them each to the girls without a plate, warning them not to dirty their clothes before they’d even left. Shirou finished his conversation and hung up the phone, sliding it back into the pocket of his pants.

“Are we ready to leave?” He asked, turning to face the others and faltering as his gaze came to land at Izaya packing away the things he’d used to make the girls breakfast. Izaya paused in opening a cupboard, suddenly self conscious as to what he could be looking at. Shirou’s gaze ran up the length of his suit-clad body and came to rest at the side of his face, where he knew the bruises the other man had left were still vibrant and obvious.

“Yes, we’re ready.” He answered, if only to draw Shirou’s attention away from his physical presence and onto his voice instead.

Shirou looked away immediately, “Okay, let’s go then.” He walked forward and passed Izaya on his way to the front door. Izaya closed the cupboard he was still holding open and followed, making sure the girls were close behind them.

The car trip was even more quiet than usual, the girls were completely silent in the back seat, not a soft whisper from either of them. Izaya had to twist around from his seat in the front at one point just to be sure they were still there. They were, each looking out their own windows, seated on separate sides of the car instead of together in the middle. Izaya looked away, it hurt to see them hurting.

They arrived at the graveyard early, like they were supposed to — Shirou had been adamant on being the first ones there to greet anyone who would later arrive — and Izaya helped his sisters out of the car so they could walk across the grass still wet from morning dew. Izaya thought for a second time how lucky he really was that Shirou was here to organise and take care of the entire thing, Izaya had taken little part in arranging the event and it was honestly a relief. He couldn’t imagine showing up today whilst having it as his responsibly that everything ran smoothly.

The site was beautifully set up, the coffin he’d picked out still hoisted up out of the hole already dug into the ground and covered with white lilies. The flowers were scattered all around the area, marking out the space around it with shades of pure white petals and pale green stems. A photo of his mother had been set up on a stand, one from a year or so ago, long before she’d started wearing the signs of her sickness, and Izaya was glad Shirou had chosen a good one.

People started to show one by one and Izaya left the girls to stand motionlessly by the grave while he greeted each of them, blank faced and emotionless. They’d made it an open funeral, mostly because Izaya had little clue of who his mother had been close to. There were friends from when he was younger, that used to help take care of him or bring their own kids over to attempt interaction with Izaya, but there had to be people she knew at work and in the community that he couldn’t personally invite. It meant that every third or so person Izaya shook hands with, it was for the first time.

It felt good to see a familiar face when Izaya came to spot Yuriko arriving with her many children trailing behind her like a gaggle of geese. She hugged him as soon as she was close enough to and Izaya hugged back loosely. Pulling back from the embrace to stare at him, her brows drew down quickly. She extended a hand out to grasp the edge of his face and move it further to the side, as though she was trying to get a better look at it. She stroked the arch of his cheekbone with her thumb.

“Did he do this?” She asked and Izaya didn’t need to clarification to know who she was talking about. He opened his mouth, refusal ready at the tongue, and then he closed it again. It was so much harder to lie to her; she looked so much like his mother it hurt. Yuriko took his hesitation and following silence as the confession it was. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you with him.” She muttered under her breath, disdain all but dripping from her voice.

He took a deep breath and reached up to place his hand over hers still touching his cheek. “It’s okay,” He tried to reassure her, “It was my fault anyway, I did something stupid.” She opened her mouth to argue but Izaya cut her off before she could. “He’s been really good with the girls, they’re so much happier with him than they were before,” He explained. “And god knows we couldn’t have organised and paid for all of this without him.” He murmured. Defending Shirou hurt almost as much as taking one of his punches but he bit down on the inside of his cheek and carried on, if only for the sake of his sisters. Besides, what good would complaining do now? Nothing had changed, he still couldn’t bare the thought of them being thrown into the foster system when no one else could take them. He’d just have to grit his teeth and play the good son until he turned eighteen and could drag them all out of this mess together.

Yuriko pulled back her hand and Izaya let his own drop to his side. “We’ll talk more later.” She promised, glancing back at the new arrivals making their way over. She held eye contact for a long moment, as if daring Izaya to refuse her statement, and only when he ducked his head in some sort of submission did she move along, over towards the girls still standing in the same spot Izaya had left them.

It wasn’t long before Shinra and the other’s arrived. Izaya turned to greet them and Shinra immediately went for a hug, squeezing the life out of Izaya with his deceptively strong suit-clad arms. It was strange to see all of them dressed formally like he never had before; even Shizuo had decided to wear a dark suit with a just as dark tie, pale white shirt peeking out from underneath. His hair was different too, far from the messy mop of blonde locks he’d gotten so used to seeing, it was slicked back away from his forehead and left his honey hazel eyes on clear view to those around him.

Shinra pulled back from the hug and Izaya was glad Shizuo and Kadota refrained from subjecting him to any more close contact. Another span of time greeting family friends and strangers and the service was about to begin. Izaya sighed relief; there were only so many more hands he could shake and smiles he could fake before he started doing it in his sleep. People surrounded the burial site, lined up in audience, and Izaya went to stand between Shirou and his sisters.

The service began and Izaya kept his head down, eyes glued to the shiny black toes of his dress shoes. He listened to Yuriko’s voice at the head of the grave, where the picture of his mother surrounded by bouquets of flowers and a small podium stood. He’d been grateful when she'd offered to run the service, to write something special for his mother and read it aloud to the crowd. She shifted through the papers she had placed to rest at the podium as she spoke.

Mairu and Kururi were crying, he could hear them sniffling at his side, but he fought the urge to look at them, to acknowledge them in any way else he acknowledge the heat building up at the back of his own eyes. He breathed deep in an effort to quell whatever emotion he could feel stirring inside him at his aunt’s words and his sister’s tears.

After a few more minutes, Yuriko finished speaking and called upon anyone in the crowd who had something to say. She looked to Izaya first and foremost, and in turn, everyone else in did too. “Did you have something you’d like to say, Izaya?”

Izaya’s breath stilled in the space of his lungs, his lips closed tight; he was one syllable away from bursting into tears and the physical pressure of everyone’s eyes on him was only making it worse. He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. However bad it made him look, he wasn’t capable of standing up there and talking about his mother in front of everyone, letting his emotions be on a clear display for the audience around him. And even worse, he couldn’t lie, he couldn’t deceive or fake a mask while faking words because this was his mother’s funeral for god’s sake and he wouldn’t do that to her.

After what felt like an incredibly long span of time, Izaya shook his head, short and sharp, before ducking his gaze away from stranger’s views and placing it back on the grass under his shoes. He was grateful when she decided not to press the matter, simply moving on and letting the rest of the gathered crowd take over. He listened to the unprepared speeches of Kyouko’s childhood friends, people she’d worked with, people who’s lives she’d affected for the better. At one point, shortly after his refusal, Izaya felt the weight of Shirou’s hand come down to land at his shoulder and stay there for a number of minutes, squeezing gently.

It was a relief when the speeches finished and workers got ready to begin lowering the coffin into the ground; the sooner this was over, the sooner he could escape from everyone and go let himself cry quietly unseen. Plenty of people were openly sobbing, he was more than surprised that the girls weren’t one of them; their tears fell silently where they stood. He’d half expected to have to hold them back from running and diving into the open grave after his mother, but they were being surprisingly mature about the entire thing, he’d feel proud if he didn’t just feel sad.

Once the coffin was lowered into the ground, every person had the opportunity to step forward and throw flowers down the hole; Izaya and his sister’s were one of the first. He took one last lingering look down into the grave, at the dark oakwood box he’d picked out to hold his mother’s body, and then he let the handful of lilies he’d been holding fall down its depths to land over the coffin below before tearing his gaze away by force.

Izaya didn’t stay to watch the rest of his family and friends do the same, he immediately left the vicinity and made for a thick patch of trees by the edge of the graveyard; close enough that it didn’t look like he was outright leaving, but secluded enough that he would have some privacy. He found a wide tree, one that must have been there at least threes times longer than he’d been alive, and leaned back against it.

Izaya closed his eyes. His breathing was coming shaky and uneven but he made no effort to fix it. He brought both hands up to cover his face, then moved them further back to make fists of his hair. “Fuck.” He choked out with his next exhale, thinking thought about his mother, about how kind and caring she was, all the good she’d done for the people around her, for him. He thought about refusing to speak a word at the service, what people must be thinking of him, what she must be thinking of him if she could see him now. He thought about Shirou and his sisters and about blood and bruises and fear and hands in his hair, long past memories, broken and abstract, melding with more recent ones. And most of all he thought about how he’d never forgive his mother for leaving them in this situation, for leaving them to be stuck with him. Izaya’s eyes were impossibly hot now, his breathing closer to pants, and overwhelming frustration, the rage of his helplessness made his vision swim and his muscles tense and, twisting around to face the trunk of the tree he’d been slumped against, Izaya brought his arm back and his clenched fist forward to land hard at the rough bark and splintery wood before him.

Izaya grit his teeth at the immediate burst of pain, his own skin giving way before the resistance of the tree. He pulled his hand back slowly and gazed down at the bits of broken and bloody skin dotting his knuckles, smudged with dirt and shards of broken bark. He clenched his fist tighter, let his skin pull taught over the bones of his hand to ache a pain all along his fingers, and drove his fist forward again to punch the centre of the tree once more. It hurt more this time, the already open wounds on his hand making impact with the tree’s unforgiving surface; he almost gasped at the sheer intensity of it, but drew his hand back for another punch instead. He brought it down hard again, and again, and again, holding off the wave of emotion breaking over him with the immediate force of physical pain. Izaya’s hand was burning, pain lanced along the length of his arm with every dull thud of his fist hitting the tree, but he pulled it back again anyway, raised it to drive forward once mo—

Izaya’s motion stopped as suddenly as it started, his bloody and aching fist suspended halfway to the surface of the tree, caught to stillness by the unflinching grip around his wrist. Breathing hard, Izaya turned to face Shizuo, dark faced and rigid, Izaya’s trembling arm in his hand. Shizuo was frowning, his brows drawn low, but his eyes were soft, and sad, and Izaya wanted to punch the idiot for thinking he had the right to look at him like that. He looked away instead, dipped his gaze to the ground below him just so he wouldn’t be forced to meet that stare. If it made him look ashamed, that was probably because he was.

Shizuo’s hold on his wrist went gentle, loosening slightly but not entirely. The blonde brought his other hand up to hold it steady and peer at the damage Izaya had done to it. Izaya chanced a glance himself; it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had been expecting, as it felt like it should be, but it wasn’t pretty either. The tips of his knuckles were red raw and missing enough skin to dribble small drops of blood down the length of a few of his fingers, the rest of his hand was covered in scrapes and splinters. Shizuo tried to wipe the dirt and bits of bark away from the open wounds decorating his hand and Izaya hissed at the contact, skin smarting with the pressure of someone else’s touch.

“Why can’t you just let yourself cry like everyone else? Beating up trees isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

How would you know, he wanted to argue, but was too afraid to do more than part his lips and breathe. That burning was back at his eyes, he realised with a certain sense of mortification. He ducked his head further, let the weight of his hair fall forward to obscure his face and hide the wet clinging to his lashes away from Shizuo’s view.

“Izaya.” Shizuo murmured, finally letting go of the other’s wrist. “Izaya.” He spoke with a little more force, bringing his hand up to land at Izaya’s shoulder. “Come here.” Izaya tried to pull away from that grip at his shoulder, to make a break for it and run halfway across the city, back to a home where he wasn’t safe, but Shizuo’s hold wouldn’t budge, and Izaya lost all chance of escape when Shizuo pulled him in closer to replace the hand at his shoulder with arms around his waist. Izaya quickly moved his hands to Shizuo’s shoulders just to avoid getting blood on the other’s suit.

The way Shizuo hugged, arms wound low around his back, made him feel like a teenage girl, but it also made him feel safe. Bracketed between a body that held so much strength, so much potential for destruction, Izaya felt as though he didn’t have to worry about watching his own back because surely whatever came their away Shizuo would be able to fight it without so much as batting an eyelash.

Izaya gave in to Shizuo’s offered comfort quicker than before, giving up to let his arms circle around the blonde’s neck and drop his forehead to the dark blazer covering Shizuo’s shoulder. His injured hand was shaking where it sat resting at the top of the other’s spine and Izaya curled it into a tight fist one more time just to feel the burn of it, and then he let the tension winding the muscles in his arm tight and the sob he’d been holding in the back of his throat go at once. Shizuo’s arms around him squeezed tighter as Izaya cried into his shoulder. He felt one hand come up to rest against the back of his head, fingers slowly running though his hair.

“It’s okay.” Shizuo tried to comfort him and Izaya wished he’d just stay quiet instead. “I’m sure she’d know what you wanted to say without having to say it in front of everyone.” Izaya huffed was supposed to be a laugh and may as well have been another sob into Shizuo’s shoulder. Sometimes his observancy put Izaya’s to shame and he thought there would always be something endlessly disturbing about that.

After a while — once Izaya’s breathing had evened out a bit more — Shizuo unthread his fingers from Izaya’s hair and made to pull back from the embrace. Izaya was reluctant to let go, he really didn’t want Shizuo to see his face right now. He kept his head low as he pulled himself away, immediately bringing his hands up to scrub at his eyes and face. Shizuo pulled a small packet of tissues from his pocket and extended it over the space between them. “Thanks.” Izaya mumbled, pulling one from the packet before handing it back. He used the tissue to wipe his nose and rub whatever wet still dampened his lashes away. He hoped he hadn’t done too much damage to the shoulder of Shizuo’s blazer; it looked a little damp from salty tears but that was about it.

“Come on,” Shizuo spoke softly, “Everyone’s walking over to the hall now.” Izaya stuffed the dirtied tissue into his pocket and stepped forward to follow Shizuo out from behind the thicket he’d been hiding in. The grave site was relatively vacant now, everyone on their way to where the wake was being held. Only Kadota and Shinra stood there as though still waiting for something and Izaya tried not to resent the rest of his family for so easily leaving him behind. Shinra smiled and waved as they approached and Izaya swore to himself that he’d start taking better care of his friends, that he’d make more of an effort to be a friend in return.

“What happened to your hand?” Shinra asked, concern dropping his lips into a frown. Izaya glanced down at it hanging limp by his side, but Shinra continued on before he was forced to come up with something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a freak. “You’re lucky I brought my mini first-aid kit.” He chirped excitedly, pulling a palm sized container from his pocket that held, among other things, a small bandage. He really is an over exuberant, two-legged vending machine for medical supplies, Izaya thought to himself. “We can wash it off and bandage it once we get to the hall.” Shinra spoke, stuffing the box back into his pocket.

The community hall was already filled with people by the time they arrived, eating from the tables caterers had set out and drinking from the bar built into the building. No sooner had they stepped inside, Shinra began dragging Izaya in the direction of the bathroom. He rinsed the dirt and dried blood from his hand under the tap and let Shinra pluck what splinters and bits of bark he could with the overlarge plastic tweezers that had come with the kit. Shinra wrapped the bandage over his knuckles and secured it down by his wrist. “Thanks.” Izaya sighed, feeling exhausted; he was much too ready to forgo the celebratory part of today and make his way home early instead.

Once he’d made it back out into the main part of the building, Izaya wasn’t surprised to find that some of his uncles were already on their way to being drunk. He frowned distastefully at them, but left his friends to go stand in front of the bar anyway. The bartender didn’t look twice at him, let alone ask for any sort if identification, he just turned away to make the drink Izaya had asked for and placed it on the counter in front of him. Izaya retrieved the tall glass of bourbon and coke, complete with a straw, and made his way over to an area of empty chairs. He dropped into one hard enough that a bit of his drink splashed over the side of the glass and onto his fingers holding it. Izaya held the straw out of the way so he could bring the rim of the glass to his lip and take three large gulps from the glass itself. He shuddered at the taste, it wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he didn’t exactly care. He could see Shinra snacking on food from one of the tables while talking to Kadota, he wasn’t sure where Shizuo had gone but told himself it wasn’t important right now anyway.

Izaya sucked a mouthful of liquid through the straw protruding from his drink and let his gaze wonder over all the people talking and laughing as though they hadn’t just been on the verge of tears less than an hour ago. He could hear Shirou speaking to a few people from the funeral Izaya didn’t recognise, his sister’s were sitting with some of their cousins, looking a little bored and sad. Someone laughed particularly loud and Izaya flinched, he needed some fresh air. Standing from the plastic chair he’d been settled in, Izaya made his way towards the back door of the building with his drink in hand. He pushed on the door and it opened to concrete stairs leading down to an empty carpark, and a smoking Shizuo sat atop one of those first few steps.

Izaya considered turning back to escape through the front door of the building instead but Shizuo was already turning towards the sound of his entry, cigarette caught between two of his fingers. Izaya stared down at him for a moment, he’d seen Shizuo indulge in the habit from a distance, sometimes after school, but he’d never interrupted, always waited until after he’d put out the smouldering butt against concrete or dirt before he’d made his way over with a taunt and his knife at the ready. Shizuo looked away, facing back out towards the empty carpark, but not before moving the pack of cigarettes and lighter sat next to him down by his feet instead. The action an obvious offer for his company that Izaya was wary to take. He did it anyway, walked forward to sit at the step and take the pack’s place beside Shizuo. He stretched his legs out in front of him, let them lay along the steps cascading down towards the carpark, and took another sip of his drink through his straw.

“What’s that?” Shizuo asked, gesturing to the half empty glass in his hand. Izaya tipped the glass closer to Shizuo in an offer just as obvious as Shizuo’s had been. Shizuo only hesitated for a moment before pulling the cigarette free from between his lips to lean down and grasp the straw between them instead. Shizuo pulled back after the first sip and grimaced violently. “Ugh,” He complained, “What the fuck is that?”

Izaya smirked at the reaction. “Bourbon and coke.” He admitted, taking a another sip through the straw before making a point of tipping the glass to his lips so he could finish the rest of the drink in another few larger than normal gulps. He could see Shizuo watching his throat work over the swallows of liquid from the corner of his gaze and when he pulled it back from his lips empty, could see him roll his eyes at the way Izaya placed his glass onto the concrete step with a satisfied sigh.

Shizuo went back to taking long drags of the cigarette between his lips and Izaya watched as each inhale made the orange ember lighting the end of it glow brighter than it had before. He thought Shizuo made smoking look graceful, like some kind of an art that Izaya couldn’t help but stare at. Shizuo caught Izaya’s gaze and pulled the cigarette from his lips so he could offer it to him instead. Izaya looked at it for a moment, studied the length and width of it, tried to find the print of Shizuo’s mouth that was sure to be there if he could only look hard enough, and reached out to accept it. He grasped it between his fingers, careful to avoid the smouldering end, and lifted it to his mouth before he could think about it any harder. He drew in a breath of smoke, let it fill his lungs and—

Izaya coughed, loud and hard, he let the smoke tumble from his lips in convulsive and inelegant bursts of breath while Shizuo chuckled beside him. “It’s okay, that happens to everyone on their first time.” He smiled, sounding far to amused at Izaya’s expense. Once he’d gotten his involuntary coughing under control, Izaya glared at Shizuo and brought the cigarette back to his lips a second time. He inhaled once more, not quite as hard this time, and blew the smoke back out. It burnt and tickled the back of his throat but he held back the urge to cough, let the smoke fall from his mouth and curl into the air without forcing it quite as much as he had before. It made him feel a little dizzy.

Shizuo was still smiling at him when Izaya handed the cigarette back, an unbidden, amused kind of a smirk; one better suited to Izaya’s own arsenal of expressions than the blonde’s. They were both silent while Shizuo smoked through the rest of his cigarette, intermittently handing it off to Izaya beside him who was able to draw deeper, more even breaths each time. It still made him feel light headed, but in a pleasant kind of way. He came to the conclusion that he didn’t mind the taste, but thought it smelt a lot sweeter coming from Shizuo second hand.

Like hell he was going to say that.

Chapter Text

“I’ve got great news!”

Shizuo let his locker slam shut in an effort to drown out the sound of Shinra’s chirping voice.

“Has Celty finally submitted to the deluded fantasies of romance you’ve been harbouring for years?” Izaya asked from where he was leaning back against the front of his own already closed locker door. If Shinra was outright ignoring the mocking lilt to Izaya’s voice, or just oblivious to it, Shizuo couldn’t tell.

“No, although that would be a dream come true.” He answered, eyes glassing over with that lovestruck look that always came with the inevitable thought of Celty. “This is about the festival. There’s been extreme storm predictions for this weekend. They say it’s going to be one of the biggest typhoons we’ve ever had!”

“So?” Shizuo asked, rearranging some of the books in his bag. He’d already heard, it’d been all over the news the last couple of days, but Shizuo failed to see how that faired good news for Shinra. Hadn’t he been the only one out of the four of them actually excited for it? He had to know they weren’t going to run the festival in the middle of a storm.

“They’re moving it to this Wednesday instead!”

Shizuo and Izaya gave a simultaneous, collective groan.

“What? Why are you groaning? This is good news, now we get to do it sooner!” The brunette reassured them.

“Wednesday is only the day after tomorrow, that’s not enough time for me to mentally prepare myself.” Shizuo tried to object.

Izaya snickered from his lean at the locker. “I bet Shizu-chan has to mentally prepare himself to get out of bed in the morning.” He drawled, and Shizuo shifted his gaze to glare at the other boy. With one hand wrapped in a bandage and the the other still decorated with bruises to match his cheek, Shizuo thought Izaya looked like a clumsy boxer.

“Shut up.” Shizuo scowled, wasn’t that normal for everyone? “Don’t tell me you’re happy about this either.”

Izaya shrugged, “It’ll be worth it to see everyone making fun of Shizu-chan.”

Bastard, Shizuo thought. At least it’s a day off school, not that that’s much consolation.

“I already told Kadota on the way to school,” Shinra explained, “He said we should make the sign for the cafe this afternoon.”

Shizuo fought the urge to groan again, turning away from the others instead to head towards their biology classroom; the bell had already gone, if they lingered much longer they were going to be late. “Whatever.” He answered as he walked, not waiting for the others to follow him.

Students were still filing into their seats as Shizuo stepped into the room, he immediately made for the only empty lab bench and took a seat at one of three stools, dropping his bag to the ground next to him and dropping his books onto the table in front of him. The teacher stood with her back to the class while she wrote something up on the board at the front of the room.

When Shinra and Izaya finally stepped through the open door of the classroom, Shizuo had already opened his textbook and notebook with his black ink pen at the ready. Shinra took the lead into the classroom and headed towards the bench Shizuo had chosen to seat himself at. Shizuo expected the brunette to take the middle stool of the bench, the one next to him, but Shinra dropped onto the seat at the far right of the bench, leaving the middle one free between them. Shizuo refused to acknowledge the floaty feeling filling his chest as the relief it couldn’t possibly be.

Izaya slipped onto the stool next to him with a lot more ease than Shizuo thought he would have managed considering its position nestled tight between himself and Shinra. Shizuo watched Izaya pull his own books from his bag to place atop the table before carelessly throwing his school satchel under the bench. The wasn’t a lot of space on the bench; when Izaya opened his books, the edges of some of the pages overlapped Shizuo’s own. When Shizuo lifted the right half of his notebook to let it fall back over Izaya’s textbook, obscuring a good portion of the writing there, Izaya didn’t say anything.

Five minutes into the class, and Shizuo was already drifting away from the lecture their teacher was providing. He’d swore he’d try harder to pay attention for once, but he quickly found himself lowering his head to stare at his open notebook instead of the board in front of them, and scribbling with his pen on a corner of the page instead of taking notes. He began with just drawing lines, random strokes of his pen, but quickly found himself sketching out a skyline with mountains rising over a setting a sun. It was messy and probably looked like garbage but Shizuo lost himself in it anyway, let the sound of the teacher’s boring voice be drowned out by the attention he was focusing on the paper in front of him. When Izaya shifted closer across his seat to lean hard Shizuo’s side and rest his head on the edge of Shizuo’s shoulder, he flinched so hard his hand jerked to draw a thick line of ink across the page and right through the middle of his drawing.

“Fuck’s sake.” He muttered under his breath, fighting the instinctive desire to tense his muscles and stiffen his shoulders where Izaya was leaning against them, and force himself to relax instead. Izaya chuckled softly.

“Shizu-chan’s good at drawing.” He whispered, so as to go unheard by the teacher still talking at the front of the room. Izaya reached out to press the tip of his own pen to the paper in Shizuo’s book — just below where Shizuo had been drawing — and began to sketch something out himself. He really should have pushed Izaya’s hand away from the page, told him to use his own book if he wanted to doodle, but Shizuo sat unmoving instead and watched Izaya draw a crude stick figure man dressed in a maid’s outfit. Izaya finished the drawing by labelling it ‘Shizu-chan’ . Shizuo immediately reached out to scribble over the drawing and the name with his own pen at once, following up by writing ‘you suck’ onto the paper below it.

Izaya huffed another laugh against his shoulder, and shifted over the stool he was barely even sitting on anymore too get closer to Shizuo’s side and better reach his open notebook. The outside of Izaya’s thigh pressed flush to Shizuo’s; skin warm with contact from knee to hip, even through the fabric of his school pants. Shizuo expended a great deal of focus in trying not to let his breath get caught in his throat.

Shizuo was grateful Izaya was too busy reaching back out to write something in his book to notice the way Shizuo’s heart kicked into double-time at the innocent contact. He did his best to relax in his seat, and leant forward to see what message Izaya had left.

‘What if someone takes photos of you in your costume and posts them online?’

Shizuo frowned, he really didn’t want to knowingly get caught in Izaya’s bait and trap, but fuck, what if they did? Would he ever be able to get a job? Make any friends? Would his family disown him.

Shit.

He was definitely spiralling.

‘I’ll kill ‘em’ He scribbled onto the paper, just below Izaya’s last message.

Izaya put his pen back to the paper, ‘Even if it’s me?’

‘Especially if it’s you.’

Shizuo could see Izaya’s smile from the corner of his eye, watched it spread slow over his face like Shizuo had just made a confession he really wasn’t planning to. Izaya leaned harder at Shizuo’s shoulder as he began drawing again, the same maid costume clad stick figure as before but this time surrounded by text as though it was on the front of a magazine. He titled it ‘Maid Boy is Ostracised from Society and Abandoned by his Family’.

Shizuo let him draw without reaching back out to scribble over the page and bring the papers contents into in indiscernible obscurity.

He was going to have to burn the entire book now anyway.

…………………………………………………………………………

When the bell signalling the end of the last class for the day rang, Izaya’s throat threatened a sigh of relief. His hand was hurting from writing notes all day; being ambidextrous didn’t count for much when he had injuries on either hand to choose from. At least the hand only bruised by days old impact ached a lot less than the one that still bled from the knuckles every time he clenched it into a fist.

Not to mention, classes without Shizuo had become tediously boring.

Izaya shoved the textbook he didn’t read into his school bag and stood to leave the classroom and make for the one next door instead.

Shizuo was still hunched over his desk when Izaya slipped through the open door to the other’s classroom. Most students were in the process of packing and leaving, or still finishing off the last of their work like Shizuo happened to be doing. Izaya sauntered over to the other’s desk, cocking his right hip out to lean against the edge of the wood and smile down at Shizuo before him. “Is Shizu-chan’s brain too slow for even the beginners math class?” He asked, flicking the edge of the worksheet Shizuo had yet to finish filling out.

“Shut up.” Shizuo growled back, glaring harder at the paper before him, without lifting his gaze to glare at Izaya instead.

“You can head home now Heiwajima, make sure you finish the rest of that later.” Izaya twisted to look back at the teacher, the same time Shizuo deemed the voice worthy of looking up from his desk. The teacher stood halfway between his own desk and the door, paused on his path to leave so he could speak to Shizuo instead.

“Yeah, thanks.” Shizuo spoke from his desk; Izaya didn’t turn to see the other’s lips move over the words, he kept his twisted position where he could stare at the teacher a little longer. When the man finally lifted his gaze from where it’d been locked onto the blonde, Izaya caught it with his own. The other man’s eyes widened slightly at the attention and his cheeks darkened in time with Izaya’s smile spreading wider.

How interesting, he thought to himself. He really had only been joking the last time he’d teased Shizuo about it, but it seemed maybe he was more observant than he’d given himself credit for.

The teacher ducked his head down out of Izaya’s stare and left the room in a few quick strides. Izaya turned back to look at Shizuo closing his books and packing his things instead.

“I still think your teacher definitely has the hots for you Shizu-chan.” Izaya drawled from his casual lean at the desk; if his muscles were more tense than usual, bracing to dodge some kind of an impact, Shizuo probably couldn’t tell.

Shizuo faltered in shifting around the things in his bag to fit his too big textbook, Izaya watched his shoulders hunch up around his ears and his chin dip down further so his hair covered his face, and frowned at the explosion that never came. “Shut up.” Was all the other boy said, and even that had hardly any force to it, if anything it sounded shaky and unsure, it sounded embarrassed.

You’ve already noticed, haven’t you Shizu-chan?

Izaya let his slow spreading smirk go unseen by Shizuo still bowed over his bag, resuming the task of packing his things. “Uwah, Shizu-chan’s going red!” He teased. “Has he tried to make a move yet? Is Shizu-chan interested in reciprocating his feelings?”

Shizuo looked up to glare at Izaya from under his hair, his mouth a tense line. “That’s disgusting.”

And Izaya hadn’t been expecting anything else, but his smile still took on a manic edge, his breathing still picked up in his chest, his stomach still fell heavy, like he’d swallowed rocks. “Why?” He asked, only letting his grin spread the wider. “Because he’s your teacher? Because he’s older than you?” Izaya fought the urge to swallow before speaking. “Because he’s a guy?”

Izaya didn’t know why he had a habit of asking questions he didn’t want answers to. It was just as well that when Shizuo tried to deflect the question with another one, Izaya let him.

“Would you be interested?” Shizuo asked and Izaya shrugged.

“He’s not bad looking.” He wasn’t. He’d had to have been in his early twenties and fresh out of university. He looked fit and was always well dressed. Izaya supposed he was handsome in a very typical way, the kind that drew teenage girls into fantasies. That fact that he definitely wasn’t Izaya’s type, Shizuo didn’t have to know.

Shizuo grimaced like he was in pain, before looking back down to pull his school bag onto his shoulder and stand from his desk. In the brief lack of an audience, Izaya let himself linger in the too-tight feeling in his chest, like someone was wrapping a vice around his heart and pulling it down into his tummy. When Shizuo glanced back at him, still frowning, Izaya had already plastered an easy smile back onto his face.

Chapter Text

Shizuo decided it was too cold to be swimming before he’d even gotten out of bed this morning. The wind was icy and it whipped through his hair, tangling it to knots at the back of his head.

Everyone else looked to be doing no better. Their entire P.E class stood shivering by the edge of the school grounds while they waited for the bus the school had hired to arrive. Shinra had taken to wearing his school bucket hat — despite it being utterly inappropriate for the gloomy weather — in an effort to keep at least one part of his body warm, Izaya had both arms wrapped tight around his middle, and Kadota kept sniffling beside him; Shizuo was going to have to tell him to get a tissue soon, just so he wouldn’t have to hear it with every breath the other boy took.

“Can someone tell me again why we’re being forced to swim in the middle of winter?” Izaya demanded, pulling his black jacket tighter around his body.

“It’s an indoor pool so it’ll probably be heated.” Shinra spoke from where he was standing, trying to sound chipper through the teeth chattering in his head. “I’m sure it will be.” He said again, Shizuo wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“Ugh, that’s even worse,” Izaya complained. “Do you know how much bacteria is in those things? We will literally be swimming where children pee.” He drawled, disgust evident in every unhappy line of his face.

“Just don’t open your mouth underwater and you’ll be right.” Kadota told him through another sniffle. Izaya grimaced dramatically at the idea.

Every gust of a breeze that blew their way had Shizuo more and more tempted to bring out the thick hoodie he’d stuffed into his bag this morning and slip it on over his school shirt and blazer. He forced himself to wait for a time when he was less likely to be chastised by his teachers for violating the uniform code.

The entire class chorused a groan of relief at the sight of the bus coming around one corner of the school to pull up by the verge. The doors folded open with a hiss of air, and their teacher ushered them onto the vehicle. The bus wasn’t heated, but just being out of the wind made it a hell of a lot warmer than outside. Shizuo took a seat by the middle of the bus, the back already being filled too quickly for him to see an opportunity for successfully finding a spot for himself. Kadota slipped in to sit beside him on the remaining space of the chair, while Izaya and Shinra took the seat directly in front of them. Shizuo frowned; he just didn’t want to have to listen to Kadota sniffling right next to him for the entire ride, that was all.

Once they began to move, Shizuo twisted to lean with his elbow against the bus window and his chin in his hand. His eyes lingered at the back of his Izaya’s head for a while, the dark of his hair leading down to his neck, before he forced himself to look away and watch the scenery passing by outside the window instead.

Shizuo must have dozed, because by the time he was being elbowed awake by Kadota beside him, the bus was already pulling into a park at the establishment their school had hired out for the day. People unenthusiastically rose from their seats and filed out of the bus. Shizuo went to step out of his seat and into the bus aisle without looking, and as a result, almost ran into the young girl who had been walking past his spot at the same time. He stumbled back to let her pass, mumbling an apology under his breath.

“It’s okay.” She answered back, and Shizuo looked up to meet the eyes of the blonde girl that had brought him his bag last week, when he’d taken Izaya to the infirmary and stayed past the end of his class. She smiled at him as she went, and Shizuo let his gaze trail after her, trying to remember if they’d been introduced before, if he was supposed to know her name. He hoped not, because if that was the case, he’d definitely forgotten it.

Two more of his classmates passed by his seat before he found the opportunity to step out and leave the bus himself. He followed their teacher’s directions to make his way inside the building and wait just inside the door. It was comfortably warm inside, enough so that Shizuo didn’t think he’d have much of a problem stripping down to his swimmers and stepping in the water if it wasn’t for what Izaya had said about kids peeing in the pool. He really hoped that wasn’t true.

“Everyone can go get changed in the change rooms now.” The teacher called over the crowd of their class that had congregated together just inside the door. “Once you’ve done that, wait by the pool. There is a door that leads to it on the other side of the change rooms.” He finished speaking, but everyone seemed resolute to stand still where they were. Only after a “Go. Shoo.” from the teacher did everyone finally break into their respective genders and make for the change rooms.

Shizuo shoved his school bag into one of the little open ended cubbies lining the wall, and began to strip his jacket and shirt from his body. He’d made sure to wear his board shorts to school under the cover of his pants, it looked a little strange but saved him from having to get naked in front of half his class to put them on. When Shizuo finished stuffing pants, shoes and socks into the too-small cubby and took the opportunity to glance around, he saw that plenty of other people had the same idea.

Shizuo pretended to fiddle with something in his bag so he could watch Izaya out of the corner of his eye. He’d already stripped down to board shorts too, dark maroon ones that hung low on his hips and rode up short on his thighs. Izaya always looked so much more skinny with his shirt off; Shizuo could clearly see the other’s hip bones jut out in sharp relief, much like the ones making up his collar. When Izaya lifted his arm to put something in the overhead cubby he’d chosen, Shizuo watched the last few of his ribs press close to the surface of his skin; if he looked very closely, he could see the pale pink lines on his stomach that had been cuts before, and the last of what must have been some fast fading bruising around his ribs and stomach.

Izaya turned his back to Shizuo and, Shinra — only half dressed and still with that stupid hat on his head — came to stand behind him and pull at the bandage covering Izaya’s back. Shizuo winced, the skin around the stitches was angry and red and he had to wonder if Izaya should be swimming at all with his surplus of open wounded injuries. But before Shizuo could voice protest that he was sure would go unheard anyway, Shinra pressed another plastic dressing onto Izaya’s back that looked like it was waterproof. When Izaya un-bandaged his hand, Shinra pressed another one along the length of the other boy’s knuckles.

Shizuo didn’t wait for Shinra and Kadota to finish changing too, he left the room through the door he hadn’t come through and stepped out into the pool area. It was bigger than he’d have thought, most of the area had been obscured from the other side of the change rooms but Shizuo could see now just how much. There was a lap pool stretching long across the ground, water pale blue and divided into lanes. There was another pool too, bigger and without lanes; it had a water slide leading down to it that Shizuo was almost positive they wouldn’t be allowed to use.

He waited as more students exited the change rooms to stand where he was as well. Another handful of minutes and the teacher finally emerged from the room to huddle them together by the edge of the pool. “Listen up everyone.” He called, clad in vivid yellow shorts with palm trees printed across them. “You will all have the chance to warm up and play around in the water for a bit, then we will be doing some mock races. The people who aren't confident swimmers don’t have to participate in the races.” Shizuo heard some of his classmates sigh relief. “Today is supposed to be a fun outing!” He tried to assure them all. “So as long as you are in the water and abiding by the pool’s rules, I don’t really care what you do.” Everyone’s mood seemed to pick up a little at the promise of being left to play in the water without the pressure of actually swimming in front of people. “But no, that doesn’t mean you get to use the waterslide.” He quickly amended, “That would have cost extra to rent out.” Shizuo heard him mutter the last part under his breath, like he was just as disappointed as the rest of them about it.

Everyone slowly began to migrate towards the shallow end of the big, lane-free pool; some people using the steps and rail to lower themselves into the water, and others jumping straight in. As soon as Shizuo reached the edge of the pool, he used both hands gripping the side to slip himself over the lip and into the water without bothering to check the temperature first. When he let himself drop to stand, feet flat on the bottom of the pool, the water sloshed up to his chest. It wasn’t really warm, but definitely not as cold as he’d been expecting.

The other three were showing a little more hesitance; Shizuo watched Shinra try to balance himself on one leg at the slippery edge of the pool while using the other to dip down and skim the surface of the water with the ends of his toes. Shizuo probably should have warned the other when Izaya’s eyes caught the precarious action, when he silently shifted himself forward and closer to Shinra’s turned back. But all he had the time and forethought to do was take a few steps back in the water so when Izaya grabbed hard at both of Shinra’s shoulders and pushed, he didn’t come toppling down onto Shizuo himself. Shinra’s already delicate balance wavered, he twisted his torso and flailed his arms as though reaching out for something to grasp mid-air, and when his hands closed on nothing at all, he hit the water where Shizuo had been standing with an undignified yelp and a splash about as graceful as a hippo.

Izaya was already laughing before Shinra had even yet to break the surface of the water, but he was doubled over with it now. When he righted himself with just a self-satisfied smirk and turned to face Kadota beside him, Shizuo watched Kadota’s eyes go wide on fear like he’d never before seen on the other boy. He clambered forward to drop himself into the water, almost slipping at the edge of the pool in the process.

“You’re evil, Izaya!” Shinra coughed, trying to expedite the water he must have swallowed on his fall and push the hair covering his face back out of his eyes. Shizuo wondered how much the other boy could see anyway, without the glasses he wore so often they'd become another feature of his face. Izaya grinned like he’d just been complimented, making to turn away from each of them and walk back and away from the edge of the pool. “Hey! You get back here.” Shinra shrilled at his retreating body, and Shizuo was just thinking about exiting the water to go after the other himself, to haul him up by his skinny shoulders and throw him across the pool without giving him the time to hiss protest at the action, when Izaya stopped to pivot himself around a few metres away from the edge of the water. Shizuo’s eyes widened the same time Izaya’s grin spread to encompass most of his face.

Izaya took one step forward, then another, before breaking into a full-speed sprint for the last few metres of remaining distance between himself and the edge of the pool. Shizuo had no time to move like he had before, had no thought to spare for anything but watching as Izaya’s final footfall caught at the lip of the pool, as he propelled himself into the air in a leap so great it let him fly far over Shinra’s upturned head and further still, until when gravity finally started to pull him downwards and back towards the earth, it was right over Shizuo’s own head; the other boy’s aim just as accurate as his sharp edged insults had ever been.

Shizuo stumbled a few steps back in the water, but it only brought him further under Izaya’s descending body. All he had left was instinct, and instinct brought his hands up to grasp purchase and Izaya’s sides and drop back into the water in an effort to soften the blow of the other’s body against his. Izaya’s hands caught at Shizuo’s shoulders, his knee just over the blonde’s hip, and when he hit the water, it was with Shizuo’s body as a barrier.

Shizuo made sure to keep his mouth closed as Izaya’s weight pushed him deeper into the water. After a moment of sinking, Izaya used his hands at Shizuo’s shoulders to push away from the other’s body and rise back up to the surface. Shizuo lingered where he was at the bottom of the pool for a little longer, watching the way the water rippled as Izaya moved through it, before pushing up to stand at the blue pool floor and bring his head and shoulders up out of the water.

Shizuo opened his mouth to breathe in a new lungful of oxygen and slicked back the hair that had plastered itself to the front of his face. The chlorine stung his eyes but he did his best to rub the wet from them and bring his blurry vision into focus. Izaya was smiling, dark hair pushed back over his head and away from his face, and Shizuo moved his arm through the water in a long sweep of motion before he’d even thought the action through. The force of his movement sent a high wave of water in Izaya’s direction; it splashed across the other’s turned face and made him splutter. “You’re an idiot,” Shizuo announced. “You could’ve broken my fuckin’ neck.”

Izaya smiled through the wet running down his face. “You would have bounced back eventually.” He teased.

It was hard to frown when Izaya’s smile caught the edge of Shizuo’s lips to tension and forced them up at the sides, but Shizuo tried his best anyway.

They spent a few more minutes wading around in the water, before exiting to follow their teacher and classmates congregating by the land-divided pool. There were only a few handfuls of people that had decided to participate in the races, the rest sitting by to watch their friends swim, or hanging back to swim in the pool they’d just left.

“You really shouldn’t be racing.” Shizuo listened to Shinra lecture Izaya. “There’s a big chance your stitches will split.”

Izaya waved the other off, like Shinra was mothering him and not offering well educated information in concern for his health. “I’ll just do one and go easy. Don’t be such a worry wart.” Shinra rolled his eyes at Izaya’s turned back, and Shizuo fought the urge to do the same. Wasn’t he the one that hadn’t wanted to swim in the first place?

“Alright!” The teacher piped up from the head of the group. “We’ll start with some freestyle races and do four at a time. So everyone line up behind one of the first four lanes.”

Shizuo went to stand behind Izaya in the second lane, Shinra at his back, and Kadota first in the lane beside them. When the first row of students stepped up to the cement block marking the start of each lane, it consisted of Izaya, Kadota and two other boys from their class that Shizuo couldn’t remember the names of.

“On your marks.” The teacher called from the side of the pool, and Izaya bent down to touch the edge of the cement with the tips of his fingers, leaving his ass raised high in the air; Shizuo forced himself to take sudden interest in the puddle of water pooling by one of his feet. “Get set. Go!”

Shizuo looked up just in time to see the four of them spring off the support of the cement block and dive into the water down below, each rising to the surface a few metres from where they’d started. Shizuo winced at the arc of Izaya’s arms moving over his head and through the water, no less elegant for how painful Shizuo thought it must be. He knew the flex of those muscles from swimming himself, could remember the way each upswing of his arm pulled the muscles at his back taught and strained; Shizuo was surprised Izaya was fairing as well as he was, moving past the two nameless faces of his class and keeping in line with Kadota beside him. Once they’d reached the other side of the pool, Shizuo watched each of them duck and twist under the water to push off the wall and begin swimming back the way they’d come.

When they — one by one and slightly out of time with each other — broke from the water at the end of the lane, the teacher called it a tie between Izaya and Kadota, but Shizuo was close enough to see Izaya’s hand press flat to the wall moments before Kadota’s own.

Izaya’s fingers came up to grasp at the edge of the pool and Shizuo stepped forward to lean over the cement and reach down to offer his hand. Izaya released his grip on the concrete with one hand and stretched up to replace it around Shizuo’s wrist instead, Shizuo closed his fingers on slick skin and pulled the other effortlessly out of the water.

“Good job, Izaya.” Shinra praised from behind him. “Did that hurt?”

Izaya shrugged, “Not really.” But Shizuo could see his shoulders shaking slightly, could see “like you wouldn’t believe” written clearly in the tension at his forehead. “I’m going to go sit down.” He said instead, moving away to sit around the side of the pool, where other people were already watching the races.

“Shizuo.” Shinra prodded him in the back of the shoulder, trying to get his attention.

“What?” He asked, tearing his gaze away from Izaya taking a seat at the edge of the pool and dropping his bare feet into the water, to stare at Shinra instead.

Shinra pointed ahead of him, “Go, it’s your turn.”

“Oh.” Shizuo mumbled, turning to find everyone else had already stepped up and were now waiting on him. Shizuo hurried forward and braced his feet at the end of the block.

“On your marks.” The teacher yelled once more, and Shizuo bent over to ready himself. “Get set. Go.” Shizuo used the balls of his feet to push off the block and dive forward into the pool. Airborne for less then a second, he watched the water come closer before letting his eyes slip shut to protect himself from the sting of chlorine and ducking his head to protect his face from the splash of water. His hands split the surface of it first, then the rest of his body followed. Shizuo let himself glide under the water for as long as he could before beginning to rise back up.

He brought one hand over his head immediately, then the other, all the while kicking his feet to propel himself forward. But swimming with his eyes closed was harder than he’d remembered, he had to blink past the water stuck to his lashes each time he turned his head for a breath just to gauge how close he was getting to the wall in front of him. Once he thought he’d reached it, he ducked down under the water and somersaulted to push back the other way. He wasn’t close enough to get much force behind the push, but Shizuo thought it was better than getting too close and knocking himself out on it.

Another handful of breaths and Shizuo’s next hand forward finally hit the slick edge of the wall. He raised his head and rubbed the wet from his eyes so he could pull himself up and out of the water. “Who won?” He asked Shinra, pushing himself up from his knee to stand.

“You did, obviously.” Shinra answered, stepping up to replace Shizuo’s position at the block.

“Oh… Okay.” Shizuo was honestly surprised he hadn’t drifted off and swum into someone else’s lane with the way he’d left himself, for the most part, blind. He shook the water from his hair as he walked around the side of the pool to take a seat next to Izaya — and now Kadota — by the edge. Shizuo dropped his feet into the water and leant back on his hands. Izaya immediately began swinging his legs in the water so his ankle would knock against Shizuo’s every time the other moved; Shizuo lifted his leg to catch Izaya’s foot under his calf and pin it to the wall of the pool, he kept swinging the other but let the one trapped under Shizuo’s leg stay perfectly still.

“On your marks. Get set. Go.” Shizuo looked up in time to watch Shinra dive off the block and into the water. Well, he thought dive was a bit too generous a term for the other boy. Shinra didn’t so much dive as he did belly flop into the water below him; Shizuo winced at the slap of sound.

“Pfft.” Izaya laughed at the other’s clumsy start to the race, he laughed so hard Shizuo found himself chuckling too, despite his best efforts to hold it back; Shinra was his friend, it wouldn’t do good to laugh at his misery. But even Kadota was laughing now, and Shizuo thought that meant it was okay if he did too.

Shizuo had no idea Shinra was so hopeless at swimming, the other three of his competitors were already finishing their first lap before Shinra was even halfway across the pool. And when they passed by him on their second, Shinra switched to breaststroke as a more efficient use of his energy. Shizuo watched him finally reach the other end of the lane, where the others were already finished and waiting, before struggling up out of the pool.

“That was horrible.” Shinra quavered as soon as he made his way over to where they were sitting.

“Yeah, it was.” Kadota chuckled, pulling his feet from the water and pushing himself up to stand. “I’m gonna go do a few more.”

“Good luck.” Shinra called, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by. “I’m going back to the fun pool.” He said, pointing his thumb behind himself.

Izaya sighed, “Me too.” Shizuo let his hold on the other’s leg go so he could stand from the edge of the pool as well. “Unless everyone wants to be swimming in my blood.”

Shinra laughed good naturally, patting Izaya on the shoulder like he’d done with Kadota. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to see reason.”

Shizuo followed them back to the first pool, glad they let him linger without forcing him to form some sort of an excuse for why he didn’t want to race. People were still playing and splashing in the water and Shizuo immediately slipped back in, realising it was warmer in now than it was out. He let himself float onto his back, arms splayed out at his sides, and drift through the water. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxing — he could still hear someone squealing from the other end of the pool, muffled through the water covering his ears — but he closed his eyes anyway, let himself savour the weightless feeling overtaking his body.

Small waves lapped at the sides of Shizuo’s face as he moved his feet, propelling himself slowly through the water. Even behind closed eyelids he could still see the glare of the ceiling lights, so when a shadow passed over Shizuo’s face and the flare of light dimmed down to true dark, Shizuo opened his eyes again on instinct to find Izaya standing over him, smile soft and outstretched hands cupped with water.

Shizuo narrowed his eyes into a threat, but it was too late, Izaya was already splitting his cupped hands over Shizuo’s face to let the water filling them fall and splatter over his closed mouth and screwed shut eyes. Shizuo fought against the urge to suck in a breath, but water made its way up his nose anyway. He immediately abandoned floating along his back to stand upright and shake the wet from his face instead. “Ugh.” Shizuo coughed, trying to evict the liquid he’d sniffed into his lungs. “You’re so annoying.” He growled, swiping a hand through the water to splash a wave in Izaya’s general direction.

Izaya twisted away from the spatter of water and laughed. “Shizu-chan looked too peaceful for my liking.” He drawled, smirking from under wet hair. Shizuo reached forward to try and grab at Izaya’s closest arm, but Izaya dodged easily, Shizuo’s fingers barely brushing the other’s wrist.

“Slippery ass flea.” He mumbled to himself, turning away from where Izaya had ducked under the water to escape Shizuo’s grasp. He’d barely taken a step forward through the water when he heard the splash of Izaya reemerging from under the surface, leaping up out of the water to grab at Shizuo’s shoulders and plaster himself to his back.

“Fuck.” Shizuo blurted, stumbling forward under Izaya’s sudden weight. He tipped over, almost far enough to dip the fringe of his bangs in the water, before straightening. “Get off me.” He reached back to dislodge Izaya by force, planning to throw him as far across the pool as he could manage, but Izaya had already wrapped his legs tight around Shizuo’s waist and Shizuo couldn’t gain enough purchase on the other’s slick skin to do more than push at his arms and legs. Izaya just laughed. “Jesus, what are you? A barnacle?”

Shizuo forced Izaya’s legs open from where they’d locked tight around his waist, but Izaya just kept squirming higher up the other’s body, clambering over Shizuo’s back to get away from the other’s desperate grip. Izaya’s foot caught at the top of Shizuo’s board shorts and, as he tried to climb further up the other’s back, he pushed the elastic down over his hips. “Hey!” Shizuo protested, using one hand to grip the top of his shorts and keep them from sliding down any further.

Shizuo tried to grab at whatever he could — Izaya’s shoulder, his ankle — and finally found a grip on the underside of the other boy’s thigh. Holding on tight, Shizuo made the sudden decision to change his tactic; instead of pushing Izaya away from him, he used his hold on the other boy’s leg to keep him pressed close and, after taking a deep breath, tipped back to fall into and under the water with Izaya still holding on tight behind him.

Izaya didn’t move under the water. Shizuo counted the seconds as they went past, as the oxygen in his lungs spent itself to empty, but Izaya kept still, not so much as tightening the arms circled around Shizuo’s neck or squirming where he was pressed to Shizuo’s back. How bloody long can the idiot hold his breath for?! Shizuo wondered. He’d always thought he had a fairly impressive lung capacity but apparently he’d underestimated Izaya’s ability to survive once again; or perhaps overestimated his own. Shizuo’s lungs were burning now, he had to exert a conscious effort just to stop himself from fidgeting, but he refused to give up before Izaya. Just one more second, he told himself. Just one more.

Shizuo broke the water with a gasp, Izaya — still draped over his back — breathing evenly.

“There you guys are!” Shinra yelped from a few metres away. “I thought you drowned.” He didn’t sound particularly concerned by the idea.

“Shizu-chan thought he could drown me.” Izaya drawled from behind him. “But I guess all that smoking has done more damage to your lungs than we thought, huh?”

“Shut up.” Shizuo bit back, making no move to extricate Izaya’s hold on his neck. He waded through the water with the other boy still attached to him like a very wet and bony cape. “I could hold it for longer if I was being serious.” He lied.

“Really?” Izaya asked, sounding skeptical. Shizuo didn’t answer.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Shinra chirped from where he was bobbing up and down in the water. “Let’s have a competition to see who out of the two of you can hold your breath longer.”

“That’s a stupid idea.” Shizuo quickly disagreed, but Izaya caught on like a shark in bloody water.

“Is that just because you know you’re going to lose?” He asked, Shizuo knew that if he dared to look over his shoulder, he’d find the other boy smirking.

“No,” He answered carefully, “It’s just a dumb game.”

Izaya sighed like he was being patient. “It’s okay, Shizu-chan.” He retracted a hand from around Shizuo’s neck to pet the blonde’s wet hair instead. “You don’t need to feel insecure about the size of your lungs.”

“I’m not.” Shizuo grit his teeth. “I’ll play the stupid game and beat you anyway.” He growled, distantly aware that he was playing right into the other’s hands. But Izaya was already sliding free from his back and chirping his okay, and Shizuo couldn’t take it back now without looking like an idiot. I’m gonna look like an idiot anyway when I lose, he thought to himself.

“Okay,” Shinra twittered, “You two go under when I say so and I’ll wait up here to see who comes up first.”

“Whatever,” Shizuo mumbled. Maybe he just hadn’t been focusing hard enough last time.

“Three. Two. One. Go!”

Shizuo opened his his mouth to breathe deep into his lungs before ducking under the water. It took a moment for him to blink his vision to clear; the chlorine stung his eyes, but another few blinks and it surpassed. Izaya was still smirking like he’d already won and Shizuo glared at him as best he could with red-rimmed eyes and all his focus on holding his breath.

Izaya’s hair looked even darker underwater, like long tendrils of ink floating around and framing his face. Shizuo watched his eyelashes drop to shadow his gaze with every slow blink. Izaya’s smirk drew wider and Shizuo knew he wouldn’t last with the distraction of Izaya in front of him, so he did the only thing he could do and closed his eyes to drown out his vision just as much as his hearing.

His chest was getting tighter but Shizuo resisted the urge to let go of what air he still held. The water displaced around him, Shizuo could feel it flutter along his skin, like Izaya was moving to upset the still balance of liquid between them. He had the sudden hope that maybe he was resurfacing, maybe Shizuo had already won, when something soft touched to the closed part of his lips.

Shizuo opened his eyes immediately, it was a miracle he stopped his body from sucking in a reactive breath on instinct. That softness moved over his mouth for a moment, like it was trying to catch the texture of his lips before drawing back, and Shizuo opened his eyes to watch Izaya slowly come into blurry view, retreating back from where he’d been too close to Shizuo’s face. His eyes were dark, his lashes half lidded, and Shizuo’s gaze dropped down to Izaya’s closed mouth, the soft seam of his lips that he knew must have been pressed to his own only moments before.

He kissed me, he thought to himself.

He was kissing me.

Shizuo’s mouth was open, parted just as wide as his eyes on shock, and he knew distantly that he was doing what he said he wouldn’t, opening his mouth to water that didn’t belong there, that was probably filled with enough bacteria to make him sick, but he couldn’t spare much thought for anything at the moment. He couldn’t tell if his heart was frozen in place or beating harder than ever. He felt dizzy, and that could have been his brain slowly starving of oxygen but there wasn’t enough thought to be spared for that either. Izaya had kissed him. He’d kissed him and—

Shizuo sucked in a breath, his distracted and hazy brain taking the wheel to bring in more air by force; and he choked, his lungs filling with water just as quickly as his body had made the decision to breathe without him. Shizuo pushed up to the surface of the water and broke to gasp and cough in alternate bouts. Water fell from his mouth with every flex of his lungs and new air replaced it.

“Izaya wins!” Shinra cheered from beside him, uncaring or just oblivious to Shizuo’s fight for oxygen. Izaya rose from the water a few seconds later, his cheeks were flushed but he wasted no time in laughing at Shizuo’s expense.

“Ah, I knew Shizu-chan was stupid but surely even you should know you can’t breathe underwater.” Izaya drawled, smirk stretching his lips. He ducked under the water again to swim further away and Shizuo watched Shinra chase after him. Only once he’d caught control of his breathing did he let himself think about how those same lips had been pressed to his less than a minute ago. Shinra and Izaya occupied themselves with splashing at the far end of the pool, seemingly lost in their own little world, and Shizuo stared after them, raising a shaky hand to catch the tips of his fingers against his lips and press; like if he tried hard enough, he might be able to hold the print of the other’s lips there.

What the fuck is happening to me?

Face too hot, Shizuo let a shaky breath leave his parted mouth and his hand drop back to his side.

“Shizuo, why are you still standing there?” Shinra called from across the length of the pool, hands curled around Izaya’s shoulders like he was trying to dunk the other boy under the water. “Come help me drown Izaya.”

Shizuo shook his head in an effort to clear it from the slow spreading warmth he could feel muddling his thoughts. He waded through the water slowly before ducking under in hopes that it might cool his face back to normal temperatures.

A short span of time later and Shizuo, along with the rest of his classmates were being called from the pool to shower, change and step onto the bus that would take them back to school. By that time, Shizuo’s fingers were pruned and wrinkled beyond recognition and he was cold enough to crave hot water almost more than he ever had before.

One they’d made it back to the change rooms, dripping wet along the tiled path there, Shizuo stepped into an empty shower stall to claim it for himself. He stripped down his board shorts and rinsed himself free of chlorine under the hot spray of the shower; every so often, in his distraction, he’d find his fingers back at his mouth, grazing his lips like they would ever be soft enough to replicate the press of Izaya’s own.

He quickly moved his hand to scrub up over his face and through his wet hair instead, shutting off the water with the free one at his side. He must have lingered under the water longer than everyone else because by the time he was emerging from the stall, towel wrapped around his waist, most of his classmates were already changed. Shizuo pulled his uniform back on hastily, tugging his underwear and pants up under the towel and slipping his shirt over still damp shoulders. His hair was still wet enough to make him shiver when he finally stepped back outside with the rest of his classmates, shuffling onto the bus and out of the wind running icy tendrils down the back of his damp neck.

Shizuo slipped into the same seat as he had on the way over, huddling into himself and shoving his school bag down onto the floor. Shinra took the seat in front of him again and Shizuo expected Izaya to sidle in beside him, to reclaim the space beside his friend he’d been sitting in when they’d left this morning, but Izaya kept moving past Shinra’s seat and slipped in next to Shizuo instead. Kadota paused in the bus aisle, staring confusedly between Shizuo and the space next to him that Izaya had taken upon himself to steal, before dropping to sit next to Shinra on the seat in front of them instead.

Shizuo tried his best to keep his gaze at the front of the bus, to decisively look anywhere but the space Izaya was occupying next to him. But even in his peripheral vision, Shizuo could see the way Izaya drew his arms tight around himself, shivering at the slow drip of water from his hair onto his nape. Shizuo bent over to pull at the bag he’d stuffed under his seat and fish out the dark jumper he’d left inside it.

“Here.” He mumbled, reaching out to shove the jumper into Izaya’s lap.

“Huh?” Izaya stared at the clothing folded over his legs like it was little more than a mystery, only reaching out to finger the soft edge of it when Shizuo made it clear he would be offering no further explanation for his action. “You’re not cold?” He asked quietly, curiously.

“No,” Shizuo lied, “I’m fine.” Out the corner of his eye, he watched Izaya slowly unfold the jumper before slipping his arms thought the sleeves and pulling it over his head. It was too big for him, that much became Immediately obvious. The cuffs of the sleeves ran past his wrists, and the hem bunched up at his hips. The size of it swamped him, making him look all the smaller for it.

Izaya stuck his hands out over Shizuo’s lap expectantly. “Can you roll the sleeves up for me?”

“Y- Yeah.” Shizuo stammered, flushing for reasons he convinced himself he didn’t know. He took the end of the sleeve covering Izaya’s left hand first, rolling the soft worn material up past his fingers until it sat framing the end of his thin wrist, before doing the same to the right one.

“Thanks.” Izaya murmured after he’d finished, bringing his hands back to his lap.

The bus lurched into motion.

Izaya pushed the hem of the jumper covering his lap up to better fit his hand inside the pocket of his jeans and pull his phone and headphones free. Shizuo watched him unlock the phone too fast to make any sense of the password and slip one side of the headphones into his left ear, holding out the other side out in front of Shizuo. Shizuo carefully took the offered object and pushed it into his own ear, letting his shaky hand fall back to his lap. Izaya shuffled closer over the seat, closing the gap between them to leave their arms brushing. He scrolled through the songs on his phone before finally settling on something Shizuo had never heard of, locking the device and slipping it into the front pocket of Shizuo’s hoodie.

Shizuo relaxed back in his seat as best he could given the circumstances, breathing deep and slow in an effort to calm his hard-beating heart. The music helped a little, distracted him from the warm press of Izaya’s shoulder against his own. When the music faded out to a close, Izaya pulled his phone free from the pocket of his jumper and held it out to Shizuo.

“You can pick something if you want.” He offered, dropping the unlocked phone into Shizuo’s lap and returning his hand back to the now-empty jumper pocket. Shizuo picked the phone up and scrolled through its artists in search for something familiar. His lips quirked up of their own accord every time he came across something particularly out of character for Izaya to be listening to: Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Shizuo thought he might have even spotted the soundtrack for a Disney movie in their somewhere. He eventually settled on an American band he’d heard a few songs from, The Neighbourhood. Thumbing down the list of what looked like every album they had, Shizuo picked the song he’d always liked most.

The music immediately blared to life in his single headphone and Shizuo locked the screen of the phone in his hands before moving to slip it back into the front pocket of the jumper Izaya was wearing. His hand brushed the other’s stomach through the soft material and then it brushed something else: Izaya’s own hand slipped into the opposite side of the pocket. Shizuo let go of the phone but lingered for a moment where their fingers were touching. Just as he began to pull back and remove his hand from the pocket, Izaya hooked a single finger around one of Shizuo’s retreating ones, not so much halting the motion as slowing it down enough for Shizuo to hesitate in leaving.

Shizuo let a shuddery breath leave his parted lips and pushed his hand further into the pocket, moving slow and hesitantly to tangle a few of his fingers together with Izaya’s smaller ones. Izaya released a small huff of breath, but when Shizuo chanced a glance at him, his face was too serious for it to be a laugh. Shizuo relaxed his hand over Izaya’s stomach, leaving it there tangled with Izaya’s own. After a few shaky breaths, Izaya tipped his head sideways to rest it at the tip of Shizuo’s shoulder.

Shizuo’s chest was tight, he didn’t know if it was the music or the way Izaya relaxed against him like Shizuo was the most comfortable thing in the world, or some confusing combination of the two, but he’d never felt like this before, like his heart was trying to clamber its way up out of his throat, like butterflies were beating their wings down low in his stomach, to the point where it was almost painful.

Shizuo closed his eyes to the stares he knew they were garnering — he could feel them boring into the back of his head — and let his fingers tighten around Izaya’s instead.

I don’t know what this is, but I’m done trying to convince myself it doesn’t feel good.

Chapter Text

Izaya stared blearily down at the note he’d almost stepped on, rubbing his eyes to clear the sleepy blur still holding his vision hostage. It must have been slipped under his door early morning because it certainly hadn’t been there when he’d fallen into bed and, many hours later, finally fallen asleep. Izaya gave up on trying to decipher it from a distance and leant down to pick it up instead.

Izaya,
I left early for a meeting out of the city this morning, I’ve let the girls have a day off school and taken them with me so they can come see you at your school’s festival later.

It hadn’t been signed, but it was more than obvious enough who’d left it. Izaya didn’t know why Shirou hadn’t texted him instead, or hell, just barged through the door he’d personally dismantled and shaken Izaya awake to deliver the news himself. Leaving a neatly written note under his door screamed of a formality he thought they’d flattened the moment they started pointing knives at each other.

With a weary sigh, Izaya scrunched up the small piece of paper and through it into the wastebasket under his desk. If he thought he’d been dreading this day before, he definitely was now. He pulled on the handle of his bedroom door to step out into the hallway of his quiet house and immediately make for the bathroom. Even after showering at the pool yesterday, and again before he’d gone to bed, Izaya thought he could still smell the chlorine clinging to his skin, so he stripped free from his T-shirt and underwear to step under the hot water and scrub himself once more.

The water was relaxing, the constant pressure of it pounding against his still tender back lulled him into a sleepy haze. He knew he should be twisting the handle and turning the shower to cold in an effort to bring some of his attention back, to give him some motivation in finishing his shower as quickly as possible, but he was so warm and comfortable and tired and—

Izaya let his eyes slip shut, let his blink linger long, and immediately some kind of relief swallowed him, forced his body to relax under the water and his legs to give out with the first breath of unconsciousness.

“Fuck!” Izaya was awake in seconds, more alert than he’d been all morning as his legs slipped out from under him and the tiled floor of the shower began to rapidly enter his vision. Trying to right himself and struggling to find balance on the slippery floor underfoot only lead to a more dramatic fall. Izaya’s knee hit the tiles first, a sharp surge of pain lancing up his leg from the sudden impact, and then, tipping forward, his forehead met with the unforgiving ground and every other piece of himself was drowned out by the burst of pain swamping his vision and stealing the air from his lungs.

It took a few seconds for the shock to wear off enough for Izaya to let out a long, broken groan. He squeezed his eyes shut and focussed on breathing more air into his empty lungs, on doing anything but passing out and potentially drowning himself naked on the shower floor. With every passing moment, the pain receded a little bit more, to the point where he didn’t think he was in danger of slipping unconscious from the pain alone. When Izaya slowly opened his eyes, his lashes flicked through the red tinted water running past his vision to slip down the drain behind him.

He pushed himself up on shaky hands and sore knees to watch a few more drops of blood fall directly from his forehead to splash and mix with the water below him. Izaya stood carefully, wary of his body giving the potential order to collapse once more without his brain’s explicit permission. He reached out to turn off the water without looking at the tap, and carefully stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat underfoot, keeping his head tipped up to prevent any of the red he could feel running down his face falling to stain the white fluffy material under him.

Izaya kicked the mat across the floor so he could stand in front of the sink and mirror without having water pool over the tiles at his feet. He would have groaned again at the very sight of himself if it didn’t require more energy than he thought he had to spare. There was a very obvious split on the right side of his forehead leaking a thin trail of blood down over his closed eye and cheek to slow upon reaching his upper lip. Izaya quickly pulled a facecloth from a draw under the sink and wet it to catch the end of the trail before it could travel any further.

He winced at wiping over the cut itself. When he pulled the cloth away and it just began to leak once more, he pressed it back to his forehead and held it there. Why on earth had he spent the last few weeks staring at a face and body, battered and bruised, more than he had in the past 16 years of his life. Soon people were going to start to think swelling and discolouration, and now possibly stitches, were just another permanent fixture of his face, like the few freckles over his nose, or the long lashes shadowing his eyes. He had to be the most unattractive he’d ever been in his life — aside from being a chubby, blubbering baby — and he wondered how people could look at him without gagging on sight, how the people he’d reluctantly come to call friends were still willing to be seen around him.

Izaya sighed and, while still holding the wet cloth to his forehead with one hand, he used the other to dry the rest of his body off with a towel. By the time he was finished, the bleeding had slowed enough for him to press a small piece of gauze to the cut and fix some tape around the edges. He’d ask Shinra to fix it properly once he got to school. Despite it hurting so much at the time of falling, the fact that he was still standing and walking meant his knee was probably fine, he’d be sporting a nasty looking bruise in a half hour or so, but that would probably be the worst of it.

Before leaving the bathroom, Izaya turned to face the mirror sideways and stare at the flat of his stomach, the way it sunk in under his ribs a little more than usual, making every skin covered bone a little more pronounced, and promised himself he’d eat something before leaving.

Izaya was glad to have the house to himself this morning, it meant he could linger in the kitchen a little longer, take the time to fry an egg for his toast and eat it relatively stress free. He downed a couple of painkillers with his coffee in the hopes they would at least dull the slow spreading ache in his head. After washing his dishes and leaving them to dry by the sink, Izaya left the house with his bag and his phone and locked the door behind him, ready to drag himself the rest of the way to school.

And drag himself he did.

The closer he got to his destination, the more the pain in his head receded to make way for his anxiety ridden thoughts, the more Izaya realised just how much he didn’t want to go, how increasingly apprehensive he was to face Shizuo after yesterday’s events; to the point where it felt like his feet were making a conscious decision to weigh more than usual, preventing him from doing any more than dragging them along.

As the adrenaline of the previous day had worn off, Izaya had spent almost every waking moment last night thinking about what he’d done, replaying the moment over and over until he’d surpassed overthinking and stumbled into obsession. He hadn’t stayed long enough to see the blonde’s reaction, but the way Shizuo had spoken to him on the bus, given him his jumper, practically held his fucking hand, made it obvious enough he wasn’t angry. Whether after having a night to think about it as much as Izaya had, he still felt the same, Izaya couldn’t be sure.

He fought the urge to groan and hide his face in his hands. God, it was all so… embarrassing. What had he been thinking?

I wasn’t thinking, he thought to himself. That’s the whole fucking problem.

He’d reacted on instinct. When Shizuo had closed his eyes under the water, left himself vulnerable to whatever Izaya was capable of in a space all but empty save for the two of them, his body had shifted closer through the water before his brain had really even caught up with the fact it was something he wanted to do. It had been like fighting the urge to breathe, harder than that because Izaya had managed to fight that urge for a lot longer than Shizuo, but when faced with the sudden, startling desire to…. kiss the idiot, he hadn’t found a shred of strength to save himself from doing it.

It was reckless, it was stupid and he wished he could forget. More than anything, he wished he wished he’d never done it. But that wasn’t the case, and if he was being honest, that was one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. Because the moment he so much as thought about it, the moment he told himself he regretted it, meant that it hadn’t been a joke, it hadn’t been another way to get a rise out of the idiot, meant it had been real. And that was something too terrifying to so much as question the possibility of, let alone accept, so Izaya picked up his feet for the rest of the way to school and willed himself to act like it had been nothing, almost positive Shizuo would be thinking the same.

The large grassy space preceding the front of their school was already filled to the brim with tables and shelters and half built contraptions. Students and teachers were milling about, filing in and out of the building with arms full and frantic energy pulling their attention. Izaya slipped his phone free from his pocket to glance at the time, just to confirm he was only the half hour late he thought he was and not the two and a half it was starting to look like. He wandered through the gates and down the gravel path cutting through the grass, looking out over all the half set stalls making their school yard look like a marketplace.

[9:01] Izaya: I just got here, going to the lockers. Where are you?

Izaya slipped his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and scaled the steps to the front of the building, dodging classmates carrying too much to see where they were going. He was tempted to sit by the stairs and wait for someone to fall and tumble down the length of them, but stepped inside to make for his locker instead.

Inside was just as busy as out. People were running between classrooms, carrying posters and stealing tables. Izaya pushed his bag into his locker and closed it behind him.

[9:04] Shinra: Stay there, I’ll come and get you.

Izaya sighed and turned to lean his back against the metal door. He was positive Shinra hadn’t seen anything at the pool, his lack of glasses and surplus of obliviousness took kind care of that, but Izaya berated himself for taking the risk anyway. If Shinra had seen, there was no way he’d ever hear the end of it.

And then I’d have to kill him.

Okay, maybe he wouldn’t have gone quite that far, but he certainly would have bred himself a new kind of living hell.

“Izaya, over here!”

Speak of the devil.

Shinra pushed his oblivious way through students and teachers already struggling to pass by, Izaya noted with some panicked disdain that Shizuo was following a little bit more carefully in his wake. He pushed himself away from the locker but kept his feet planted where he was, schooling his face into the most nonchalant expression he had in his arsenal.

“Hey,” Shinra chirped once he’d freed himself from the throng of foot traffic filling the front of the building. “We’ve only just started taking tables out and setting up, I’ll show yo—” He paused mid sentence to take a step closer and squint behind his glasses. “What the hell have you done to yourself now?” Shinra demanded, sounding more exasperated than Izaya thought he had any right to be.

Izaya instinctively brought his hand up to touch at the gauze and swelling he couldn’t quite hide behind his hair. “I…” Shinra’s focus was unwavering and it made Izaya hesitate over what lies he’d get away with feeding the other boy. Although it was a little embarrassing, Izaya thought he should make use of the one time he was actually able to tell the truth. “I slipped in the shower,” He explained, “Split my head open on the tiles.”

Shinra’s eyes widened slightly before he stepped even closer and brought a hand out to sweep the fringe of Izaya’s hair aside, taking a closer look at the bruising Izaya could already feel rising to the surface of his skin. “Now this time I actually believe you,” He chuckled, “I did the exact same thing when I was a kid.” Shinra shook his head with a smile, already pulling back to work on the combination of his locker. “I’ve seen you fly over fences and scale walls, how the hell do you manage to fall over in the shower?”

Izaya averted his gaze with a sigh, taking great interest in the group of people having trouble fitting a too large table through the door of a classroom. “I fell asleep.”

“Pfft, hah!” Shinra laughed at the admission and Izaya immediately turned to settle a glare at the back of the other boy’s head. Shinra paid it no mind, continuing to pull supplies from his medical bag. “I thought you were having trouble sleeping?” Izaya could hear the smile in his voice. “Can’t be that bad if you can fall asleep in a place like that.”

Izaya’s jaw clenched so hard, he thought he’d have to get Shinra to treat him for a broken tooth as well. He held back the biting retort close to his tongue — that as a ‘wannabe’ doctor, even he should know that wasn’t how insomnia worked, that he only fell asleep because he’d gone so long without a full night of it, that the only time he ever got close was when he was so tired he could barely stand. Either Shinra was not as well educated as Izaya had assumed, or he was being a prick. Both were just as irritating.

Izaya forcibly pulled his gaze away from the back of Shinra’s head, else he burn any holes in it, and unintentionally caught Shizuo’s instead. Shizuo was frowning but he didn’t look angry, he looked thoughtful, and before Izaya could harden his glare at the other for having the gall to stare at him, Shizuo ducked his head to look down at the ground instead. How annoying.

Shinra dragged him into the boy’s bathroom by a tight grip on his wrist, and Izaya fought the urge to close his eyes and shield himself from the harsh fluorescent lights. He was released in front of a sink and immediately turned to lean against it, let the porcelain edge rest at the small of his back. “Can you hold your hair back please?” Izaya ran his fingers through the front of his bangs to push them back over his head and hold them there. He didn’t wince when Shinra tugged at the gauze he’d haphazardly taped to his head, but it was a close thing.

“Ouch,” The other boy spoke with only a little bit of sympathy. “It’s deep but not very big. You should be able to get away with some butterfly strips.” Shinra wiped down the cut with what smelt and stung like alcohol, smiling unapologetically at Izaya’s flinch and glare.

The small plastic strips were easier to hide than the gauze and — once Shinra pressed them over the slightly swollen lump on his forehead — Izaya wasted no time in rearranging his hair over them.

“While we’re here I may as well do your back too.” Shinra spoke up from behind him. Still facing the mirror, Izaya tugged his jacket off his shoulders and his red shirt up over his head. Shinra pulled at the dressing he’d had on since yesterday with a tender awareness for the stitches underneath. “Hm,” He hummed to himself, “It’s looking good.”

“Great.” Izaya muttered, looking down into the drain of the sink just to avoid catching his own or Shizuo’s reflection in the mirror. Shinra pressed a new dressing to the centre of his shoulder blades and stepped away to throw the packaging into a bin; Izaya took that as a sign to pull his clothes back into place.

“No other hidden injuries I should know about?” Shinra asked, voice bright despite the nature of his question.

“Nope.” Izaya answered, the word not quite as chirpy as he’d hoped it to be.

Shinra sighed, “If I was charging you, I’d be rich by now,” And Izaya huffed a small amused laugh.

“If you were charging me, I’d be going to a real doctor.” He countered, despite knowing — for the most part — Shinra was just as capable as most doctors out there.

“No you wouldn’t, you’d just quietly suffer alone.” Shinra sounded sure of himself, like the statement was an obvious fact anyone could guess at just by looking at him. Izaya didn’t grace his friend with an answer — it was a little more honesty than he was willing to offer at the moment — and Shinra didn’t wait for one. “Let’s go!” He cheered, “We only have a couple hours to set everything up.”

Shizuo followed Shinra out of the bathroom and Izaya trailed close behind. They moved their way through crowded halls to outside the building, walking in silence as Shinra led them past the stalls to a place over the grass they’d already claimed as their own.

“Kadota must be inside getting more tables,” Shinra explained, and Izaya would be surprised if there were any left inside the building, if their group hadn’t already taken the majority for themselves. Half of the space Shinra had chosen had a few tables set up like counters, to greet customers and hold supplies, while the other half held a handful of single and double desks set apart individually to give the appearance of a small, cosy cafe. “Can you help Shizuo put tablecloths and plants on all the tables over there?” He asked, gesturing to the half of the space reserved for customers.

“Sure.” Izaya stepped around some of the tables to reach the mass of open plastic bags set along the counter and swallowed down a particularly painful stab of guilt. Everyone else, Shinra especially, had put so much effort into this ordeal, had brought so much stuff, and Izaya had done nothing but supply them with his useless, injured, inconsiderate self. He’d have to make it up to Shinra somehow.

As a start, he pulled the packs of small polka dotted table cloths from a bag and began unfolding them over each desk, placing one of the handful of small fake plants Shinra had bought for the occasion in the centre. At least Shizuo seemed like his same old grumbling self; answering short and curt whenever Izaya would ask him to pass something or chide him for doing things improperly. Not only was he acting like nothing of significance had happened, he was acting like he had before the last couple of weeks had turned him into an overly sympathetic stranger, like he was using every ounce of his energy to ignore Izaya’s presence.

“Izaya, can you put the poster up?” Kadota called from where he was unpacking pastries and deserts to lay them out across trays. Izaya picked up the large cardboard sign the other boy had apparently finished himself at home before bringing to school. It was far from what he’d have expected regarding Kadota’s artistic abilities; It was bright and bubbly and pink, letters curling and twisting to make up the words for Maid Cafe in glittery gel and ink. Izaya briefly wondered if he’d had help from some younger cousins.

One of their teachers had offered them an old gazebo out of storage, one they could use as a shelter over the side of the cafe holding their food. Izaya brought a chair to drop in front of it so he could better reach the metal frame along the top of the shelter and stick the poster there. He managed to press down the first corner and half of the top edge to a point where it looked stable, before realising he’d greatly underestimated the amount of blue-tak it would take to hold the cardboard in place.

“Shizu-chan,” He called, still holding the second half of the poster up. Shizuo looked up with a non-committal grunt from where he’d started sticking the smaller posters for prices of food and drinks along one of the tables. “Can you pass me more blue-tak?” He asked once he caught Shizuo’s gaze.

Shizuo ripped off a handful from the packet he was holding and passed it up without answering. Izaya stood as high as he could on the tips of his toes without loosing his balance over the chair and reached up to begin sticking the second half of the poster down. He could feel his shirt ride up with the action, feel the surprisingly warm breeze — at least for a winters day — brush against his lower stomach. Izaya reached the last corner of the poster with a final piece to spare and stepped down from the chair to admire his handiwork.

“We only have half an hour before people start coming!” Shinra announced, frantically placing stacked paper cups next to the blender over the table and double checking their stock of ice cream and milk in the esky.

“We’re pretty much done anyway.” Izaya tried to placate him, “Stop panicking.”

Shinra paused. “Huh, your right,” He admitted, only just now taking the time to gaze out over their luxurious looking set up. “This looks awesome.”

It really did, Izaya had to admit. Not only did the baked goods set along trays look nice enough to be passed off for handmade, but the entire area had a calm, cosy atmosphere to it that opposed most of the other stores selling like vendors without a place to sit. Izaya almost wished he wasn’t apart of the stall just so he could be here as a customer instead.

“Ah! Wait!” Shinra blurted in his place before quickly turning to rifle through the plastic bags. “I almost forgot the outfits!” Izaya fought the urge to sigh, the least he could do was submit to Shinra’s strange cafe fantasy and let himself be stuffed into a costume. “Celty picked them up yesterday so I hope they’re okay.” Shinra pulled a handful of plastic packets from the bag and handed them out.

Izaya grimaced at the picture on the front of the packet. He would not forgive Celty for this.

“Hey, this actually looks pretty cool.” He heard Kadota murmur from beside him and Izaya glanced over the other boys shoulder at the picture of a young man wearing a butler getup that look like it was straight out of an anime. He only just resisted asking him to swap.

“Shinra, these are too short.” Shizuo complained, “They’re not even going to fit us.” He was right, the model wearing the dress was probably shorter than Shizuo and the frilly end of the material still rode up high on her thighs. It looked more like a halloween costume than something you’d ever see being worn in a respectable cafe, and Izaya had to wonder if they really were going to get away with wearing something so scandalous.

Shinra looked up from his own costume with wide, hopeful eyes. “Please just try them on,” He pleaded, “Celty worked so hard to find these.”

Shizuo all but growled his obvious frustration, “Fine,” He capitulated, turning sharp on his heel to stalk out across the grass and away from their stall.

“We’ll hold the fort while you two go change.” Shinra called after him, bright smile lighting his face. Izaya quickly turned to follow after the blonde, catching up to him on the stairs leading back inside the school building. Shizuo was silent as they traversed the halls and stepped inside the bathroom they’d been lingering in hours earlier, he made straight for a toilet cubicle and shut the door behind him. Izaya stepped into the open one neighbouring his and turned to lock the door. He stripped down to his underwear and piled each neatly folded item of clothing over the closed toilet seat, sighing once he was left with only the packaged black and white dress in front of him.

Izaya tore open the plastic and pulled the fabric out, giving himself little time to study it before stepping into the open back and hitching it up to his waist. His arms fit through the sleeves with little effort but Izaya couldn’t quite reach where the zip was sitting at the small of his back. He unlocked the door and stepped into the bathroom.

“Shizu-chan, I need you to do up the back.” He called, moving to stand in front of Shizuo’s stall. There was no answer. “Shizu-chan?” He asked again, knocking softly at the top of the door.

“Nope.” Came Shizuo’s short reply from the other side. “Not coming out.”

Izaya sighed long and slow, “It can’t be that bad.”

Izaya heard the sound of Shizuo unlatching the lock and stepped back away from the door just short of being smacked in the face with it. Shizuo’s scowl looked a lot less threatening when paired with the flurry dress only covering half of his body, maybe even less than that. He hadn’t bothered to pull the front up and slip his arms through the sleeves yet, had just left his chest bare and the dress hanging like a skirt from his hips. Before Izaya could so much as raise an eyebrow at the intentionally mis-worn clothing, Shizuo stepped out of the cubicle and grabbed Izaya’s shoulder to turn him around by force, cutting off his view of the other’s bare skin.

Izaya could feel the dress shift as Shizuo tugged the zipper up his back. The fabric pulled tight across his shoulders and cut into the pits of his arms, but it fit better than he thought it would. In the mirror, Izaya watched the way the satin-looking black caught the light when he moved, the way the white ruffle trim of the skirt came to rest midway down his pale thighs, and then he watched Shizuo watching him; saw the other’s gaze run up the length of his reflection, leave what felt like burning trails in his skin, and then freeze at his eyes. Shizuo jerked his gaze away so quickly Izaya thought he could only have been less subtle if he’d openly denied seeing Izaya at all.

Izaya turned away from the mirror to face Shizuo again, this time with an eyebrow already risen and a prompt ready at his lips. “Well?” He asked when Shizuo refused to turn around. The other boy took a deep breath — Izaya could see it fill the bare chest before him — and let it out with a shuffle on his feet to turn around and bring his bare back into Izaya’s line of sight instead. Izaya gave him a moment to slip his arms through the short sleeves so the material covered his chest before stepping forward to pull at the zipper halfway down the the dress.

It was a struggle, more so than Izaya’s had been. Shizuo’s back was bigger, his shoulders broader, and Izaya had to alternate between using one hand to pull the material taught down by Shizuo’s waist and use his other to tug the zipper higher up the other’s back.

“Told you it wasn’t gonna fit,” He heard Shizuo mumble from in front of him.

“Shut up,” Izaya snapped, “It. Will. Fit.” He punctuated each word with a sharp tug to the zipper on the dress. He refused to be the only one wearing it, if he was going down, he was taking Shizuo with him, no exceptions. One final jerk and Izaya sighed relief as the zipper reached the top of it’s tracks. “There.” Izaya dropped his hands to his sides. “Fits perfectly.” He lied, stepping back to watch Shizuo turn around.

It did not fit perfectly. If Izaya’s was a little tight, Shizuo’s almost looked obscene. The black and white fabric stretched taut across his shoulders and chest, to the point where Izaya thought it was more than likely the seams would split at any given moment. Shizuo was taller than Izaya too, so where the ruffled white rode halfway up Izaya’s upper legs, Shizuo’s stopped at the top of his thighs, only just covering the curve of his ass. If Shizuo so much as bent over, or got caught by a slight breeze, Izaya guaranteed students and parents were going to get an eyeful of the other boy’s underwear.

Izaya could feel the blood rushing to his face and only just realised he’d been staring wide eyed after Shizuo chided him for doing so. “Hey!” The other boy warned, a little shrill and wavering, and Izaya looked up to find Shizuo’s cheeks burning just as red as he felt like his own must be. “Stop looking at me like that.” He ordered, dragging a hand up and through the messy blonde hair framing his flushed face.

Izaya took a sharp turn on his heel to begin walking out of Shizuo’s cubicle and back into his own. “It looks fine,” He promised on his way, “Stop complaining.” He couldn’t make out Shizuo’s mumbled protests from the other side of the stall, but it was just as well, because Izaya needed the extra time to will the colour from his face, to steady his voice and his thoughts at once. He gathered his folded clothes into his arms and tossed the plastic packaging for his costume into the bin. When he re-entered the bathroom — still empty save for the two of them — it was with his shoulders back and his head high. Even stuffed into a skimpy halloween costume, even with his body as bruised and battered as it was, Izaya thought he could still pull it off. And if not, well, he’d just have to fake his confidence until he felt it.

The same couldn’t be said for Shizuo. He shuffled out of the toilet still with his shoulders hunched and his head low, clothes hugged tight to his chest like they might offer him the support he so obviously needed. Izaya paused at the bathroom door to take a breath and hold it for the time it took Shizuo to drag himself behind him, and then let it go the same time he moved forward to push the door open and step out into the school hallway.

………………………………………………………………………….

There were stares, Shizuo knew there would be. Even with his quick strides through the hallway, eyes were immediately drawn to the black and white fabric far from their usual uniform. Izaya kept his chin high and his eyes forward, meeting anyone’s flustered stare with a saccharine sweet smile. But for all Izaya’s effort to keep from appearing affected by the attire, Shizuo was making none. He walked with his head down and his attention so fixated on the ground beneath him, Shizuo was surprised he had yet to run into another unfortunate classmate. He felt like he might be eternally red-faced, forever stuck in a moment of embarrassment so intense he was sure it would never not show. Teachers and students moved out of his way as he walked, some only just managing to dodge in time after pausing to stare for a little too long.

They stopped by their lockers to stuff clothes into bags and Shizuo tried not to flinch when he slammed the door to his own locker closed a little too forcefully.

Good job at not drawing attention to yourself, you idiot.

As soon as they made it back to the stall, Shizuo stormed inside and took a seat at one of the chairs they’d left sitting close to the back of the shelter, openly ignoring Shinra and Kadota’s wide eyes and gaping mouths. Shinra closed his mouth, looked between the two of them, and then licked his lips like he was thinking about opening them, no doubt ready to offer a string of words Shizuo was sure he didn’t want to hear. “Not a word, Shinra.” He growled out before the other boy could so much as part his lips. “Not a fucking word.”

Shinra closed his mouth quickly, moved his thumb and forefinger up to his face, and drew the pair of them across the closed seam of his lips to figuratively zip them shut. “You guys stay here while we go change now,” He turned to speak Izaya’s way instead. Izaya smiled with a few too many teeth for it to be genuine. “Sure.” He agreed, watching the two boys leaves with their plastic wrapped costumes in hand and their mouths still a little too tight on amusement.

Izaya sighed at the other’s retreat — in relief or exasperation, Shizuo couldn’t tell — before moving to pull a chair out from one of the small cloth covered tables it had been tucked into and drag it next to Shizuo’s instead. “What a nightmare,” Shizuo mumbled to himself as Izaya dropped into his chair, “This is an actual nightmare.”

Izaya huffed what sounded like a laugh next to him and Shizuo’s frown drew deeper, how the hell could he be so carefree as a time like this? Izaya was fiddling with the phone he’d pulled free from the small pocket in the front of his apron and Shizuo barely had a moment to wonder when he’d had the time to stash it there before Izaya was bringing it out in front of them with one had and pressing the button over the screen to capture an impromptu photo. “Oi.” Shizuo protested, making to grab for the device, but Izaya was too fast, was already leaning away from Shizuo’s reaching hands before he’d even realised what was happening.

Izaya flipped the phone upright and exited out of the camera to view the picture he’d just taken without Shizuo’s consent. It was the most ridiculous looking photo he’d ever seen featuring either of them. Shizuo was hunched over in his seat, had his arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl pulling every line of his face into a discomfort that would have been obvious even without the stupid costume stretched tight over his shoulders and chest. Izaya looked just as carefree as he had since they’d left the bathroom, his head was tipped close to Shizuo’s, one eye closed and two fingers up in a peace sign that he thought was supposed to make him look like a cute schoolgirl.

“Delete it.” Shizuo ordered from where he was looking at the photo over Izaya’s shoulder. Izaya held it protectively to his chest and smirked.

“No, I think I’ll make it my wallpaper.” He teased, mouth splitting into a grin at Shizuo’s growing irritation, just like it always had. Shizuo turned away from Izaya’s mocking smile and tightened his arms over his chest, he’d never wanted a day to be over as much as he did now.

Shinra and Kadota returned from the bathroom quicker than they had, obviously less embarrassed about the outfit they’d all but forced themselves to wear. Their costume was black and white, but that was about the only similarity it shared with Shizuo and Izaya’s own. They wore a white shirt with an inky black vest and bowtie, dark slacks and an apron probably four times as long as Shizuo’s own wrapped around their waist. Both of their costumes were of a surprisingly high quality and Shizuo wondered with guilt how much Shinra’d had Celty spend on them.

“Alright!” Shinra cheered, “People are arriving, so let’s get started.” Shizuo very reluctantly pulled himself out of his chair, making sure to tug on the hem of his dress and keep it in a somewhat respectable position, if such a thing was at all possible. “But first,” Shinra spoke up again, pulling his phone from his pocket, “We need to take a picture.”

Shizuo closed his eyes and groaned. “No, we don’t’” He whined, very much aware he was starting to sound like a petulant child.

“Shizuo!” Shinra gasped, “Don’t you want to remember this moment for years to come?” Shinra looked seriously hurt over the matter and Shizuo didn’t hesitate in answering.

“No. I really, really don’t.”

The other boy just smiled. “Too bad, because I do.”

Shizuo rolled his eyes, knowing he’d already lost the argument; Shinra could be just as stubborn as Izaya when he wanted to. Shinra ducked out of the stall and Shizuo had a moment to think about how this’d be the perfect chance to make a run for it — if running wouldn’t let half the school see more of him than he really wanted them to — before Shinra was returning with a girl from their class at his side, the blonde one Shizuo had almost run into on the bus.

“Vorona is going to take a picture for us.” Shinra explained, handing his phone to the girl in question. She didn’t look all too shocked at their appearances, her face as stoic as Shizuo had always seen it, but he thought her cheeks might have been a little more flushed than usual, her nose dusted a little more red. Vorona, he thought to himself. So that’s her name.

Shinra ran back over to the centre of their stall and began positioning each of them to his taste — Kadota at one side, Shizuo at the other, and Izaya next to Shinra in the middle. Kadota had his left arm slung over Shinra’s shoulders, and Shinra: one wrapped around Izaya’s waist. Shizuo kept his crossed tight over his chest, hoping it didn’t make him look as angry and uncomfortable as he truly felt.

“Shizuo stop crossing your arms,” Shinra ordered from where he was shuffling closer to Kadota and pulling Izaya tighter into his side. “Move closer to Izaya and put your arm around him. We’re all friends now and I want a picture to prove it!”

Shizuo very reluctantly uncrossed his arms from over his chest and took a step to the right, bringing him closer to Izaya. He awkwardly manoeuvred his arm to lay across Izaya’s shoulders, fingers brushing where the short sleeve of his dress ended and the bare skin of his upper arm began. Izaya immediately wound his arm around Shizuo’s back, let his hand come to rest at the dip in his waist made more obvious by the tight-fitting dress.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Shinra called to Vorona ahead of them. “Everyone smile!”

Vorona brought the phone up in front of herself and steadied it so they were all in frame. Shizuo felt Izaya pull him closer by the hold on his waist and, at the last second, tip his head to rest his cheek against Shizuo’s shoulder.

“Taking photo now.” Vorona informed them almost mechanically, and Shizuo willed the blood away from his face, forced himself to relax into a smile for the sake of a good photo. He held it for a second, two, and then Vorona finally lowered the phone and stepped forward to hand it back to Shinra. Shizuo let his hand fall from Izaya’s shoulder as Izaya retracted his own. “Here you go, I hope they are sufficient in quality,” She said. Shinra broke away from the line they’d made of themselves and took a moment to quickly flick through the photos Vorona had taken of them.

“Yep, these are great!” He chirped. “Thank you.” Vorona ducked her head and turned to make her way back to her own stall, a small smile straining her tight pressed lips. Shinra shoved his phone into the pocket on his apron and stood behind the table serving as their front counter, straightening up the calculator and small box of change they’d decided to use in lieu of a real cash register. “I guess now we wait…”

They didn’t have to wait long.

Shizuo was only granted with another few minutes of time to sit slumped over in a school chair before their first customer arrived. It was a young pair of girls, they ordered drinks from Shinra at the counter and blushed furiously once they caught sight of Izaya beginning to make them. Shinra seated them at a table for their wait, pulling out their chairs in a level of service most cafes didn’t bother to offer, before returning to their little kitchen setup. “You can take the drinks over to them.” Shinra suggested to Shizuo once he was within earshot. Shizuo’s frown dipped further.

“Do I really have to?”

“Yes!” Shinra chirped, “This is a team effort!”

Shizuo rolled his eyes but pushed up from his seat anyway, pulling the dress down over his thighs as far as he could without ripping the material in two. He held out his hands and Izaya placed a cool glass cup in each, filled to the brim with coloured, frothy milk. “Don’t you dare break them,” He warned, eyes narrowed at Shizuo’s tight grip around them. He forced himself to loosen it enough to look relaxed — but not enough to let the slippery glass fall right through his hands — and made for the only occupied table in their cafe.

“Here.” He grunted, unfamiliar with the etiquette of customer service and not willing to learn it now. He placed the drinks down on the table without asking who’d ordered what and walked back the way he’d come.

“Th- thank you.” One of the girls stammered at his retreat. Shinra was frowning when he made it back.

“That was terrible.” He deadpanned, forcing onto Shizuo his glare.

“What?” He asked, “I didn’t break it.” And wasn’t that enough? Shinra had asked a lot of him today and he could only do so much; walking around in a ridiculous outfit was the one thing he got, Shizuo was unwilling to put any more effort in this ordeal.

Shinra sighed, “You can be on drink making duty, Izaya can do customer service.” Izaya didn’t look much happier about it than Shizuo had but that didn’t mean he was going to refuse.

“Fine.” Shizuo mumbled, standing by the table stocked with things for making drinks and taking in the sight of each item in an effort to reorient himself with the process. Eh, he’d figure it out.

Customers soon began piling into the cafe, it was a warm day for winter and Shizuo wasn’t sure if it was the promise of cool drinks and cheap food that sent them all barrelling their way or if word had gotten out that they were housing circus freaks. He busied himself with putting food on plates and scooping ice cream into blenders, occasionally taking orders at the counter when Shinra and Kadota were busy helping Izaya wait. He liked that the most, the table supporting their make shift register was tall enough that it obscured most of the lower half of his body and Shizuo relished every second he had in standing there, even if it was harder to ignore customer's open shock at seeing his attire.

The other’s seemed to be doing fine, Izaya and Shinra would smile and laugh with customers, not so much as flinch away from the gaping stares of some of the boys from their year. There were a group of girls waiting at the front counter now, rattling off their orders to Shinra all the while sneaking glances of Shizuo starting to make them — red-faced and wide-eyed, before turning to whisper amongst themselves. It was too quiet for him to make out what they were saying but he could guess, hell he was more than surprised no one had outright laughed at him yet. He could tell how stupid he looked, could feel what they all thought of him, thought he could hear the jokes they were making, and he—

Crack

Shizuo looked down at the broken glass in his hand — caved in under the pressure of his own too tight grip — and slowly released it to let thick shards fall to the table below him, save for the few smaller ones lodged inside the palm of his hand. He forced himself to breathe, in and out, in and out.

“Calm down.” Someone spoke from beside him, and Shizuo turned to find Izaya standing there, collecting the broken bits of glass from the table and carefully placing them inside a spare box they were using for a bin. Shizuo heard another peel of laughter from the group being led away from the counter and to a table, and unconsciously clenched his fists, flinching at the sharp press of glass stuck inside his hand. “Stop it,” Izaya ordered, reaching out to uncurl Shizuo’s hand with his own, “No one is laughing at you.”

Shizuo glanced back at the table the girls had been seated at, still talking and giggling but their attention seemed to be on something else now, something that wasn’t Shizuo himself. “They weren’t making fun of you.” Izaya reassured him, delicately plucking the broken glass from Shizuo’s palm and chucking it in the box under the table. “Can’t you see they’re blushing and staring because they think you look good?”

Shizuo tried to fight off the wave of sudden embarrassment the words sent though him with the force of reason. That was ridiculous, there was no way anyone here possibly thought he looked good in what he was wearing, Izaya was just trying to cheer him up for god knew why. The only person who could possibly look good wearing something so stupid was Izaya; the idiot’d probably look good dressed in a potato sack, or one of those hot dog costumes he sometimes saw people in on the street.

Even so, Shizuo couldn’t help but be overtly aware — more so than before — of every place the dress he was wearing clung too tight or rode up too high. If it was possible to feel any more self conscious than he already had, he did now. He looked down in time to see Izaya pull free the last piece of glass, and with it a thin trail of blood. Before he could pull back on the other’s grip and bring his hand up to his face, stifle the small leak in his body with the pressure of his mouth, Izaya did it for him.

Shizuo jerked at the harsh yank on his wrist, followed by the much more gentle press of Izaya’s lips over the edge of his palm, and then he fell very, very still. Izaya had his eyes half lidded and shadowed by the weight of his lashes, but Shizuo’s were wide with shock. He could only stare helplessly as Izaya ran a long lavishing lick along the side of his hand, chasing the small trail of blood with his tongue. He could have said any number of things, made any number of protests: how inappropriate and potentially unhygienic the action was, how he hadn’t so much as hesitated to check if anyone was watching, but Shizuo just shivered silently instead. Izaya licked his lips as he pulled away, like he was savouring the taste of Shizuo’s blood on his skin, and then released his iron clad hold on the other’s wrist so it dropped back to Shizuo's side. “Don’t break anymore cups,” He warned, turning away to head back to wait tables without pausing to meet Shizuo’s baffled stare.

… What the fuck.

Shizuo took great care to not break any more of Shinra’s cups, silently relieved when they ran out of clean ones and had to move onto paper cups instead. It had been a few hours since they started — well into the middle of the day — when the near constant stream of people filing into their cafe stemmed to something slower. Their current customers only consisted of a few girls eating at a table and a pair of parents sipping through the straws of the drinks Kadota had just delivered them. Shizuo eagerly took advantage of their unusual quiet time and dropped into a chair for a break.

Shinra slipped into the one beside him and sighed dramatically. “My back hurts and these clothes are too hot.” He complained, slumping further into his seat, like his spine had suddenly given up on supporting the rest of his body.

“It was your idea,” Izaya reminded him from where he was leaning back against the front counter, prodding at the scabs on his knuckles. “You’re the last person who gets to complain about it.”

Shinra pouted but let the rest of his whining go unheard, he stayed sagged in his seat for another minute before suddenly sitting up. “Izaya, we have another customer.”

Izaya’s attention left the damage on his hand and he pushed away from the table to twist around and face the new customer Shizuo recognised almost immediately.

Izaya froze very abruptly under the other man’s gaze; from where Shizuo was sitting he could only just see the side of his face. Izaya looked very pale, and then he looked very red, the change so sudden his body must have been reeling from biological whiplash. “Shirou.” He finally managed, and if Izaya was surprised at seeing his father, Shirou looked almost just as bad, eyes wide on a sort of flustered shock Shizuo had never had the chance to see from the otherwise composed man.

Shirou’s gaze left Izaya’s face and slowly travelled down the length of his body, taking in the unusual and inappropriate school attire, before shifting to glance at the other members of their stall, pausing on Shizuo sat stiff in his chair. “Um… what are you all wearing?” He asked slowly, like he was trying to wrap his head around the sight of his son and his son’s friend dressed in drag.

“It’s a maid cafe,” Izaya muttered like that was explanation enough. He looked away from Shirou and stared off to the side of their stall, where other customers were still enjoying their food and drinks.

“Right.” Shirou answered, brows furrowing slightly. “The girls are here,” He quickly volunteered, Shizuo wasn’t sure who the change in subject was meant to benefit but Izaya seemed to sag under the relief all the same, “They wanted to see you.”

Shirou finally tore his gaze away from where it had been lingering at the lines of Izaya’s outfit and looked to the vacant space behind him instead. “They were here, I don’t kn—”

Shirou cut himself off at the sound of a sharp squeal and Shizuo watched Mairu and Kururi race forward from where they’d stepped around the side of the stall. He could see the muscles in Izaya’s shoulders shift under the thin material of the dress he was wearing as he braced himself against the impact of both girls. They fought for a hold around his waist, gazing up at their brother with a look Shizuo could only describe as awe.

“Iza-nii’s wearing a dress!” Mairu squealed again, attracting the attention of nearby customers and people passing just outside the stall.

“Be quiet,” Izaya muttered, reaching out in an effort to detach the girls clinging to him almost as tight as his clothes.

“But Iza-nii looks so cute!” She insisted, if only a little softer than before.

“Hot.” Shizuo thought he heard Kururi whisper under her breath.

“Yeah Iza-nii looks hot!” Mairu blurted the statement without a hint of hesitation. “Can we dress you in our clothes at home too?” She asked, Kururi nodding her head in eager agreement.

“No.” Izaya immediately answered, but Shizuo could see the strain ever so slightly easing from his shoulders, could see the barely there smile tightening his lips.

“Aw,” They pouted in unison, unwrapping their arms from around their brothers waist to shift their attention elsewhere; Shizuo flinched when it landed over him. He immediately made to look in another direction, hoping their gaze would slide right over him if he was fervent enough in ignoring it. “Shizu-nii’s dressed up too!” Mairu squealed, racing over to where he was still sitting. His position meant both girls found it hard to embrace him the way they had Izaya, so they made do with each clutching onto one of his mostly bare legs. “You both look so pretty in a dress, now we don’t now who’s going to be the bride when you get married!”

Considering he didn’t choke, Shizuo thought he was already fairing a lot better than the last time they’d brought the subject up, but that didn’t mean it would stop surprising him. If anything, Izaya looked more affected by it; he whimpered a strangled sound and chided the girls with still-pink cheeks. “Mairu, Kururi, stop embarrassing Shizu-chan.” Shizuo wanted to point out that Izaya was the only one who looked embarrassed right now, but thought better of it. “Are you going to order something or not?”

The girls immediately detached themselves from Shizuo’s leg and skipped back to the front counter to stare up at their father. “Can we daddy? Can we please?” Kururi punctuated Mairu’s pleading with small tugs to the sleeve of Shirou’s shirt.

“Only one thing each,” He relented, “You’ve already had too much.”

Shinra stood from his seat as the girls looked over the their small menu, taking Shizuo’s place in preparing food and drinks without Shizuo having to ask him. Shizuo watched Izaya take the girl’s orders, adding up the prices of each milkshake with the calculator left at the front counter, and then handing back Shirou’s change. He didn’t look quite as tight wound as he had upon his family’s arrival, but Shizuo could still see the skittish nervousness evident in the strain at his shoulders, in the subtle anxious ticks he couldn’t help but start to notice even when faced with the other boy’s turned back.

Izaya was fiddling with the lace hem of his dress with one hand, tugging at the fabric and shifting awkwardly under his father’s thoughtful attention. Shizuo pretended to watch Shinra scoop large spoonfuls of ice-cream into the blender but when Shirou reached out a hand to sweep the hair from Izaya’s forehead, all of his attention was held by the way Izaya flinched back from the contact. It was only small, a slight jerk of his head that looked more reflexive than anything else, and Izaya was righting himself almost as soon as he’d done it, straightening up and letting his father’s hand linger at his hair without moving away from it.

Shirou retracted his hand with a frown, “What happened to your head?” He asked.

Izaya just shrugged. “Slipped in the shower,” He mumbled, bringing his own hand up to rearrange the hair over his face so it was covering the cut there. Shirou’s lips turned up at the edges and he huffed a small surprised laugh.

“That’s pretty clumsy of you.”

From where he was sitting, Shizuo couldn’t see Izaya’s answering expression, but he obviously didn’t deem the comment worthy of reply. At least he now knew Izaya’d been telling the truth about the way he’d hurt himself, or well, at least he knew he wasn’t lying because Shirou had bashed his head into a wall; there was still a chance someone else was hurting him.

Or maybe he was just that clumsy.

After Shinra had finished making their milkshakes — piling so much whipped cream on top it was in danger of toppling over the side of the cups — the girls left the stall with a series of chirpy goodbyes and small excited waves, Shirou trailing behind them. Almost as soon as they were out of view, Izaya returned back to the chair Shinra had left vacant and slumped down into it, leaning his head back with a huff of air and closing his eyes. He looked more exhausted than he had a few minutes ago and Shizuo wondered if interacting with his family really drained that much energy from him.

Service slowed even further for the next hour or so and Shinra and Kadota managed most of the work between the two of them, leaving Shizuo and Izaya with some much needed emotional respite. When the customers started to slowly trickle out, and no more came to replace them, they decided to call it a day and begin packing up with other students already doing the same.

“I’d say that was a success.” Shinra chirped after they’d finished putting away most of their things, only a few tables and chairs left to be carried inside. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Sure.” Shizuo dismissed tiredly, he was ready to go home.

“No, I’m serious.” Shinra insisted, the change of tone enough for the three of them to look up from what they had been doing and offer their attention to what the other boy had to say instead. “I know it wasn’t something you guys really wanted to do so it means a lot to me that you went along with it anyway.” Shinra’s eyes were bright behind his glasses, his smile wide, and Shizuo found some of the tension in his chest easing at the sight of it.

“It’s fine.” He spoke with a little more sincerity, because really it was; what was having to embarrass himself for a day when it meant he was making one of his closest friends happy?

By the time they’d carried the rest of the tables inside, it was well into late afternoon, the sky already beginning to dim with the early evenings that always seemed to come with winter. Shizuo had changed out of his costume almost as soon as they’d seen their last customer leave, shoved it into one of Shinra’s bags with a good riddance he’d thought but not voiced.

They all walked together away from the school, each carrying some of the many bags of supplies and equipment Shinra had apparently managed to carry to school himself. When it reached the point in their journey where their paths diverged, Kadota volunteered to help Shinra bring the rest of his things home, seeing as he was the only one who really lived anywhere close to that direction.

Shizuo waved goodbye to his friends, returning Shinra’s goofy smile with a small one of his own before turning away to follow Izaya along the road leading back to their homes. Shizuo slowed to a stop when the road forked off into two different directions. “It’s getting dark,” He spoke past the quiet, “Do you want me to walk to home?”

Izaya looked up to glare at Shizuo from under his hair. “I can take care of myself.”

Shizuo glared right back, the action coming too reflexively for him completely thwart it. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Izaya sighed like he was exasperated. “It’s fine, you should go. You’re family is probably waiting for you.”

Shizuo let the other’s gaze go so he could stare at his shoes instead. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He murmured, struggling with the urge to step forward and pull Izaya into a hug. He dug his heels into the ground instead, only looking up from them at the sound of Izaya’s voice.

“Yeah, see you.” Izaya took one step backwards, and then hesitated on the next, like he was fighting his body’s desire to turn around and begin walking home. Shizuo stayed very still as Izaya took one careful step forward to replace the space he’d left, and another two to cover the distance left between them. On his last step, he reached up to carefully curl his arms around Shizuo’s neck, like Shizuo might lash out and bite him if he moved too fast. Shizuo immediately brought his hands out to wrap around Izaya’s lower back, steadying him and pulling him closer at once.

Izaya sagged into the contact, relaxing his body, and dropping his head to rest at Shizuo’s shoulder. He felt him take a breath, chest moving as he pulled the weight of it in through where his nose must have been pressed against the collar of Shizuo’s jacket, before letting it back out in a short laugh.

“What?” Shizuo asked, hands unconsciously tightening around Izaya’s waist.

Izaya sighed. “Just… this,” He mumbled softly. “It’s weird.”

“Bad weird?” Shizuo asked reluctantly, half afraid of the answer he might get. Izaya shrugged as best he could with his arms still looped around Shizuo’s neck.

“I don’t know yet.”

It wasn’t the no he’d been hoping for, but it also wasn’t the yes that he’d feared, so Shizuo counted his blessings and kept his mouth shut until Izaya released his hold and made to pull away from his body. Shizuo let him go easily, fingers trailing along Izaya’s waist before dropping back to his sides.

This time when Izaya stepped back, he turned away with more success, beginning the walk down the street that’d take him back home. “Bye,” He threw over his shoulder, a lazy wave with it.

“Bye.”

Shizuo was glad Izaya didn’t turn back around after he’d started walking, because it wasn’t until the other boy was halfway down the street that Shizuo could bring himself to move from where he was still standing. He walked slowly, almost aimlessly; he felt like he was glowing and he took the time to linger in it.

I need help, he thought to himself. It can’t be healthy to feel this good.

The air was no where near as cold as it had been the last few nights, but Shizuo found it harder to breathe anyway, every inhale catching on some intangible weight stuck in the back of his throat. He picked up his feet, sped up his waking, eager to get back home and go to sleep.

Eager for the day to be over so he could wake up and start it again.

Chapter Text

Few times before Shirou reappeared had Izaya ever been so apprehensive to step inside his own house.

When he was younger, on more than one occasion he’d slipped out of his bedroom window to go walking the streets at night and had been wary to return and face the wrath of his mother had she found out, but never like this, he’d never been — loathe to admit it — afraid of what might happen to him. He’d never had to. But Shirou was an unpredictable force of fucking nature when it came to how he reacted to what Izaya did, to how he so much as breathed, so Izaya thought he could be forgiven for being a little apprehensive.

Izaya slipped inside quietly. He let the door shut behind him with no more than a soft click and toed his shoes off with a care for what sound they made. The house was quiet — eerily so — and Izaya wondered what his sisters could be doing that was keeping them so silent. Instead of venturing further into the main part of the house, Izaya travelled up the stairs and made his way into his room, dropping his school bag onto the ground beside his desk. He changed out of his uniform, throwing it into the corner of the room he’d reserved for clothes he couldn’t be bothered taking to the wash basket in the bathroom, and slipped into a pair of soft black shorts and a dark grey T-shirt instead.

Only once he was halfway out his room did Izaya realise he’d left his phone in the pocket of his school jeans. He quickly returned to the inside-out tangle he’d left of them and slipped the phone free to replace it in the pocket of his shorts. The house was just as quiet as he travelled back down the stairs as it was when he’d travelled up them. Shirou’s car was still in the driveway so he knew he couldn’t be alone, but the laughing and teasing he’d half expected from his sisters upon returning home was conspicuously absent.

As Izaya moved further into the house, he could hear the soft murmur of the TV on low, and as he turned the corner to the kitchen, could see Shirou leaning back against the counter with his attention held by the phone in his hand. He looked up from it at Izaya’s approach. “I didn’t hear you come home,” Shirou said by way of greeting. Izaya just shrugged, watching as Shirou slipped his phone into the pocket of his pants.

“I was quiet.” He looked around the empty dining room and kitchen, tried to peer into what looked like an empty lounge room too. “Where are the girls?”

Shirou pushed away from the counter altogether and moved to open the fridge instead. “Yuriko picked them up. Apparently it’s one of their cousin’s birthdays so they’re having dinner there.” Izaya nodded slowly, wondering why his aunt hadn’t messaged him her plans before now.

The house was cold, like a window had been left open somewhere within it, and Izaya shivered, feeling more uncomfortable than he had now that he knew they were alone. Shirou closed the door to the fridge and when Izaya looked up to track the motion, the other man was already staring at him with a strange look in his eyes, like Izaya was a puzzle Shirou was struggling to make sense of and couldn’t help but be angry at himself for it.

Before Izaya could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Shirou looked away with a sharp jerk of his head and began reaching up to open kitchen cupboards. “What do you want for dinner? I haven’t decided what to make yet.”

Izaya moved closer to the dining table, pulled out a wooden chair and dropped himself to sit in it. “I’m fine with whatever.” He wasn’t very hungry anyway, he’d already gorged himself on some of the too-sweet deserts they’d had leftover from the cafe, the idea of more food so soon was honestly making him feel a little sick.

Izaya watched as Shirou moved quietly around the kitchen, pulling out pots and laying a cutting board over the counter. The clock ticking on the wall was irritating him; it made him feel like he was sharing the room with a bomb, sounded like it was counting down the seconds ‘till Shirou exploded in some unpredictable shift of personality. Izaya sat, waiting for something: the next catalyst to set Shirou off, the next new thing to derail his life from the seemingly decent direction it had recently been taking.

He almost jumped right out of his seat when the phone started to ring.

It took a few seconds, and Shirou turning back to stare at him, for Izaya to realise it was his own phone calling his attention. He quickly pulled it from the pocket of his shorts and brought it to his ear without looking at the caller I.D. The phone immediately connected and Izaya spoke into the open line, “Hello?”

“Izaya.”

“Yuriko.” Izaya greeted, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. Shirou’s gaze narrowed at the phone in his hand and Izaya pushed himself up from his seat at the table to make his way further into the lounge room instead, where distance could grant him some privacy for their conversation.

“How are you?” She asked.

“Fine,” He answered, short and curt, aware there was only so much distance he could force between him and Shirou whilst still standing in the same house. If this conversation was bothering Shirou, then he wanted it to be over as soon as possible. “What’s going on?”

Izaya could hear Yuriko sigh on the other end of the line, it crackled through like static where her mouth was pressed too close to the microphone. “I took the girl’s back with me.” She paused for a moment, like she was letting Izaya brace himself for whatever she had to say. “They’re staying here for a while.”

Izaya swallowed. “For dinner?”

Yuriko sighed again and, with a sudden burst of irritation, Izaya fought the urge to yell at her to pull the phone away from her face if she was going to breathe into it. “For a while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked louder than he really meant to, it was getting hard to keep his voice down.

“I didn’t want Shirou to find out somehow. It was after school so I assumed you’d all be home, I was planning on taking you too.” Izaya wasn’t sure if she was saying it just to make him feel better but he really didn’t want to ask and know for sure. “Being young girls, I figure it’s more important they stay with me. They’re at more of a risk if they’re alone with him.”

Izaya wanted to scoff, Izaya wanted to scream. What about him? Hadn’t she been the one to point out his bruises? Didn’t she see the way Shirou sometimes looked at him like—

Izaya took a shaky breath and hoped it went unheard on the other end of the line. He knew Yuriko thought she was doing the right thing by taking them away, but didn’t she realise how much danger she was leaving him in when he was alone? As far as Izaya could tell, Shirou had yet to lay a finger on the girls, they were the only buffer between Izaya and Shirou’s all consuming hate for him. With them gone, Izaya was at more of a risk than the girls probably ever would have been.

He appreciated that she thought he could take care of himself but he couldn’t. Not like this. He’d been walking a tightrope for the last few weeks and he was one small breeze away from losing his balance.

Izaya must have been silent for too long because Yuriko began speaking again, “I can still come back and get you now. There’s not much room, I only bought a new pull out sofa for the girls, but you can probably sleep with me if you want to.”

Izaya was conflicted, of course he wanted out of his suffocating living arrangement but he couldn’t force all of his problems onto someone else. He should have been grateful that Yuriko was doing what she could to help, that at least now Izaya wouldn’t have to worry about scaring the girls or making them upset when he inevitably fought with Shirou.

“I’ll be fine,” He said. Izaya thought about his friends, thought about Shizuo. “I’ve got things I can’t leave here.”

“…It’s only temporary,” She tried to reassure him. “I’m going to find a long term solution for all of you, I promise.”

Izaya wouldn’t hold his breath. The only viable solution was if he somehow managed to scare Shirou off without alerting child services, drop out of school to pursue his — precarious at best, outright dangerous at worst — choice of work full time, and devote the next eleven years of his life to raising two children, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Okay,” He said instead.

“Izaya.” Yuriko’s voice was gentle, soft like he remembered his mother’s being.

“Yeah?”

There was silence for a moment, quiet drawn long by some kind of hesitance on Yuriko’s end, then: “Stay safe,” and the line clicked off into a series of beeps, the connection between them cut with just the press of her finger.

Izaya ended the call and let his hand drop to his side. What was he supposed to do now? Was he supposed to say something to Shirou? What did Yuriko think was going to happen when she failed to bring back his children tonight? She’d left him in a bit of a precarious situation and Izaya seriously doubted her forethought if she hadn’t been able see how this was all going to play out. Izaya shuffled back out towards the kitchen, took his previous seat at the table without lifting his gaze from the phone in his hands, and pretended to sort through some of his old emails.

“How is your dear aunt?” Shirou asked from the kitchen. Izaya looked up from his phone to watch his father’s turned back, to listen to the sound of the knife he was holding slice through vegetables and smack against the cutting board.

“She’s fine.” He answered, urging himself to leave it at that, to say goodnight and go to bed and barricade his door ‘till morning. Izaya flicked his eyes back to his phone, let his attention be seemingly enraptured by it when it was really anything but. “Yuriko said the girls are going to be staying with her for a while, something about wanting to spend time with their cousins.” Izaya created a new folder on his phone and then deleted it. He turned the brightness up, and then turned it back down. “They won’t be coming home tonight.”

Shirou was silent for a long time, so long that Izaya started to doubt he’d actually spoken at all, that he hadn’t just taken part in a conversation within the space of his own head. But when Izaya looked back up, reluctantly tore his gaze from the screen of his phone to settle it on Shirou’s turned shoulders, he saw that the other man had stopped chopping, the knife in his hand gone still at the counter.

Izaya realised a bit belatedly that it probably wasn’t the best time for an argument.

“Is that so?” Shirou’s voice was quiet, like he was only speaking for the sake of himself. Izaya watched his father’s hand clench around the handle of the knife he was holding, watched him lift the blade into the air and then bring it back down to resuming cutting something over the board. “That’s fine.”

Izaya’s gaze narrowed, when he spoke it was skeptical. “Really?” He asked, only distantly aware that he shouldn’t be poking the fire he was trying to put out.

Shirou shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll have to go shopping for more food before they get back anyway. They sure eat a lot. When is Yuriko dropping them home?”

Izaya cringed, he almost felt a little bad for Shirou — almost. He’d obviously grown attached to the girls and Izaya didn’t know how to say that this wasn’t a short-term thing, that if Yuriko had her way he’d probably never see them again. “She didn’t say. I think they’ll be gone for a while though.”

Shirou’s cutting slowed to a stop again. “How long?” He pressed.

“I just said she didn’t say,” Izaya snapped, forgetting to strip the anxiety turning to irritation from his words. “I mean— I don’t know,” He tried to backpedal, but Shirou’s shoulders were already tensing under the fabric of his shirt, his hand was flexing around the handle of the knife.

“This is all your fault,” Shirou hissed. He lifted the arm holding the knife and — unlike last time — drove the sharp point of the blade down hard enough to leave it lodged inside the kitchen countertop. Izaya didn’t flinch; he was on high alert, ready to move the moment Shirou decided to fling the knife at him. Of course it was his fault, everything was always his fucking fault.

Shirou whirled around, bringing the stormy set of his gaze into Izaya’s view and the back of his rigid shoulders out of it, but when he stepped forward and away from the kitchen, it was with the knife still sticking out of the counter. Despite what he believed about standing his ground, Izaya moved back at Shirou’s approach, doing his best to keep the distance between them. He stumbled on the chair he’d been sitting in but quickly moved around it, positioning himself so he could use the object as a barrier before him. Shirou stepped right over it, stretching long legs to move past the obstacle like it wasn’t even there. “You told her to take them away, didn’t you? You wanted them to go.” Shirou’s voice was rough with the anger lacing it. Izaya took another step away and stiffened when his back hit the wall.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, voice rising with his level of helplessness. “The only person you hate here is me.”

Shirou stopped once he was close enough to cast Izaya entirely in his own shadow. His eyes were still very dark, like they always were when Izaya got this close, but Shirou’s face eased out of the intense anger gripping it, his jaw softened into the same look Izaya had caught him wearing when he’d first seen him this evening; like Izaya was doing something that kept confusing him more than it was angering him. Shirou reached out and let his hand come to rest at Izaya’s face, let his fingers graze the soft skin of Izaya’s cheek and Izaya did flinch then, the gentle touch a thousand times more startling than the violent one he’d been prepared for.

“I don’t hate you.”

Shirou spoke quietly, his gaze affixed on Izaya’s face like he was trying to trying to commit every one of his physical characteristics to memory. His fingers slowly tracked up to his temple and across his forehead, his thumb ran down the length of Izaya’s nose and over his cupid’s bow, coming to rest at the set of his closed lips. Izaya stared up Shirou with wide eyes, watching the other man transfix himself with touches so soft and careful they were almost reverent.

“You look just like I did back then.” His words were a murmur, Izaya had to strain to hear them, “Exactly.”

When Shirou’s hand trailed down the stretch of his throat to trace along his collar bones, Izaya squeezed his eyes shut, like he might be able to pretend it wasn’t happening so long as he couldn’t see it. His lips were pressed tight, holding back what felt disgustingly close to a sob, but he must of made some sort of sound, or maybe Shirou just paused long enough to realise what he’d been doing, long enough to pull himself out of whatever trance had clouded his gaze and taken hold of his body because the touches suddenly stopped; Shirou retracted his hand like the heat of Izaya’s skin had burnt his own to blisters.

Izaya opened his eyes just in time to see Shirou reel his clenched fist back; closed them just in time to protect himself from a plume of plaster and dust as he drove his fist forward and through the wall beside Izaya’s head.

Izaya stayed very still, listening to the sound of his own fast breathing though the blood roaring in his ears. When he opened his eyes again it was slowly, like a too-sudden flick of his lashes might spook Shirou into doing further damage. Shirou had his head ducked low, his hair hiding most of his face. Izaya watched him pull his hand back and out from the wall, a small pile of chipped paint and plaster tumbling after it.

Shirou stumbled a step away from Izaya and let his already bloodied hand fall to hang by his side. He turned and began walking slow towards the front entrance, gaze chained to the ground the entire time. He pulled at the door and paused with it open, like he had something he needed to say, before thinking better of it and stepping out of the house, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Izaya stayed standing and pressed against the wall while the sound of Shirou’s steps faded into nothing, while the engine of his car rumbled to life. He only let himself step away from it once he was sure the driveway was empty and Shirou was long gone. The urge to lean back against the wall was strong, to slide down the length of it and let himself stay sitting in the piled rubble, but Izaya kept walking instead, moved past the table and towards the empty kitchen. He pulled the knife from the counter and laid it flat along the cutting board, moved the pot of water already boiling over away from the stove and turned off the heat.

Before heading for the stairs, Izaya moved back to the broken wall and stood before it. Shirou’s fist had gone completely through it; whatever material it was made of had caved in on itself and left a dark hole in his father's wake, one that Izaya couldn’t bring himself to look inside. He shifted his attention to the small hall table further down the wall instead, stepping sideways to grasp it by the edge and haul it back along the floor. He moved the plant it was supporting directly in front of the broken wall, tried to rearrange the leaves so it covered most of the evidence. Not that it mattered; the only person who he’d have worried about seeing it was the one who’d put it there in the first place.

Izaya kicked his bare foot through some of the debris on the ground — he’d clean it tomorrow — and made his way upstairs towards the bathroom. He flicked on the light but kept his face away from the mirror. Izaya stepped inside the shower and sat himself on the tiles still fully clothed, only twisting back to turn on the water once he’d already pulled his knees to his chest.

It was too hot — the handle for cold was further away and Izaya could only reach it enough to turn it slightly — but he let himself sit under it anyway, dropping his head to rest at his knees and curling his arms around his legs.

Izaya watched the water part around his pale feet and wondered what he was still doing wrong, what it was he needed to change.

He wondered why people didn’t look at him like he was as disgusting as he always felt.

Chapter Text

Izaya arrived to school on time.

For the first time since he’d started treating him as an ally and not an enemy, Shizuo watched Izaya file into the classroom before the teacher had already begun calling the roll. Izaya didn’t glance up from where he was looking at his phone, just weaved his way through desks and passed Shinra’s beaming smile without acknowledging the other’s chirpy greeting, let alone bothering to offer one back.

Shinra’s smile faltered when Izaya ignored him, his waving hand dropped back to his lap. Izaya took the seat at his desk, leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto the table with his attention still otherwise preoccupied by the screen in front of him and a frown pulling down at his face

Shizuo took the time to study what he could see of the other’s appearance, checked for new bruises or cuts, or any other sign that might offer insight into his obviously bad mood. Izaya caught Shizuo staring barely a few seconds after he’d started. He flicked his gaze up from his phone without moving the rest of his body and granted Shizuo the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen mar the other’s features. When Shizuo didn’t drop his gaze like he probably should have, Izaya rolled his eyes and dropped his own instead, back to whatever he deemed more interesting coming from his phone.

Shizuo frowned, a little offended by the abrupt display of incivility. Though he was no stranger to Izaya’s erratic behaviour and persistent mood swings, Shizuo was hard pressed to think of any recent action that could have left him deserving of such irreverence; it was only yesterday afternoon that they’d been engaging in what Shizuo’d thought was the most tender embrace he’d had since he was a child. For Izaya to treat him like that after everything, treat him like he used to, Shizuo thought he’d have rathered Izaya slap him across the face.

Shizuo shifted his gaze back down to the surface of his wooden desk and left it there, scribbling with a pen in one corner of his notebook just so he’d have something else to focus on. The sound of the teacher’s voice echoed far back in his head; he listened to her speak without really hearing anything, watched her write in scratchy chalk over the board without really seeing anything. When Shizuo looked up from his doodling at one point to find Shinra standing before him and the rest of the class out of their seats and moving around, Shizuo knew he must have missed some vital piece of information regarding their lesson.

“What?” He asked, trying to peer over Shinra’s shoulder and catch what’d been written on the board.

“We’re doing a group task,” His friend explained, “Weren’t you listening?”

Shizuo shrugged, “Not really.”

“Well we’re supposed to form groups and make a small presentation on some distinct geographical features of one country,” He explained, tugging on Shizuo’s wrist to pull him up out of his seat. Once Shizuo was standing Shinra dropped his wrist and made for Izaya’s desk, where the other boy was still lounging like he had no intention of doing anything that didn’t involve the device in his hands.

Izaya shifted his attention up from his phone with a lazy flick of his eyes. “What?” He asked, glancing between Shizuo and Shinra with a bored look plastered over his face.

“We’re doing a group task,” Shinra repeated, this time for Izaya’s benefit. “I thought we could all be together.” He chirped, not in the slightest bit deterred by Izaya’s obvious hostility. Shinra pulled a chair over to Izaya’s desk and planted himself in it, waiting patiently until Izaya mustered the manners to slip his phone back into his pocket.

“Fine,” Izaya relented, leaning further back in his seat with his arms folded tight over his chest. “What are we doing?”

Shinra opened the notebook he’d been holding and spread it out over the corner of the desk not currently occupied by Izaya’s feet. “We need to do some research on the geographical features of a country and then present them. I was thinking we could do Russia since you already know a bit about it and can kind of speak it.”

“Whatever.” Izaya sighed, looking anywhere but where Shizuo was still standing awkwardly. His legs were getting sore but he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull out a chair and take a seat the table like Shinra had, not with Izaya exuding an aura so dark he may as well have been wearing a sign telling Shizuo to fuck right off.

“Or we could do Ireland.” Izaya’s eyebrow twitched at Shinra’s voice and Shizuo couldn’t help but feel a little better knowing it wasn’t just him Izaya seemed to be irritated by, that it wasn’t just him he seemed determined to ignore. “Celty’s told me a little bit about it; I always said that i’d take her there for our honeymoon and we could—”

“Shinra.” Izaya’s voice was cold and harsh, it cut through his friend’s words like they were softer than butter. “If I have to listen to you pine over Celty one more time I’m going to slit my fucking wrists.”

Shinra froze, pencil unmoving over his paper, and Shizuo stifled the urge to gape.

He’d never heard Izaya speak like that to Shinra; Shizuo was hard pressed to think of a time Izaya had said something so cold to him. Izaya had his gaze downcast, was staring at the curve of his nails like they needed to be cut, so he couldn’t see the way Shinra’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, the way his throat forced through a laugh so small and strained it lacked any trace of genuine amusement.

“R- right. Sorry.” He stuttered. Shinra looked back down to his book and continued writing whatever he’d stopped before. Shizuo made an effort to uncurl the fists he only just realised he’d formed at his sides. “I think we should figure out who’s going to speak for the presentation.” Shinra spoke, if now a little more subdued. He looked up to catch Izaya’s attention but Izaya was still looking down, pulling at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket like it would unravel into the most interesting story he’d ever heard. When Izaya’s attention refused to budge, Shinra turned to set his gaze on Shizuo. “What about you, Shizuo?”

Shizuo frowned and wondered why Shinra even bothered asking. He opened his mouth to grant his friend the refusal he should have been expecting, when Izaya did it for him.

“Shizu-chan can’t do the presentation,” He objected.

Shizuo closed his mouth slowly. Shinra looked back to Izaya and let confusion muddle his expression. “Why?” He asked.

Izaya finally lifted his disinterested gaze from his hands, let it lock onto Shizuo’s and hold it still for the force of his words. “Because he’s too dumb,” He drawled, mouth twisting into a smirk that didn’t reach whatever shadow had darkened his eyes. “And socially awkward. And completely illiterate.” Izaya’s smirk disappeared. He re-crossed his arms tight over his chest and levelled Shizuo with a glare like no other. “If we’re relying on his conversational skills to get us through we might as well give up now and blow our brains out.”

Shinra dropped his pencil, Shizuo could hear it roll from his desk and clatter to the ground. “Jesus Christ, Izaya.”

Shizuo didn’t speak, didn’t move; his fists were deceptively lax by his sides, his brows furrow-free. The anger was there, crackling at the surface of his skin, forming itself to insults on the back of his tongue, but Shizuo couldn’t really feel it.

He mostly just felt hurt.

Shizuo tore his gaze away from Izaya’s own and began walking towards the open door leading out of the classroom, forcibly removing himself before his body caught up with his brain and decided to take action in the form of putting his fist through the other’s head. He stepped around the doorway, walked a few paces along the outside wall, and then slumped to the ground with his back resting against someone’s closed locker door.

Shizuo caught a glimpse of someone leaving the classroom in his periphery, but he couldn’t be bothered pushing himself back up, couldn’t be bothered hiding how just miserable a few well aimed insults had made him.

Shinra came to stand before him, scuffed shoes within his direct line of sight, and then he dropped to sit at the floor with his legs crossed under his body. Shizuo looked off to the side, feeling uncomfortable with the concern glassing Shinra’s eyes. “You okay?” He asked.

Shizuo shrugged. He didn’t know what the fuck he was. He couldn’t understand why Izaya was acting the way he was after everything that’d happened; even more so, he couldn’t understand why he cared so much, why he felt the need to withdraw rather than lash out, the need to cry rather than yell. Being tugged to and fro, having his emotions stretched every which way was quickly becoming too exhausting for him to cope with.

“I can’t handle his fuckin’ mood swings,” He admitted, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the metal behind him. “One minute he acts like he hates me, the next…” Shizuo scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

Shinra hummed, “You guys have been getting along a lot better recently, and even when you weren’t I don’t think I ever heard him say something so…” Shinra paused for a moment and Shizuo opened his eyes to catch his gaze. “Morbid,” He finally settled on. “Something might be wrong.”

“Of course something’s wrong!” Shizuo bit back, harder than he’d meant to. “We need to stop talking about it and start fixing it.”

Shinra frowned. “What do you want to do? Interrogate him? We can’t do anything without Izaya telling us first and the more we try to force it out of him, the harder he’ll push back. That’s just how he is.”

“Stubborn bastard,” Shizuo mumbled under his breath.

Shinra laughed a little. “Why do you even care? You’d usually have thrown a desk at him and be done with it by now.”

Shizuo dropped a hand to fiddle with the laces on one of his shoes. “I can’t do that anymore.” He mumbled.

“Why though?” Shinra pressed, leaning forward between them. “What’s changed between you two?”

Shizuo could feel his face heating up, he ducked his gaze down in an effort to hide it. “I…” Shizuo struggled to form a believable lie, he’d been so caught up in the effort of dealing with the truth he’d forgotten he might have to offer one at some point. Shizuo closed his mouth and his eyes at once, when he opened them both again he made a grab for the truth and found it came a lot easier than a lie would have. “I… like him.”

When Shinra didn’t respond immediately, Shizuo had to fight very hard to keep his gaze locked onto his shoes; the urge try and catch what Shinra was thinking behind the screen of his glasses was strong, but his will to avoid a direct audience was apparently stronger. “Like a friend?”

Shizuo cringed. He’d been half hoping Shinra wouldn’t try to clarify, that Shizuo could leave it at that and find some comfort in his own slight ambiguity. But he’d gone too far to back down now. He had to let it out, he had to tell someone. “No,” He murmured, breathing slow through the spell of dizzy his honestly was bringing forth.

“Oh,” Shinra answered. When that was all he answered, Shizuo forced himself to lift his gaze and face whatever he could find in Shinra’s own. He hadn’t been expecting Shinra’s small smile, nor the knowing look in his eyes. “I thought so,” He revealed.

Shizuo froze, “You did?”

“Mhm,” He hummed. “I know I wear glasses Shizuo but I’m not blind. You guys haven’t exactly been very subtle. Especially Izaya.”

“Shit.” Shizuo mumbled, ducking his gaze again. When his brain caught up with the tail-end of Shinra’s words, he quickly lifted it. “Wait, what do you mean? Izaya hates me.”

Shinra shot Shizuo the flattest look he thought he’d ever seen on anyone not Izaya. “You can’t seriously believe that. He’s been practically pulling your pigtails since the day you met.”

Shizuo scoffed in disbelief, “You mean slicing me up like a fruit salad.” Even if things had changed, there was no way that before this Izaya had been harbouring anything but an undying hatred for him. “He stabbed me within seconds of meeting me.”

Shinra smiled. “You did throw the first punch,” He tried to defend Izaya and then immediately raised his hands to surrender himself, giving up the one argument they’d spent too much time on over the past year and a half. “Besides, today not withstanding, you’ve spent the last two weeks all but glued together. If he hated you as much as you seem to think he does, he wouldn’t have kept that up for as long as he has.”

Shizuo went back to fiddling with his laces nervously. He thought about mentioning the hugs, mentioning the kiss, and for some reason decided against it. “Just because he doesn’t hate me anymore doesn’t mean he likes me,” He said. “At least not like that.”

“Hmm,” Shinra hummed again. “I guess you’ll just have to ask him then.”

“What?” Shizuo looked back up at Shinra with an expression he hoped held all his horror.

“What?” Shinra fired right back. “If you can admit it to yourself, surely you can do it to him.”

Shizuo didn’t think he should have to tell Shinra how ridiculously untrue that was. However hard it’d been to admit it to himself, doing so to Izaya would be that much harder. At least he didn’t have to worry about rejection from himself, at least he could predict his own reactions — to some extent anyway. “Not while he’s like this,” Shizuo said, “The last thing he needs is something else to worry about.”

Shinra tipped his head to one side, let the light shine off his glasses. “I think the opportunity to face his own feelings is exactly what he needs.”

That may have been true, but Shizuo wasn’t sure that confessing now wouldn’t force Izaya to push him away more than he already had.

He wasn’t sure he had the guts to try.

Chapter Text

It had been difficult finding a way to get Izaya alone.

Shizuo’d returned to class ten minutes or so after his exit and sat through the rest of it in silence. He’d helped Shinra with some of the group work, but kept his head down and his opinions to himself so as to avoid provoking Izaya into another outburst. But Izaya’d sat just as quiet as Shizuo — if not more so, his attention constantly fixated on either his phone or the work in front of him. He hadn’t apologised for insulting Shizuo’s intelligence, but he also hadn’t done it again.

When the bell for the end of class rang, Izaya jumped up out of his seat and picked up his bag so quickly, by the time Shizuo looked up from his work at the sound, Izaya was already gone. He hurried to pack his things into his own bag and make for the door, rolling his eyes at Shinra’s encouraging thumbs up on the way out.

Izaya wasn’t heading towards the roof where they usually ate, Shizuo could see him walking further into the building, probably headed for the library. He knew better than to call out his name or demand he stopped moving — that’d probably only make him move faster. Shizuo pushed his way through the sudden flux of students spilling out of their classrooms and walked as quickly as he could without being chastised for running. When he finally caught up to Izaya, Shizuo reached out to still the other’s forward movement with a hand at his shoulder.

Izaya’s arm shot out before he’d even turned to face him, his clenched fist headed for Shizuo’s cheek in a burst of speed so sudden it couldn’t have been anything more calculated than instinct. Shizuo caught Izaya’s wrist before it could come close to his face. He expected Izaya to deflate at least a little once he’d turned and caught sight of who’d stopped him, but Izaya just tensed further, his angry gaze set on Shizuo like his very touch was feeding the fire inside him.

Shizuo kept his face stern, his mouth flat. “We need to talk,” He said, loosening his grip on Izaya’s wrist and shoulder. Izaya pulled them both free with a sharp jerk of his body.

“Whatever,” He answered. Izaya turned away from Shizuo to face where he’d been walking but kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, apparently awaiting Shizuo’s lead before moving again. Shizuo stepped around Izaya and headed further towards the back exit of the school building, a little surprised at Izaya’s immediate obedience, even if it was very reluctant. He’d honestly been thinking he would have to drag Izaya away from an audience by the back of his hair; he was definitely relieved that hadn’t been the case.

Shizuo reached the door leading out to the back of the school — where the sports field was — and looked behind himself to make sure Izaya was still following. Satisfied he wasn’t going to make a run for it as soon as his hands were busy, Shizuo pulled on the door and let it swing inside. He held it open before stepping through himself, gesturing with his gaze for Izaya to leave the building first. Izaya moved past him with a sour look on his face and as soon as he was through it, Shizuo followed him out of the building and let the door swing shut.

The air was cold outside, the coldest it’d been for a few days now. It meant that the grassy sports field and benches lining it were empty, everyone else having the mind to eat inside their classrooms. Shizuo moved further around the side of the school building, where they’d be hidden if someone happened to walk outside. He dropped his bag to the ground and leant his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “We need to talk.”

Izaya gripped the strap of his school bag with one hand and kept the other hanging by his side. “You already said that,” He sneered. “Make it quick will you? I have places I’d rather be than hanging out with you.”

Shizuo kept his face blank at the bite in the other’s voice, but it was hard. Harder still to speak like he didn’t care, like Izaya’s words didn’t affect him just as much as they always had. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” Izaya huffed the word with a laugh completely lacking in amusement. “Just because I don’t want to spend time with you means there’s something wrong?” Izaya smiled coldly, “That’s a little narcissistic Shizu-chan.”

What the fuck. Shizuo was trying to be patient, trying to be calm. He’d promised Shinra he wouldn’t push, but Shizuo was so close to pinning Izaya down by the back of his neck and demanding explanations that he thought he must have been at least a little delusional when he’d agreed to such a thing. “Something’s wrong because you’re being more of an asshole than usual. You obviously have a problem with me so hurry up and spit it out before I get pissed.” Shizuo didn’t mean to speak like he already was but god if it wasn’t hard to have a conversation with Izaya when he was being intentionally difficult.

“The only problem I have is you following me around all the time.” Izaya’s frown dug itself deeper into his face, his brows furrowed further. When he spoke, his words sounded bitter. “If I’m such an asshole you shouldn’t have any problem leaving me alone.”

Shizuo sighed softly and let some of his anger deflate with it. He was just so goddamn frustrated. “That’s not what I meant,” He tried to backtrack. “I just mean if there’s something I said or—” Shizuo lowered his eyes to look down at the ground, holding Izaya’s gaze was already becoming a little much. “Something I did to upset you, I’d want you to tell me so I could fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Izaya argued, “Isn’t this how we’re supposed to be? How we’ve always been?”

Shizuo shook his head. “No, it’s not. Things are different now. I know you’re dealing with some shit but—”

“YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT I’M DEALING WITH!”

Shizuo flinched at the sound of Izaya’s shouting, he lifted his wide eyed gaze back up to face the other boy’s harsh breathing and furious expression. No, he thought to himself. I really don’t. Shizuo couldn’t read minds — he knew he was less than observant at the best of times, completely oblivious at the worst — but even he could tell when someone was hurting; when Shizuo looked at Izaya he saw someone in pain and it made his chest feel tighter than it ever had when he was angry.

“Maybe I would if you told me,” He pressed, pushing away from the wall and winding both hands into his own hair. “You can’t keep bottling everything inside ‘cause you just do this.”

“What?” Izaya snarled, brows drawn low, gaze storm-cloud dark.

"Explode!" Shizuo yelled, and then dropped his hands from his hair else he pull any of it out. “And act like a fucking idiot."

Izaya huffed a laugh, and then another, the grating sound building in intensity until he was doubled over with it. When he caught his breath and moved to stand up straight, Shizuo watched him wipe hysterical tears from his eyes. “This is so funny.” Izaya giggled again. “Silly Shizu-chan thinks this is because I’m upset, but this is who I am, who I’ve always been.” Izaya’s eyes were still glassy but when he stepped forward and closer to Shizuo, they cleared enough to look cold. His brittle smile dropped into another frown. “Everything before this is what’s been fake.”

Shizuo felt like screaming. How far was the idiot willing to go? Who the fuck did he think he was fooling? There was no way Izaya was that good of an actor, no way he’d faked every moment they’d shared over the last two weeks, no way Shizuo had imagined every emotion he’d seen play across the other’s face, ‘cause if that was true…

Fuck.

“You know that’s not true.” Shizuo wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince anymore. “You’ve changed, we both have. Things are different now because—”

“Because what?” Izaya cut him off before he could finish. “Because I kissed you?”

Shizuo froze; his breath still in his lungs, his words stuck in his throat. Because maybe if he stopped moving, time would too. He didn’t want to hear what Izaya was going to say next, he couldn’t bear the thought of it, but no one ever made things easy for him and the universe was never on his side.

“Give me a break,” Izaya sneered. “It was just a joke.”

No

“I thought it’d freak you out but if I’d known you were going to take it so seriously I would never have done it.”

Stop

“What?” Izaya stepped forward again, let his scowl twist onto a smirk. “You didn’t think I actually gave a shit about you, did you?”

Shizuo closed his eyes to the force of Izaya’s words. He wasn’t sure what expression he had pulling at his face, could barely feel enough of his body to move it, but it must have been ample an answer because when Izaya spoke again, the words were patronising. “That’s precious.” He drawled. Shizuo opened his eyes to see Izaya had stopped a metre or so away. “It was all a joke. Every second of it.”

Shizuo felt sick.

Somewhere deep inside himself, past the rage and the frustration and the disappointment, all he could feel was sick. He had to close his eyes against the abrupt spell of nausea, suddenly afraid of doubling over and emptying his stomach onto the ground. Shizuo reached for something else to push it away, but all he could close his hands on was anger; angry at Izaya for fooling him, angry at himself for believing it. The rage hurt almost as much as the churning in his stomach but it was too late for him to let it go.

Shizuo opened his eyes and — to his great horror — found they were starting to burn. Izaya wasn’t frowning anymore, his brows were still furrowed but his mouth had gone soft, like whatever he was seeing in Shizuo’s face had surprised him enough to drop his mask — if it had been a mask. Even if Izaya was still lying, still trying to push him away for fuck if he knew why, Shizuo was so goddamn frustrated with the situation, it was a miracle he hadn’t cried angry tears before now.

Izaya had gone too far, been too cruel, and half of Shizuo was still struggling to believe it at all.

As Shizuo's right fist clenched of it’s own accord, Izaya looked down to track the motion, taking a few steps to stumble away from it — but when Shizuo brought it back and up, he had no intention of hurting anyone but himself. He turned on his heel and, with everything ounce of strength in his body, threw his closed fist at the concrete wall making up the side of the school building.

Chapter Text

Izaya felt like he was going to pass out.

He felt sick and dizzy and every word spilling out from his mouth was making it harder to breathe, was making it worse.

But he couldn’t stop now, his insults were shooting like bullets and his aim was unparalleled. He watched Shizuo falter and doubt and then crumble under the weight of his lies, and it hurt him more than anything ever had in his entire life. A part of himself he could hear pleading him to stop, to give up and just let go of whatever little bit of control he thought he was still maintaining by doing this. As soon as Izaya had spoken his final words, his killing blow, he wished he could reach out and take them back. He’d thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse in his life, that nothing could trump the bad cards he’d been dealt but, as Shizuo opened his eyes, glassy and wet, Izaya knew he’d been wrong; this was worse, nothing Shirou’d ever done had made him feel this bad.

I really am my own worst enemy, aren’t I?

Izaya watched Shizuo’s fist clench at his side and couldn’t help but feel relief in the face of his familiar anger; anything was better than hurt. Izaya still stumbled a step or so away, not quite willing to let his face bear the brunt of Shizuo’s fury even if he knew he deserved it. Shizuo drew his hand back for a punch, but when he threw it forward it was with a twist of his body so his fist was headed for the wall beside him instead of Izaya’s face.

The side of the building exploded in a burst of dust and crumbled concrete, the power in Shizuo’s punch all but forcing a crater into the wall. Izaya stumbled back another step at the sound of it, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the violent spray of shrapnel. As soon as the concrete gave way under Shizuo's fist, he wound his arm back for another powerful punch; his knuckles met the wall once more and a second blast of broken building came with it.

Izaya watched Shizuo demolish the side of the building with his single bare hand, watched him reel it back and drive it forward again and again, slabs of concrete chipping away with every angry touch. He thought about how scared he’d been when his father had done the same thing last night, when he’d put his fist through the wall of their house in a fit of fury not nearly as impressive as Shizuo’s. He wasn’t scared now, never had been when it came to Shizuo. Izaya didn’t think he’d ever seen someone look so fucking beautiful.

But he could see the blood starting to splatter over the ground with every pull of Shizuo’s fist, could see the damage he was doing to the wall and to his body; if Izaya let him keep going, there’d be nothing left of either.

“Shizu-chan!” Izaya let his school bag slip from his shoulder and drop to the ground. “Shizuo!” He yelled again, striding forward to cover the distance he’d left between them, not that he thought Shizuo could see anything through the hot, angry tears sliding down the sides of his face.

“SHIZUO!” Izaya reached out to close his hand around Shizuo’s closest shoulder and pull the other away from the building by force. Shizuo immediately used his free hand to shove him away, hard, and Izaya hit the ground with a sharp huff of air, landing on his arm and tumbling a few metres along the pavement.

The repetitive crunch of their school building falling to pieces stopped, and Izaya pushed himself up so he could catch Shizuo turning away from his destruction to stare at Izaya instead. Izaya stared right back, watching Shizuo’s wide eyes take in where he’d pushed Izaya to the ground, before slowly turning to the face the crater sized hole in the wall he’d made with his fist, and then finally dropping to stare at the blood pouring out of his open knuckles, at the red running down the back of his hand to fall and splash in small puddles over the ground.

Shizuo turned away from the mess he’d made of the wall and dropped to the ground, seated in the product of his own blind fury and slumped over like a wilting flower.

Izaya tried to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him when he fell, only pushing himself to his knees and then up to his feet once he’d found fresh air for his lungs. Shizuo had his eyes closed and his injured hand resting atop one upraised knee, blood dripping slow from his fingers like a broken tap. Izaya took a careful step forward, and when Shizuo barely moved at the action, he took another, making his slow way over to where Shizuo was sitting so he could lower himself down to sit beside him.

Shizuo looked exhausted. Tears had dried to shiny tracks on his cheeks and dust clung to the damp length of his lashes. He was still breathing hard, but Izaya could see the rise and fall of his chest slowing with every second he stayed still. Izaya looked at Shizuo’s hand, and then shifted his gaze to look at the healing marks on his own, the scars a close match if he’d had as much power to offer in punching the tree as Shizuo had in punching the wall.

God he was so done. With everything. What was the point in keeping up pretences, what had been his reason for fighting back in the first place? Just to prove he could? Just to feel like he wasn’t as weak as Shirou always made him feel?

Seemed pretty fucking stupid now, with Shizuo looking more bloody and defeated from the cut of Izaya’s words than he ever had with one of his knives.

If we’re going to be miserable, we may as well be miserable together…

Izaya wondered how he was even supposed to go about apologising, if Shizuo would even listen to him if he tried. He took a shaky breath and glared down at his shoes, swallowed whatever pride he thought he had left and gave himself up. “I’m… sorry,” He breathed, and then looked back up from his feet to watch Shizuo open his eyes; they were red-rimmed and bloodshot but he let them lock onto Izaya’s own anyway. “You were right, I was lying.”

Other than letting his eyes slowly open, Shizuo showed no signs of having heard Izaya’s apology. His face was blank, his eyes vacant, and Izaya knew he was going to have to do better than that. “I wasn’t faking it,” He continued, “I do—” Izaya cut himself off and lowered his gaze back to the ground; if he was going to do this, he couldn’t do it with Shizuo looking at him like that. “Care about you.” He finished, more of a murmur than anything else. When Shizuo’s lack of a reply stretched on, and Izaya’s anxiety began to peak, he looked back up again and forced himself to hold the other’s stare.

Shizuo’s eyes held more clarity now, his brows were furrowed and his mouth was soft. He just watched for a moment, stared at Izaya like he was trying to stare through him, trying to make sense of what he was saying after what he’d already said. “Why?” He finally asked, the word raspy on the back of his throat.

“Why what?” Izaya pressed.

Shizuo narrowed his eyes. “Why did you lie.”

Izaya dropped his gaze to his hands and tried to rub away the dust covering the backs of them. “I thought it would be easier than telling the truth,” He said, giving up and letting his hands hang limp in his lap again. “I was already angry and taking it out on you.” Izaya forced himself to lift his gaze and meet Shizuo’s own. “Like you said, I was being an asshole.” He smiled sadly, and then it was Shizuo’s turn to look away.

“Yeah,” He sniffled, “You were.”

Shizuo lifted his uninjured hand to scrub at his eyes and his nose, only proceeding to further smudge the dust on his face. Izaya didn’t say anything about it, just sat in silence and watched the other boy pull himself together.

“Why did you kiss me?” Shizuo eventually asked, facing out towards the empty sports field and its cold, frosty grass.

Even though he wasn’t being watched, Izaya still shrugged. “Because I wanted to,” He admitted. “I felt like doing it, so then I did.”

Shizuo huffed a small laugh. When he turned to meet Izaya, his eyes were warmer than they’d been before. “That sounds like something I’d say.”

Izaya’s lips quirked, “Guess you must be rubbing off on me then,” He teased, tilting his shoulder to bump it against Shizuo’s.

Shizuo laughed again, his smile pulled wide enough to bare some of his teeth, to crinkle the skin around the corners of his eyes, and Izaya’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Yeah, I guess so.” He agreed, and then let his smile slip away, something a little more uncertain coming to replace it. “I care about you too, you know.”

Izaya ducked his head to hide the heat he could feel pooling at his cheeks. “I know.”

But he had to know for sure. He needed to clarify this hadn’t all been a big misunderstanding on his end, that Shizuo wasn’t just being too friendly and Izaya too wishful. Because it was hard enough coming to terms with it himself, if he found out now he had no hope, that his feelings were only one sided, well….

I’ll burn that bridge once I get to it…

Izaya swallowed. “Just to be certain, does Shizu-chan care about me like his friends, or like the girls at school?” Izaya couldn’t quite bring himself to fully lift his head from where he’d ducked it down beforehand, so he made do with looking up through his lashes and hair at Shizuo’s face.

Shizuo ran a nervous hand over the back of his own neck, his face began to redden where it wasn’t covered in dust. “I don’t really care about any of the girls at school,” He said, averting his gaze. “But I like you different to the way I like Shinra and Kadota.” Shizuo’s voice was gruff, he turned his head so he was frowning at the ground. “More than a friend.”

Izaya guessed that was good enough, or as good as he was going to get under the circumstances. He couldn’t be too picky when it came to Shizuo’s honestly after just displaying the most extreme lack of it he’d probably ever demonstrated.

“If you’re fucking with me, I’ll kill you.” Izaya quickly blurted, hoping the frown on his face and the sharp edge in his eyes wasn’t undermined by the pink still tinting his cheeks. Shizuo turned back to face him, eyes blown wide on surprise, and then those eyes softened, and one side of his mouth pulled up into a smile.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” He asked.

Izaya let some of the tension holding his body taught bleed out with his sigh. The knowledge that he hadn’t ruined whatever fragile thing they’d been growing between them beyond repair was enough to let his body relax more than it had all day.

Chapter Text

"So, what now?"

Izaya looked around at the mess they’d made for themselves: the half demolished wall and surrounding rubble, the dust clinging to Shizuo’s face and hair, the slow trickle of blood from his hand.

Shizuo answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “Dunno, guess we should probably go on a date or something.”

Izaya bit the edge of his lip to keep from smiling. He wasn’t going to clarify that he’d been talking about the chunks of concrete Shizuo had pulverised with such ease that if it wasn’t for the state of his knuckles or the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, someone might’ve thought they’d been made with meringue. “Yeah, I guess so,” He said instead. And then again, before Shizuo had a chance to respond, “Where will you take me?”

Shizuo huffed, but when Izaya turned to look at the blonde, his mouth was tight like he was fighting away the stretch of a smile. “What? why do I have to organise it?”

Izaya let his own lips spread, abandoning the dig of his teeth for a blatant show of amusement instead. “Because it was your idea,” He reasoned. “It’s only fair you’re the one to take me out.”

“Fine.” Shizuo moved his foot to kick some of the ruined wall away from him. “Do you want to do something after school tomorrow?”

Izaya smiled at Shizuo’s dust covered profile and waited until the other boy looked up from his shoes to answer. “Sure."

Shizuo glanced away again and sighed. “Guess this all looks pretty stupid now, huh?” He said, looking around at the havoc he’d wrought. Izaya fought the urge to tell him it had always been a stupid thing to do — he was in no place to pass judgement when the whole thing had been more than half his fault. “Can’t believe I broke the building.” Shizuo brought his cleaner hand up to cover his face. “Hope I didn’t scare anyone inside.”

Izaya couldn’t believe they’d been left alone for so long, he’d thought that surely by now someone would have come to investigate earthquake Heiwajima. He’d spent the last few minutes half expecting their school principal to burst through the back door and demand an explanation. “I’ll tell them it was my fault,” Izaya spoke down to his clasped hands, “When they ask what happened.”

“No you won’t.” Izaya could hear the frown in Shizuo’s voice. “I don’t think even you could convince anyone this was your doing. Only I’m fucked up enough to punch through concrete.”

Izaya dug his nails into the back of his hands, the self-loathing evident in Shizuo’s words only making him feel worse. “I provoked you into doing it,” He argued. “They’ll believe that at least.”

“That’s not really a good enough excuse anymore.” Shizuo dropped the hand covering his face back to his lap. “‘Sides, there’s no point in both of us getting in trouble.”

Izaya didn’t respond. He guessed that was true but it still left a bad taste in his mouth and an even worse feeling in his stomach. “You should probably go to the infirmary and fix that,” Izaya said, pointedly staring down at Shizuo’s right arm lying limp in his lap. His knuckles had stopped bleeding, most of the red having dried along the back of his hand and down his fingers, but it was still very much torn to pieces and bad enough to have any normal person howling in pain.

“Yeah, guess so.”

Izaya pushed himself up from the seat he’d made of the ground and walked back across the pavement to pick up the bag he’d dropped beforehand. By the time he had it slung over his shoulder, Shizuo was standing and moving to retrieve his own school satchel covered in dust. Izaya made for the back door of the school, stepping past the scattered remains of Shizuo’s destruction. Once he reached it he pushed the door inwards and walked his way inside, listening to the soft scuff of Shizuo’s steps catch up to him.

The halls were empty; end of morning break must have come about sometime while they were outside, else the damage Shizuo’d wrought really had been deemed a school emergency and their classmates were now hiding hunched under their desks. Shizuo walked past closed classroom doors with his hand hanging bloody and limp by his side until they reached the infirmary. Izaya watched him push on the door and step inside without knocking, before quietly trailing after him. The nurse was already up out of the seat at her desk, she’d been gathering a small pile of bandages and gauze to place inside the yellow kidney dish sitting over the counter and Izaya watched her continue to do so even after he’d let the door swing shut behind him.

“I’ve been expecting you boys,” She sighed, “Go take a seat on the bed.” She gestured behind her without looking away from what she was doing.

Shizuo shuffled forward to sit at the edge of the bed, Izaya cringed when the other’s dust covered pants came into contact with the clean white sheets drawn over it but took a seat beside him all the same. Once the nurse finally finished gathering what she thought she needed, Izaya watched her turn and almost drop the supplies upon catching sight of Shizuo’s hand. “Oh dear,” She blurted, quickly turning back around to pull a few extra things from the cupboard over her head. When she came to sit before the bed on a small stool, she settled the over piled dish down next to Shizuo and handed Izaya a damp cloth she’d run under warm water. “Clean his face,” She ordered.

“I can do it myself,” Shizuo insisted, reaching out to take the cloth from Izaya’s hands. The nurse slapped his uninjured hand away before it could get close.

“You can be quiet and sit still,” She said, taking an alcohol soaked cotton ball and dragging it across the blood dried to Shizuo’s hand. Shizuo reluctantly obeyed.

When Izaya finished folding the cloth he held it out expectantly, waiting for Shizuo to turn his head up so he could have better access to cleaning it. Shizuo complied after a moment, twisting to face Izaya without moving the rest of his body. Izaya reached out and began wiping the wet cloth down the side of Shizuo’s face, over the dried trails of tears and specks of concrete dust. Every so often he’d be close enough to feel Shizuo’s jaw tense under the cloth, when the cotton ball cleaning his hand ran over or came close to the open skin on his knuckles. Izaya brought his second hand out to run his fingers through the hair on Shizuo’s forehead and hold it back for him to finish cleaning there. He folded the cloth over to a clean side and took one last swipe down the other’s nose before dropping his hair and pulling away from his face.

The nurse had finished treating Shizuo’s hand, was now in the process of winding a bandage from the base of his fingers down to his wrist. After she’d tucked the edge of the white strip in under itself, she plucked the dirtied cloth from Izaya’s lap and stood to take what remained of her supplies back to the counter and cupboards. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you boys really will be the death of each other.” She spoke into one of the topmost supply cabinets before coming back down from her tippy toes and closing it shut. “The Principal told me to bring him here once I’d patched you up, so wait here while I go get him.

Izaya watched the nurse leave the room without looking back, the door opening and swinging closed behind her with a click. When he turned to face Shizuo, the other boy was fiddling with the bandage wrapped over his hand. “You’ll unravel it if you keep touching it,” He warned him. Shizuo dropped his hand back to his lap. “Don’t be so nervous, you’ve done worse and gotten away with it.”

Shizuo looked up to fix a glare on him. “No, I haven’t,” He argued. “You usually get away with stuff, I’m the one that always gets caught.”

“Shizu-chan needs to learn to run faster,” He joked. Shizuo huffed a small laugh.

“Don’t know if that’s gonna help me this time.”

Izaya hummed, “Maybe not.” He had his mouth open to speak again, to offer to bear the blame of the situation like he had before, but the words barely had the chance to form themselves on his tongue before the door to the infirmary was swinging open for the nurse to step through. The school principal and one of Shizuo’s teachers followed in her wake, moving past the open door and filing into the room. He could all but feel Shizuo tense beside him.

The Principal stepped up close to the bed. “Heiwajima-san,” He greeted, and then turned to face Izaya. “Orihara-san, you can go back to class.”

Izaya turned to glance at Shizuo, not quite ready to be so easily dismissed from the situation, but Shizuo gave a slight nod of his approval, silently urging Izaya to leave. Izaya pushed himself from the bed and landed on his feet. He grabbed his bag and left the room without looking back at Shizuo or the teachers either one. Only once he was out in the empty hallway did he allow himself to take a full breath, to sigh relief at being alone for the first time in what felt like forever but had really only been a matter of hours.

The door to his classroom was still open, Izaya could hear the chorus of voices coming from inside. He stepped around the doorframe and paused at the entry as all the voices in the room died down to quiet. He glanced over the stares of his fellow classmates and teacher before ducking his head down to plough right past them on his way back to his desk. The stares dispersed, students refocused their attention elsewhere, and then the noisy chatter he’d heard while walking in returned full force.

“Izaya!” Izaya dropped his bag to the ground but before he could claim his seat, something collided with his turned back and wrapped arms around his middle. “You’re alive!”

Izaya stayed still in Shinra’s grip, not moving around to return the embrace or shake it of either one. “Of course I am,” He said, trying to twist his neck to look over his shoulder with an eyebrow already risen. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Shinra released his hold on Izaya’s waist so he could better turn around and face his friend. “When I heard those horrible sounds I could only assume the worst,” He cried, “That you’d rejected Shizuo and he’d killed you!”

Izaya laughed. Shinra didn’t need to know that that hadn’t been far from the truth, that maybe it would have been if Shizuo knew how to direct his anger where it was deserved instead of turning it in on himself. “No he jus—” Izaya faltered, his brain only just catching up with the assumed knowledge in Shinra’s words. “Wait,” He said, “You knew?”

Shinra’s soft-mouthed concern gave way to a glare. “Why does everyone seem to think I’m as blind as I am brunette,” He complained, “It’s very insulting.” Shinra’s brows furrowed further, his lips drew into a pout. “Though I am a bit hurt that Shizuo confessed to me before you did, we’re supposed to be best friends!”

Izaya turned his back on Shinra’s hurt to hide whatever expression he might have been wearing in answer to the flutter of his stomach. “Well, I wasn’t planning on confessing to anyone.” He said, “Ever.” Izaya dropped himself into his chair and flinched as Shinra came forward to slap his hands down onto the surface of Izaya’s desk.

“So you admit it then,” His eyes were glowing bright behind his glasses, “Does that mean you’re dating now?”

Izaya pressed his lips closed and settled the weight of his glower over Shinra in front of him. “That’s none of your business,” He answered. Shinra’s lips just spread the wider.

“That’s fine, I’ll just ask Shizuo later.”

Shinra pushed back from the desk and slowly stepped around Izaya’s side, coming to stand behind his chair and tower his shadow over Izaya’s own seated form. Izaya felt a hand drop to rest in his hair and ruffle through the strands. “Even though it’s none of my business, I want you to know I’m happy for you.” Shinra’s words were as soft as the touch running through the dark of his hair. “I’d rather you be dating than fighting.”

Izaya held himself silent for a moment, for two, and then he let his breath go with a sigh. “We’ll probably still fight,” He murmured, closing his eyes to the gentle attention. If Shinra caught on to the admission Izaya’d made with the statement, he didn’t say anything about it.

“I don’t doubt it, but be careful yeah? I think Shizuo’s more sensitive than he looks.”

Izaya knew that, he’d found out first hand just how sensitive Shizuo could be, but he also didn’t think that was something Shinra needed to be told. “I’ll probably mess it up.” Izaya mumbled the words under his breath, so quiet he’d half expected them to go unheard.

Shinra tucked a strand of Izaya’s hair behind his ear and then dropped his hands to the other’s shoulders instead. “Probably,” he agreed, and Izaya frowned at the reassurance he wasn’t getting. “But I think whatever happens you can fix it too.”

That may have been true, but Izaya wasn’t going to push his luck. He’d already come very close to destroying whatever he and Shizuo had between them before he’d really given it a chance to start, and he wasn’t going to count on the off chance that Shizuo would be as forgiving or tolerant a second time around. Shinra dropped into his own chair left by Izaya’s desk from their last class and sighed, “I wish I had advice to give you but with Celty constantly rejecting my advances, i’m really no more experienced in relationships than you are.”

Izaya wasn’t used to not knowing something. If not his extensive knowledge of humans and the world at large, then his ability to locate any information and apply it was something he prided himself on; the idea that there was something he wouldn’t even know how to go about beginning a search for left a bitter taste in his mouth. Izaya was still quietly processing the possible online sources he could use to gain assistance when Shizuo stepped around the open doorway and into the classroom.

Like they’d done upon Izaya’s arrival, everyone in the classroom paused to turn and stare silent at Shizuo’s appearance, only to glance away and continue their activities or conversations with a lot more speed and determination than they’d offered Izaya. Shizuo trudged inside with his head low. He was still wearing his uniform, Izaya thought he’d have shed the filthy weight of it by now and replaced it with his sport shorts and shirt instead. Shizuo dragged a nearby chair that wasn’t his own to pull it up alongside their seats at Izaya’s desk and fall into it.

“Wow, you look terrible!” Shinra chirped.

Shizuo rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

The brunette just smiled. “Well, considering I thought Izaya was going to be the one mangled and in bandages…” Shinra gestured down to Shizuo’s wrapped fist. “Did you really cause all that ruckus with your bare hand?”

Shizuo shrugged with barely a lift of his shoulders, like he was too exhausted to move the heavy weight of them more than a millimetre up from his body. “I guess so.”

“What did the principal say?” Izaya asked, cutting of any further comments from Shinra that he was sure would only aid in the other’s self deprecating spiral. “Are you getting in trouble?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo sighed again, “Indefinite detention starting next week, and I’m suspended tomorrow. They’re gonna call my parents to talk about the price of repairing damages.” Shizuo scrubbed his hand over his face. “There goes my allowance for the next few months,” He mumbled.

“Well that’s not too bad,” Shinra said, “It sounded like you did a lot of damage so I’m surprised you’re not suspended forever.”

Shizuo slumped further back in his chair, “They probably know how much I’m already struggling,” He said, “My grades couldn’t take it if I had that much time off.”

“Mm, that’s true,” Shinra agreed without hesitation.

As Shizuo and Shinra both fell quiet, Izaya slumped further into his seat, struggling to keep the heavy weight of his eyelids from slipping shut every few seconds. He very nearly jerked back to reality when the bell for next period blared through the speakers lining the hall. “Where are we going?” He asked when Shinra stood from his chair to throw his school bag over his shoulder.

“We have electives so I’m going to the science room for for physiology,” He answered, “You two have music.”

Izaya sighed, with any hope he’d be able to lock himself inside one of the sound proof rooms and steal a quick nap; he really didn’t feel like working today. Izaya collected his things and followed Shizuo out of the classroom, returning Shinra’s wave as they forked off into different directions down the hall. The music room was mostly quiet when they arrived, only a few students were already seated and waiting in spots over the carpeted floor, and the teacher at the front of the room had her head ducked over a laptop. Izaya let his bag drop carelessly just inside the door and took a seat on the ground with his legs crossed under him, waiting with Shizuo slumped beside him for the rest of their class to file into the room and the teacher to grant them her attention.

“Alright,” She started once enough people had entered and seated themselves. “For the whole of the class you’re going to be working on your songs in groups, as that will be due soon, but before I send you off I want to offer some advice.” She closed the lid on her laptop and pushed it away from the edge of her desk. “I know a lot of you are struggling to find inspiration for your music and so I want to say this: look at your life, look at the experiences and interactions that have changed your life and have had enough of an emotional impact on you that you can drawn upon them for musical or lyrical inspiration.” The teacher raised a small book up from her desk and showed it to the class. “It could happen at any moment so I suggest carrying some sort of notebook with you whenever you’re out, so when it does hit you, you’ll be ready to record it.” The teacher finished speaking and Izaya listened to the class murmur their agreement. Only after enough answering nods did she wave them off to continue whatever they’d been doing last week.

Izaya watched Shizuo push himself up from the ground, pull a guitar from the wall, and immediately make for one of the sound proof rooms situated far back in the classroom, glaring off any students walking in the same direction. Izaya hurried to stand and follow after Shizuo, catching the open weight of the door before stepping into the room and letting it fall shut behind him. Shizuo took a seat on the ground instead of the stools they’d used last time they were here, leaning his back against the wall and resting the guitar in his lap.

“Aren’t you going to go get a guitar?” He asked when Izaya moved closer to slide down the wall beside Shizuo and take a seat on the carpet.

“No,” He sighed, “Too tired, I’ll just listen to you play.” It wasn’t exactly fair, out of the two of them Shizuo had expended far more physical and emotional energy, but the blonde huffed a laugh without pressing the matter so Izaya let himself sag against the wall and his shoulder press to Shizuo’s own.

Shizuo began to pluck at the strings on the guitar, moving between chords with a grace that made it look as effortless as it was unconscious. Izaya watched him grimace every time he moved the fingers on his bandaged hand a little too quickly, but the pain never seemed to peak enough for him to stop playing. Izaya felt himself getting drowsy, the lulling melody Shizuo had fallen into was putting him to sleep quicker than the pills he’d at one point been taking. “That sounds nice,” He murmured under his breath, if just to force himself to cling to consciousness for a little while longer.

“Yeah,” Shizuo mumbled, and then suddenly stopped playing. “I should probably write it down in case I forget.” Shizuo looked around the room in what Izaya could only assume was a search for something to write on. “Do you have any paper?” He asked, glancing at Izaya next to him.

Izaya shook his head. “Guess you should have listened to the teacher about carrying a notebook everywhere with you.”

Shizuo scoffed, “That was only like five minutes ago.” There was a jar of pens sitting on the lone table nearby; Shizuo reached out to grab the edge of it and tip it down towards himself. The jar slid along the slippery surface and Shizuo caught it with his other hand. He let go of the table so he could pluck a pen from the jar instead, settling back against the wall and pushing the sleeve of his jacket and shirt up his left arm. Izaya watched him struggle to grip the pen without pulling at the skin under his bandages for longer than he probably should have, before reaching out to take it from him instead.

“Give me your arm,” He said, and Shizuo only hesitated for a second before letting his wrist fall into Izaya’s lap. “What do you want me to write?” He asked, using one hand to hold Shizuo’s sleeve up away from his arm and the other to bring the point of the pen down to the soft skin on the inside of Shizuo’s wrist.

“Write E, B, G, D, A, and E in a column down here,” He said, using a finger to point to the width of his arm instead of the length. “And then draw a dotted line coming out of each letter, all the way up to here.” Shizuo trailed a finger up to where his skin disappeared behind the sleeve of his jacket, just below his elbow. “It’s a TAB,” He explained, apparently sensing Izaya’s curiosity without him having to ask. “Each letter and line represents a string, and numbers on the strings represent the frets on the guitar. The first numbers are 5,6,5 and 7. Write them starting from the top E string down to D, one number on each line and cascading.”

Izaya did as he was told, inking the numbers into Shizuo’s skin. He was a little surprised at the blonde’s extensive knowledge; if only he applied this kind of motivation to learn to maths or to English, then maybe he’d find himself with better grades and in higher classes.

“Now write the same thing again next to it but this time with the numbers 5, 6, 7, 7 and then 5, 5, 5, 7,” Shizuo said, “And then one more with 5, 5, 5, 5. And make sure to write a little 2x under each so I know to play them twice.” Izaya finished writing and pulled the pen back. Shizuo drew his hand away from Izaya’s lap and settled it over the strings of the guitar instead. “Thanks,” He murmured.

“That’s okay,” Izaya answered, tipping in sideways to press hard against Shizuo’s upper arm and rest his head at the other’s shoulder. “Now keep playing so I can go to sleep.”

Shizuo laughed at the order but he heeded Izaya’s demands anyway, continuing the soft melody he’d been playing while Izaya closed his eyes. Sound drifted in and out as he slipped further away from reality, but before he’d truly left consciousness, Izaya swore he heard the sound of Shizuo humming along to the music he was playing, and let it lull him into sleep.

…………………………………………………………………………

When Izaya woke, it was to the feel of fingers running through his hair, a soft touch dragging between the strands to push them back from his face. At first he thought of his mother and the way she used to pat him to sleep when he was young, after waking from the same nightmares that often tortured him now. Izaya opened his eyes to a pale blue shoulder, when he breathed in the smell was familiar but it wasn’t his mother’s. The hand drew back from his hair and Izaya raised his head to find Shizuo staring down at him, lashes low and cheeks tinted red.

“The bell just went,” He said, offering explanation for why he’d woken Izaya from the best sleep he’d had all week — casting the uncomfortable crick in his neck aside. Izaya brought a hand up to rub at the back of it.

“Okay,” He answered, honestly surprised he’d managed to sleep most of the class away. Izaya pushed himself up from the floor and stretched his arms over his head, only turning to leave through the door once Shizuo had gotten to his feet. The music room was mostly empty when they walked outside, with only a few stragglers packing away instruments and making conversation with the teacher. It meant that the bell must have gone at least a few minutes before Shizuo had finally roused him from sleep and Izaya felt his face heat at the thought, that Shizuo had been watching him while he was unable to control what the other would see; something he hadn’t really thought about when he’d let himself drift off against the other’s shoulder.

Izaya tried to push the slight sense of vulnerability aside and power through lunch which his friends — thankfully void of any topic surrounding what had happened earlier in the day — and then his history class with Shinra alone. By the time his last class had finished, Izaya was horrified to find that even an hour and a half without Shizuo was enough to have him striding down the hallway towards the front of the school with more speed than usual and a flippant wave to Shinra that he’d message the other boy later.

Shizuo was waiting outside the school building, at the bottom of the stairs like Izaya knew he would be. He looked up from the ground as Izaya descended the steps at a much more leisurely pace than what he’d had to offer inside. “Hey,” The other boy greeted as Izaya dropped down from the last step. “How was your class?”

Izaya shrugged. “Boring,” He answered, and then turned to face Shizuo as they both fell into step beside each other and made for the open school gate. “What about yours?”

“Also boring,” Shizuo spoke without looking up from his shoes moving over the pavement. “Oh,” He said soon after, like he’d just remembered something important. “Do you have to pick up your sisters from school?”

Izaya shook his head. “Nope, they’re staying out of the city with my aunt for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh.” Shizuo fell quiet for a moment and Izaya turned to see what he could make of the other’s expression. “So it’s just you and your dad then?” The blonde asked, brows furrowed on the ground under him.

“He left in a huff last night,” Izaya said, “So hopefully he wont be back yet. Or ever.” Shizuo’s gaze came up from where it was settled over the path and Izaya immediately turned to face forward and away from the other’s face. He could feel Shizuo’s urge to prod and was pleasantly surprised when the other boy held back and silence settled over them — aside from the sound of their feet scuffing the concrete pathway and then the bitumen road. Izaya let himself bask in the comfortable quiet and focus on nothing in particular, it wasn’t until they were more than five minutes into their route and well clear of the school that Izaya felt Shizuo’s fingers brush his own. He flinched at the contact and very nearly pulled back from it completely, instinct telling him to reject the blatant display of affection as quick as it appeared. But this was what people were meant to do in relationships, he supposed, and Izaya should have known Shizuo was the type of person who’d find holding hands a feature if not a necessity of any relationship, so he let Shizuo’s touch press further to intertwine their fingers and hold tight to his hand for the walk back home.

Shirou’s car was still gone — as it had been since he left last night — and Izaya couldn’t have been more grateful for the lack of an audience when they came to a stop outside the house. Shizuo let his hand slide away from Izaya’s and brought it up to rub at the back of his neck instead. “Can I talk to you later?” He asked, eyes downcast and voice uncertain.

“Sure,” Izaya answered, keeping his gaze trained on Shizuo’s lowered lashes so when the other boy finally looked up through them, he could see the mix of conflicting emotions swirling in the dark of his honey brown eyes. Shizuo looked like he wanted to run, his shoulders were tense and his gaze kept wavering like it was a fight to keep it focused on Izaya in front of him, but his feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, and his mouth was still soft even if he couldn’t quite smooth the furrow between his brows.

Izaya knew what Shizuo wanted, what he was pushing himself to do, and also knew that no matter how long they stood outside with the cold wind chilling what skin wasn’t covered by clothes, the other boy probably wouldn’t ever bring himself to do it.

Izaya stepped closer to Shizuo and watched the blonde’s cheeks darken further — whether it was from the drop in temperature that came with the drop of the sun or something else entirely, Izaya wasn’t sure. Once he was close enough that their shoes were almost touching, and Shizuo didn’t look like he was going to bolt at any second, he raised himself up on his tippy toes and leant forward to close the rest of the distance between them, pressing his lips to the soft part of Shizuo’s and closing his eyes to the pressure in his chest.

The kiss was chaste, probably even more so than the one they’d shared underwater. Izaya pulled back almost as soon as he made the contact, leaving Shizuo without enough time to close his own eyes or make any sort of an effort to reciprocate the action. Izaya opened his eyes to look up at Shizuo through his lashes, at the red dusting over his nose, up to his cheekbones, and across to the tips of his ears sticking out from his hair. “Goodnight, Shizu-chan,” He murmured, and then took a step away from Shizuo in front of him.

“Yeah, night.” Shizuo looked dazed, his eyes were unfocused and hazy, and he spoke like the words were an afterthought. When Izaya turned away to make for the steps leading up to his front door, he half expected to look back and find Shizuo still standing there. Izaya reached the front landing, pulled his keys from his pocket to shove them into the door, and then he twisted his neck to throw a glance over his shoulder. But Shizuo was already moving away down the street, gaze set ahead of him and his fingers raised to press at the seam of his lips, where Izaya’s own had been less than a minute prior.

Izaya forced a frown onto his face just to counteract the smile he could feel pulling for dominance, and he then turned the handle on the door to push his way inside and let it fall shut behind him.

The house was dark — like he’d left it this morning — the only light being what spilled in from under the curtains drawn over every window. Izaya toed his shoes off and threw his keys into the small bowl sitting over the entryway table, only pausing in his forward movement to look back over his shoulder when they made a sound less like the clatter of metal on wood and more like the rumple of something on paper. Izaya stared down into the bowl and reached in to pull out the folded slip of paper caught under the weight of his keys.

I’m going to be staying out of town for a few days. Left some money for food and anything else you need.

Izaya fingered the small stack of notes that’d been tucked inside the folded paper and breathed a sigh of relief at his father’s apparent departure — even if it was only short-term. He was also glad he wouldn’t have to ask Shiki for an advance on the work he’d been neglecting to do for him anyway. Izaya made his way further into the house and switched on lights as he went. He threw the paper he was holding into the recycling bin and tucked the folded over wad of cash into the wallet in his pocket.

The fridge was very nearly empty, with only a few staple ingredients remaining, but Izaya drew out what he thought he could use anyway, placing items over the bench with the intention to spend more than two minutes preparing his dinner. He spent the next half hour cutting vegetables and frying noodles with meat, so happy to have the house to himself in what felt like the first time in forever that it was a struggle to stifle his humming and stamp down on the skip in his step. He already felt miles better than what he had when he’d woken up this morning and Izaya was a little surprised at how quickly everything else just washed away in the face of something good.

He’d just finished eating when the phone in his pocket started to ring. Izaya placed the dishes he’d been carrying back to the kitchen in the sink so he could slip his hand into the tight space of his jeans and pull his phone free. Shizuo’s name lit up the display and Izaya hesitated for a moment before answering, stealing a breath from the air and a greeting from his brain to place ready at the back of his tongue. Izaya swiped his thumb over the screen and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Shizu-chan,” He spoke into the receiver, and listened to the huff of a response on the other end.

“Hey.”

“I didn’t realise you’d be calling, when you said you wanted to talk I thought you’d just text.”

“Sorry…” Shizuo faltered, “Did you not want me to?”

“No, it’s fine,” Izaya chirped, moving out of the kitchen and towards the lounge room. He dropped to the couch and tipped back to lay himself across it. “What are you doing?”

“Just in my room. I was doing homework before I called.” Izaya thought he could hear the rustle of blankets and imagined Shizuo shifting to get comfortable where he was probably sprawled out over his bed. “What about you?”

“I just finished dinner,” Izaya answered, “Probably gonna do some work later.”

“Oh, school work?” Shizuo asked, his voice rising up on the end of the word.

“Sure,” Izaya said, feeling it best to leave his morally ambiguous choice of part-time work away from Shizuo’s knowledge — at least for the time being. “Hey, if you’re not going to school tomorrow why don’t we do something during the day instead of after?” He asked.

“No,” Shizuo immediately answered, like Izaya was half expecting he would. “I’m suspended, not taking the day off. Besides, you can’t skip school for a date. School is important.”

Izaya sighed, resisting the urge to argue all the reasons why it really wasn’t. “I’m probably going to skip anyway if you’re not going to be there,” He said, and then realised immediately after that perhaps he’d been a little too honest.

Shizuo fell quiet for a few seconds, his silence forced Izaya’s heart to pick up in speed. Then, “You have to go,” He pleaded, “Please?”

Izaya sighed again, making sure it was loud enough to crackle through the microphone by his mouth and then the speaker next to Shizuo’s ear. “Fine, if it means that much to you.”

“It does,” The other boy immediately answered.

That was fine, Izaya could get through an entire day without Shizuo there to offer entertainment and distraction, of course he could. What he probably couldn’t do was achieve anything productive during class with the promise of their date waiting for him after it.

Izaya told himself the day he started acting like a love-struck schoolgirl was the day he’d have no choice but to drive a knife between his eyes, but that didn’t mean his body was going to listen to him.

Chapter Text

Shizuo was too nervous to stand still.

He’d been waiting on one of the park benches lining the main street of Ikebukuro’s sidewalk for almost five minutes, and had then moved to stand by the adjacent wall for the last ten, once he’d realised he was incapable of sitting in the same spot for so long without bouncing his knee so much it had started to cramp.

But where he was standing left him little to no better, it just meant he could pace along the line of a random shop front as a means to expend his energy instead of rattling the entire weight of the park bench and scaring off any person who might have wanted to sit there. He knew it was stupid to be feeling so on edge — he’d spent time alone with Izaya before and in much closer quarters than that of the open city — but it was the title of date, he thought, that was making this interaction so different from the others, that was leaving his ground so foreign he might as well have been getting ready to step out on stage and sing in front of a thousand people.

Shizuo had put on his nicest navy button down T-shirt after rolling out of bed midday. He’d brushed his tangled hair and scrubbed his teeth so hard his gums hurt, but his converse were still a little scuffed, and his dark jeans well worn in places, and Shizuo was painfully aware of all his physical flaws like he’d never been before. Was his hair still too messy? His posture too lazy? Was he underdressed? Overdressed? Everything was a lot easier when Shizuo thought Izaya hated him, when it didn’t really matter what he did or how he dressed because either way he was going to be criticised.

Shizuo had thought that knowing Izaya liked him back would instil some measure of self confidence but it seemed to be the opposite, he’d never felt so self conscious, so wary of how he was portraying himself.

Shizuo pulled his phone from his pocket to look at the time and then put it back when he realised it’d only been a minute since he’d last done so. The wind was cold and biting, it made Shizuo wish he’d had the foresight to bring a jacket even if it wouldn’t have gone so well with his outfit. His hands were itching to light one of the cigarettes burning a hole in his back pocket, his body was craving the calm he knew the nicotine would offer him, but Shizuo kept his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his back against the wall behind him while he waited.

Shizuo didn’t know why he’d been expecting Izaya to show up in his school uniform — it was perfectly plausible for the other to have changed before leaving — but he had. It meant he only recognised the boy making his way down the sidewalk once he was close enough for Shizuo to see him pull back the hood on his dark, fur-lined coat and bare his face to Shizuo’s view. Izaya looked a hell of a lot warmer than Shizuo felt — even if the other’s nose and cheeks were still tinted pink from the outside air — but Shizuo stifled his annoyance at having left his jacket at home and instead pushed off from the wall to turn and meet the other’s arrival.

“Hey,” Izaya greeted once he was close enough. He looked smaller, Shizuo thought, bundled in a jacket that was a little too big for him. It was cute.

“Hey.” Shizuo brought a hand up to scratch at the space under his hair on the back of his neck. “How was school?”

Izaya huffed through his nose. “Terrible,” He pouted. “Everything was so boring without Shizu-chan.”

“You mean without someone to make fun of or chase you around?” He asked, the amusement pulling at his lips stifling any of the reprimand he was hoping to make of the statement.

Izaya just smiled in answer. “Yeah,” He admitted, and then lowered his gaze to look down over Shizuo’s body and back up again. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo flushed. “So do you.” A gust of wind whipped through the air and Shizuo tried not to shiver.

“You look cold too,” Izaya added. “I hope whatever surprise you have planned leads us somewhere indoors?”

“Oh, yeah.” Shizuo had momentarily forgotten he’d had something planned for the rest of the afternoon and evening at all. “Let’s go.” He turned where he was and began walking further along the main road leading into town, Izaya at his side. The streets weren’t as busy as they usually were on a Friday afternoon, whether it was because the temperature and wind left people with little desire to be outside, or the forecast for the typhoon set to approach over the weekend had made them paranoid enough to lock themselves inside early, Shizuo wasn’t sure. It meant the area surrounding sunshine city was left surprisingly empty, and as Shizuo dragged Izaya inside, towards the entrance for the aquarium, he found that within the building was even more so.

“Shizu-chan is such a cliche,” Izaya sighed from beside him, but when Shizuo looked down to frown at the other, he was smiling softly at the entrance to the space before him.

“Shut up,” Shizuo answered without any bite. He handed the girl behind the entry stand a few notes and she ushered them inside. “Have you been before?” Izaya shook his head and Shizuo smiled his confidence. “I think you’ll like it.”

Shizuo wandered down the glass tunnel arching over their heads and watched the sea life behind it swim past them. There were fish of all odd shapes and colours, and some coral vibrant enough for Shizuo to wonder if it was fake. He hadn’t been here since coming as a child with his parents and brother but already the place was making him feel nostalgic, was reminding him of the magic he first felt at coming here and seeing what felt like a world beyond his own for the first time.

Shizuo watched Izaya turn his head up to the creatures swimming over him, sometimes as they were walking he’d drift off to the side of the tunnel and pause to read the informational plaques or posters set there like Shizuo had never bothered to. As they travelled further down the tunnel, the tank seemed to open up into a wider space, expanding the variety of fish to larger creatures like stingrays and sharks. Something Shizuo thought looked like a shark but with a strangely shaped head came up to the tunnel and Izaya turned to press close against the glass like he was trying to touch the creature from outside it.

“Wow,” Shizuo heard him sigh past his reflection and into the tank. “This one looks pretty cool don’t you think Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo stepped up closer beside Izaya, where the shark was swimming back and forth in front of them. “Yeah,” He agreed, “What’s it called?”

Izaya looked down at the plaque under him. “A Hammerhead Shark,” He read aloud. “It’s smaller than most sharks. Kinda cute too.” Izaya turned away from the glass and faced Shizuo instead. “Shizu-chan should break the glass and steal it for me.”

Shizuo laughed. “Yeah? Where are you gonna keep it?”

Izaya continued walking down the tunnel and past the other creatures, glancing over them with a grin at his mouth. “In the bathtub,” He explained.

Shizuo stared at the side of Izaya’s smiling face and hummed. “And what are you going to feed it?”

“Maybe my sisters,” He shrugged, “Definitely my dad.”

Shizuo laughed again, his smile stretching wide. He turned away from Izaya to look out at the fish in the hopes it would ease his need to reach out and pull the other close to his side, to run his hand through the other’s hair. “Why don’t you start with a goldfish from the pet store or something?”

“Nah, too boring.” Izaya waved him off, using his gaze to track the movement of a group of colourful jellyfish, all but glowing behind the glass in the the dim light of the room. “I like things that are different,” He explained, “Like Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo pulled his gaze away from the jellyfish moving under the glass and down to face Izaya. The other boy had his eyes elsewhere, following the path of some fish with undivided attention. “That’s usually why most people don’t like me.”

That was why you didn’t like me, he thought without saying.

“Most people are stupid,” Izaya murmured. This time when he turned to continue walking down the exhibition, Shizuo reached out to touch his fingertips to the inside of Izaya’s open palm hanging by his side. The other boy stuttered in his walk and his hand flinched back for a moment, Shizuo watched his fingers curl into his palm as if to protect it, but then they relaxed, and Izaya let his hand press close to Shizuo’s and their fingers interlock as they walked.

By the time they’d finished the exhibition and Izaya had dragged Shizuo off to read every poster and spot every strange looking fish with his grip on the other’s hand, the outside street was left even more empty than he thought it’d been upon their arrival. Shizuo stepped out of the building and continued along the road with Izaya at his side. It was still an hour or so from dusk but as they walked Shizuo could see the sun dip behind buildings and then behind clouds, covering them in alternate bursts of shade and light.

“Where to now?” Izaya asked once they’d started moving.

“Food,” He answered simply. “There’s a nice pizza place nearby.”

“Sounds good.” Izaya chirped, moving his hand clasped tight to Shizuo’s to let it swing between them as they walked. The restaurant was almost as empty as the rest of the town seemed to be, with all but a few tables vacant and most of the establishment’s patrons lined up to wait for takeaway orders. With no one by the door to seat them, Shizuo stepped inside to claim one of the overlarge booths usually reserved for large clusters of customers should there be any. He let go of Izaya’s hand to slip into one side of the booth and watched as Izaya then slid in beside him instead of across from him. “This place looks nice,” He commented, reaching out to pull a menu from the centre of the table and unfold it in front of him.

“Yeah,” Shizuo agreed, it did look nice. The lights were dimmed down but for a small globe hanging over each table, and from where they were sitting Shizuo could see the sun glow over the sidewalk from the window beside them. He’d only ever been here a few times before, and that with his family for a celebration of some sort, but he hadn’t remembered it feeling so cosy, so… romantic.

Instead of pulling his own menu from the middle of the table, Shizuo shifted to lean against Izaya’s side and peer over the other’s shoulder at the menu in front of him. “What are you getting?” He asked.

Izaya hummed. “Probably a small margarita pizza. And a coke.” He moved the menu so it was closer to Shizuo’s side of the table. “What about you?”

“Pepperoni,” He answered. “And maybe a milkshake.”

Izaya huffed a laugh in Shizuo’s direction. “Is that really an okay combination?”

Shizuo just shrugged. “Sure, milk goes with anything.”

The look on Izaya’s face said he highly disagreed, but for some reason decided not to press the matter further. “If you say so.”

There was only one waitress Shizuo could see manning the floor and she greeted them with a smile, taking down their orders with quick strokes of a pen of paper and then retreating to the kitchen with a promise that their wait wouldn’t be long.

“So,” Shizuo started once the waitress had disappeared. He fiddled with the bandage he’d badly wrapped over his knuckles and down to his wrist before leaving this morning. “How am I doing so far? For a first date I mean.”

Izaya slumped back into the cushiony booth behind him with a smirk. “Alright,” He answered, “I mean it hasn’t been a complete disaster so far so it’s already more than I could have hoped.

Shizuo looked up from his hand to shoot the other boy a disparaging glare. “If you thought it was going to be so bad then why did you agree to go?”

Izaya shrugged but his smile drew wide, “I guess I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Shizuo rolled his eyes, but it was more for show than anything else. He watched the waitress return from the kitchen with a tray holding their drinks and reached out to pull his own in once she’d set them on the table, using the straw to slurp eagerly at the pink, frothy milk inside. Once he’d cleared almost half the cup in one go, Shizuo forced himself to push it away and save the rest for later.

Their food came out soon after and just like with his drink, Shizuo struggled not to scarf it all down in one go, the smell and heat and taste all too enticing to his empty stomach. It was as good as he remembered, maybe even more so, and Shizuo savoured every warm bite.

When the plates were mostly empty and Shizuo’s stomach was very full, they left the table and made for the front counter of the restaurant. Shizuo went to pull his wallet from his back pocket but Izaya stopped him with a hand on his arm. “My shout. You already paid at the aquarium.”

Shizuo wanted to resist, to explain that he’d been the one to invite Izaya out so he should have to pay for it but he knew he would have been wasting his breath. Izaya pulled a few notes from his own wallet and handed them over the counter before accepting his change. When they turned to leave the restaurant, Shizuo pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped out into the cold.

The breeze had definitely picked up with the hour they’d spent inside and Shizuo thought the temperature must have dropped too. When he looked up over him the sky was already beginning to darken, thick grey clouds rolling in to cover the sun before it could truly set, and Shizuo wondered if perhaps the storm was coming early.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” Izaya voiced his own thoughts beside him. When Shizuo looked down to watch him, the other boy had his head turned up to what glow of light was still managing to peak through from between dark thunder clouds. “We should probably start to head back so we don’t get caught in it.”

“Yeah,” Shizuo agreed. He wasn’t quite ready for their time together to be over, but the last thing he wanted was to get stuck in the middle of a typhoon, far from home and without so much as a jacket for protection between himself and the wind. “Let’s go.”

Shizuo turned and started on the path back home, hands shoved deep inside his pockets and shoulders hunched up around his ears in an effort to preserve what little body warmth he had left. With each cold blow of wind, he was feeling infinitely more jealous of Izaya walking beside him, wrapped in what looked like the warmest coat Shizuo’d ever seen. The streets were truly empty now, even more so than before, everyone having the thought to retreat indoors before the full force of the oncoming storm rained down upon them.

A few minutes into their walk and the shopfronts beside them trailed off to a small concrete wall a metre or so off the ground. Shizuo watched from the corner of his eye as Izaya jumped up onto the ledge with his hands still stuffed deep inside his pockets and began the walk the wall, one foot in front of the other with Shizuo below and beside him. With every strong gust of wind Shizuo half expected him to stumble and fall, but Izaya kept his balance without moving his hands, even going so far as to skip and twirl in place along the wall like a gymnast on a balance beam.

“Stop it, you’re gonna fall.” Shizuo finally spoke aloud, his anxiety peaking after seeing Izaya twirl for the third time. Izaya smiled down from the height he’d suddenly gained over Shizuo before pulling one hand from his pocket and holding it out over the distance between them. Shizuo let his frown ease, let the tension coiling the muscles in his arms tight enough to reach out and catch the other should he fall go slack, and let one of his own hands free from his pants pocket to reach up beside him and take Izaya’s hand in his, offering what balance and support his grip could provide; even if it wasn’t any — Izaya’s footing didn’t look any less steady before he’d reached out — at least it let Shizuo feel a little more comfortable, his chest tightened at the thought that that was probably the reason Izaya had chosen to do it in the first place.

Eventually the ledge under Izaya’s feet came to an abrupt end, making way for resident yards and mailboxes. Izaya slowed to a stop at the end of the wall and twisted on his feet to face Shizuo instead. “Catch me,” he said, so straight faced and sincere Shizuo had barely grasped the meaning of his words before the other was already letting go of Shizuo’s hand and leaping off the edge of the wall.

“W-wait,” Shizuo stuttered, stumbling back and away while also opening his arms wide. Izaya began to descend and Shizuo hesitated in how to still his momentum, where to put his hands. He settled for seizing them around the back of the other’s thighs, Izaya’s chest bumped his, Izaya’s hands landed at his shoulders, and Shizuo stumbled a bit with the other’s sudden weight, wobbling along the pavement before finally finding balance and stilling his sideways movement. He looked up at the other boy over him with a frown on his face and an insult ready at his lips, but when he met Izaya’s bright eyes and tight lipped smile, everything dissolved into a short huff of laughter.

Izaya’s grin spread at Shizuo’s amusement and he began laughing too, like the other’s sharp huffs of air were contagious when they were pressed this close together. Once Shizuo had caught his breath and stifled the most of his sniggering, he released where his forearms were caught close around the back’s of Izaya’s thighs, almost pressing directly under the curve of his ass, and let the other boy slide down his body to land with his feet on the concrete below them. Izaya kept his arms circled around Shizuo’s neck and, for lack of anything else to hold, Shizuo let his empty hands drift to either side of the other’s waist.

The amusement had faded pretty fast from Shizuo’s system, now he was just nervous. His heartbeat was beginning to pound in his ears and his breathing felt like it was getting stuck in his throat, and still Izaya wasn’t pulling away. He knew what he was supposed to do, knew what Izaya wanted from him, but he didn’t want to be the one to initiate it, to make the first move. But already Shizuo could see something like disappointment flicker in Izaya’s eyes, and feel his arms loosen their hold around his neck as if to pull away. Shizuo tightened his grip on the other’s waist, used it to keep him steady and keep him from moving away, and then he closed his eyes and tipped his head forward to capture Izaya’s lips under his in a burst of movement too short to be leaving him so breathless.

Izaya’s lips were softer than Shizuo remembered, granted he’d never had much time or thought to spare for taking note of such a thing, but with the other’s immediate retreat stalled for the moment, Shizuo promised himself the time to remember it now. He held his position for a moment longer than what Izaya had last time before experimenting in pressing deeper and harder against the other’s mouth. When he pulled back for a breath, with intent to gauge Izaya’s expression, he didn’t have the chance. Izaya shifted up onto his tippy toes and moved his hands so he could use his grip on the back of Shizuo’s neck to pull himself up and the other back down. Izaya met his lips harder than Shizuo had, twisting his head to better fit them together as they touched.

Shizuo had not much clue of what kissing involved other than what he’d seen in movies, but he tried to follow what felt right as much as he followed the other’s lead, parting his lips and then pressing them over Izaya’s until he got the hang of it. Izaya was a better kisser, Shizuo noted distantly, whether he’d had experience in the act or just a lot of instinct, Shizuo wasn’t sure.

Shizuo used his grip at Izaya’s waist to pull him closer, to press their bodies as near as he could get them, and then Izaya shifted a hand up from his neck to tangle into Shizuo’s hair, and bit down on Shizuo’s lower lip the same time he tightened the fist in his locks, and Shizuo groaned into the other’s mouth, the hot sound involuntarily pulled from him more than anything else. He hesitated in his movement, startled by the sound of himself, but Izaya wouldn’t let go, just opened his mouth wider and pressed his lips down harder like he was trying to draw more of the same sound from Shizuo by force.

Shizuo needed to breath, he could feel his lungs burning just as much as his body, the cold wind all but forgotten with Izaya pressed so close, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, to even spare a moment free from Izaya’s lips and gasp for much needed air. And then Shizuo felt something fall to his face, cold and wet to slide down his cheek. He ignored it, too lost in the feeling of Izaya’s mouth under his to spare much thought for anything else, but then he felt it again on his arm, and another just under his lashes. Shizuo opened his eyes and forced himself to pull back from Izaya. The other boy let him go and Shizuo watched his lashes flutter open and his kiss-swollen lips part on his breathing, all the while gasping for his own.

Caught in the look on Izaya’s face, in the red flushing his cheeks and mouth, Shizuo almost forgot what he’d originally pulled away for, but another icy drop found it’s way onto his skin and Shizuo tore his gaze away from Izaya’s face to look up at the sky.

“Oh.” He murmured as another drop fell to land over his nose, and then again directly into his eye. He blinked rapidly to shed the cold weight of it.

“It’s raining,” He heard Izaya say, and looked down to see the other looking up, his face quickly becoming spattered with small drops of water, some wetting his lashes and some rolling over the open part of his lips. When Izaya finally brought his gaze down to settle over Shizuo watching him, he huffed a laugh. “We should probably go now.”

“Okay,” Shizuo agreed, even though he didn’t think a little rain could stop him from leaning back in to press his mouth to Izaya’s again, a typhoon probably could. Shizuo released his grip on the other’s waist and stepped back to turn and continue walking in the direction they’d been headed, the soft, slow patter of rain filling all the gaps in their silence.

The light shower only lasted as long as Shizuo had the time to call it that, barely a few steps alongside the street and the rain began to pelt instead of patter, like they’d just been unfortunate enough to step directly under the pour of a dark, heavy rain cloud. Izaya began walking faster and Shizuo quickly followed, willing his extra movement to ward off the cold chill of water plastering his shirt to his skin and his hair to his face.

Shizuo sped his steps until it was easier to break into a jog than hold to the too-fast power walk he’d been barely managing to keep under control. A strong gust of wind powerful enough to bend nearby trees and knock over a few outside bins brought a sharp spray of water with it, and Shizuo flinched at the almost painful stab of icy raindrops. Izaya sped up his jog in time with it, and Shizuo reached out to grasp for the other’s hand as they ran. It wasn’t logical, he knew the wind wouldn’t get so strong as to blow Izaya away, and the clutch of their fingers was probably throwing off their balance more than anything else, but Shizuo held tight to Izaya’s hand anyway, finding purchase on the other’s rain slick skin as they ran from a storm increasing in intensity with what felt like every passing second.

He didn’t think he needed to clarify where they were headed now, with the rain getting heavier and the wind stronger, and Shizuo’s own house the closest of their two, it only made sense they both headed there now. Shizuo used his hold on Izaya’s hand to pull him into crossing the road and turning down the street to get to his home.

Their feet splashed in quick forming puddles over the ground, Shizuo could feel his socks soaking in his shoes, but he ignored it for the adrenaline burning in his veins, the mix of fear and excitement sticking his breathing in his chest.

The rain was freezing his bare arms with icy pinpricks spurred on by the wind but Izaya’s hand still felt warm inside his own.

Chapter Text

Izaya stumbled inside after Shizuo with his shoes full of water and his hair plastered to the rest of his face.

Shizuo had fiddled with his key in the lock for more time than Izaya really thought necessary, not that an extra minute or so in the rain could have possibly left him any more wet than what he already was, but it was still a relief to step under shelter and out of range of the cold wind and even colder water quickly soaking through his clothes. Shizuo slammed the front door shut after Izaya had shuffled in, like he was afraid the typhoon would suddenly take to the inside of his house. With the door now closed and the storm outside muffled by the protective barrier of the house around them, Izaya took the chance to breathe.

He brought a hand up to push his wet bangs away from his eyes and cast his gaze to Shizuo instead. He looked as much a mess as Izaya was sure he did too, his usually unruly hair had been slicked down by the weight of the water and his clothes were making small puddles on the tiled entryway beneath him. Izaya laughed, he couldn’t help himself. He tried to stifle his smile by biting down on his lip, but it wasn’t working, and once Shizuo’s grin spread in answer and his laughs followed Izaya’s own, he stopped trying.

“Fuck,” Izaya got out after his short huffs of air had died down to just a smile, “It’s cold.”

“Wait here,” Shizuo said while working his wet shoes off his feet, “I’ll go get some towels.” The other boy turned and made his way further inside the house on quick feet, like the less time they spent touching the ground, the less chance he’d have of ruining his parent’s carpet with rainwater. Izaya took the time alone to untie his boots and pull his feet free from the soaking weight of them. His jacket was next, he slipped it off his shoulders and hung it on the empty coat rack beside him, letting it drip slow puddles onto the floor with his shoes. Izaya sighed, he really hoped it wasn’t ruined. That was his favourite coat. He resisted the urge to wring out the black long sleeve shirt stuck to his arms and chest and shake the water from his too heavy jeans, he didn’t want to do any more damage to the area than what they’d already done.

Izaya heard the thud of Shizuo’s footsteps before he saw him come around the corner and into the entryway with two towels in his hold. He slowed his quick movement once his feet hit the tiles instead of the carpet, but the puddles of water and his already wet socks still led him to slip a little. Izaya reached out a hand to grab at Shizuo’s shoulder and help him steady his balance.

“Whoah, thanks.” Shizuo said once he’d righted himself. Izaya drew his hand back and let it drop to his side, it was a meaningless bit of motion but Shizuo followed it with his gaze, tracking it down to where Izaya’s dark clothes clung to his calves, his thighs, before moving up to his stomach, his shoulders; Izaya shivered a little under the other’s stare, and when Shizuo’s gaze finally lifted to meet his own, the other boy quickly looked away with heat already casting away the cold on his face. “Here,” He murmured, holding a towel out across the distance between them. Izaya eagerly accepted it, immediately bringing it up to wipe the wet from his face and run it through his hair. “I started filling a bath,” Shizuo spoke again, running the towel he was holding over his own wet hair, “You can go first if you want.”

“Okay,” Izaya answered, no way was he going to refuse that. And then he finally thought to ask, “Where are your parents?” Because the coatrack was empty but for his own jacket, and Izaya had yet to see or hear any signs of life in the house aside from their own.

“They went with Kasuka to his drama camp for the weekend, some place near Osaka,” Shizuo mumbled.

“Oh,” Izaya turned to look outside the window next to the closed front door and wondered if the storm would hit Osaka too. The winds were still raging, rustling trees and ripping small plants from the ground. “It’s going to be an unpleasant walk home,” He murmured, “I wonder how long this will last.”

Izaya had really only been talking to himself, but Shizuo answered anyway. “I think it’s supposed to last all weekend, but it might let up a bit tomorrow.” Izaya hummed, but before he could speak, Shizuo was talking once more. “You should stay here tonight,” He blurted, fast, like he had to get all the words out at once or they wouldn’t come at all. “I-if you want,” He quickly followed, “I mean, no one’s home and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna be safe to go back outside for a while.”

Izaya turned to face Shizuo instead of the storm outside. “Okay,” He answered. I mean, why not right? It wasn’t like he had anyone waiting for him at home. He could stay here all weekend and — so long as Shirou didn’t come back — no one would know or probably care.

“Okay,” Shizuo echoed. Izaya thought he saw the start of a smile twist the other’s lips but Shizuo turned away before he could get a proper look. “The bath is probably ready,” He said, “I’ll take you upstairs.”

Izaya followed Shizuo out of the entryway and further into the house. He recognised most of the place from the last time he’d been here, but as Shizuo turned and began leading them up the stairs to the second story of the building, Izaya realised he was stepping into unknown territory in more ways than one. Shizuo paused outside an open door and gestured him inside. “I left another towel inside for you,” He said. Izaya murmured his thanks and stepped into the room. Shizuo pulled the door closed behind him.

The air was warm, the steam from the hot water still filling the bath had suffused the room and was slowing working to unthaw Izaya’s frozen muscles. Izaya walked up to the full tub and turned the handle to stem the flow of water. He immediately began to strip himself free of his clothes, pulling his soaking shirt up over his head and letting it fall to the tiles with a wet slap. His jeans were a little more difficult to get off - they were on the verge of too tight when they’d been dry – but he eventually managed, finally parting with his underwear and socks as well.

The water was too hot; Izaya had stepped into it without testing it first and now he fought the urge to step right back out. The scalding water around his freezing cold feet was such a drastic change in temperature it hurt. He had to let himself adjust slowly, waiting for the pinpricks to fade before submerging more of himself inside. Once he was fully seated in the tub, water just under his chest, Izaya leaned back with a sigh and let it cover up to his shoulders.

The part of his brain not melting in heat, not languid with pleasure, was still struggling to grasp the reality of where he was and what he was doing. If a couple of weeks ago someone had told him he’d be here, soaking in Shizuo’s bath tub, in Shizuo’s house, after just returning from a date with and organised by Shizuo, Izaya would have laughed at the absolute ridiculousness of such a speculation and then stabbed the person mentioning it just for good measure. But here he was, and Izaya didn’t know what scared him more, the fact that he hadn’t been able to anticipate such a thing, or the fact that it didn’t feel as strange as he was making it out to be, it almost felt natural.

Izaya tipped his head back into the water to slick his hair away from his face. When he pulled himself upright, there was someone knocking at the door. “Yes?” He called, and the knocking stopped.

“Um,” Izaya heard Shizuo start to speak through the barrier of the closed door between them. “I was gonna ask if you wanted me to put your clothes in the dryer.”

Izaya looked at the sopping wet mess of his clothes on the ground and hummed. “Yes please,” He called back. Shizuo was silent for a moment, for two. Izaya could imagine him in HD clarity hesitating outside the closed door.

“Uhh, can I come in?” He asked.

Izaya sat up a little straighter in the tub and drew his knees close to his chest. “Sure.”

Shizuo opened the door and stepped inside without taking his eyes off the tile under him. Izaya watched him place a small bundle of folded clothes on the sink and then move to retrieve Izaya’s wet clothes from the ground. “I got you something to wear,” He mumbled, “They might be a little big though.”

“Thanks,” Izaya said, watching Shizuo do his best to keep his eyes from wandering away from the ground. Such a prude, he thought to himself with a smile. He guessed it was kind of sweet.

“Do you want me to put your coat in as well?” He asked once he’d gathered all of Izaya’s wet things. Izaya noted he was still wearing his own soaking shirt and jeans.

“Yeah okay. Make sure you take my stuff out of the pockets though.” He warned him. Even if his phone somehow had survived the typhoon outside, he really didn’t want to see how well it faired after a round in the dryer.

“Okay.” Shizuo nodded his agreement and then left the room with the soft click of the door closing behind him.

Izaya let himself stay slumped in the tub for another handful of minutes, but when the air started to feel stifling instead of soothing, and Izaya thought he was in some danger of passing out in the warm water, he pulled himself from the tub and used the towel Shizuo’d left for him to dry off. Shizuo was right, the clothes were much too big. The sweatpants hung low on his hips even with the drawstring pulled tight, and he had to roll up the last few inches on either leg just so he didn’t accidentally step on them. The T-shirt barely hung on both shoulders, it kept slipping down to bare too much of his collarbone and chest. It made him look small in a way he wasn’t sure he liked and Izaya wondered why Shizuo hadn’t thought to borrow some of his little brother’s clothes instead. At least the underwear fit, Izaya tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was wearing what had once been his enemies boxer briefs.

Izaya dried his hair as best he could and then hung the towel over a spare hook on the wall. As soon as he opened the door, he was met with a cold burst of air, the difference in temperature between the bathroom and the rest of the house almost startling. He felt a little bad for making Shizuo wait as long as he had for his turn of the bath. Even though it wasn’t quite night, the house was dim and shadowy, all the light that would usually be coming in through the windows was blocked by the dark clouds still covering the sky. To his right and further down the hallway, Izaya could see light emanating from the open door of a room. He walked towards it.

The first thing Izaya saw once he’d carefully stepped inside the room was Shizuo stood bent over his desk instead of sitting at it. He was still wearing wet clothes and Izaya could see water from his hair and the soaking bandage on his hand dripping to land at the papers spread out on the desk under him. “What are you doing?” He asked. Shizuo’s gaze shot up from the page he’d been looking at to Izaya instead. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again in favour of running his gaze over the too big fit of the clothes Izaya was wearing in silence. It took Izaya tugging one side of his shirt further onto his shoulder for Shizuo to snap out of it and turn away with a cough.

“Uh, I was just trying to do some homework,” He said, gesturing to the disorganised mess of textbooks and papers over his desk, “But it's hurting my hand too much.” Shizuo dropped the pen he’d been clutching in his still healing hand back to the table and turned to pull some clothes from his dresser. “Is there anything you need before I take a bath?” He asked. Izaya tried to adjust his shirt so it covered more of his arms without falling off of his shoulders.

“Can I borrow a jumper?”

“Sure.” Shizuo closed the draw he’d been looking through and immediately opened another. Izaya watched him pull free the dark grey hoodie he’d let Izaya borrow on the bus back from their swimming excursion. “Here,” He said, throwing it across the room in Izaya’s direction. Izaya caught it easily, he tried not to smile as he pulled it over his head and slipped his arms through the soft sleeves. “The things from your coat are over there,” Shizuo gestured to his bedside table. “Your phone and wallet and…” He paused for a moment, when Izaya turned to face him, his brows were furrowed and his mouth set in a straight line, “knife.”

“Thanks,” Izaya said, turning to walk towards the table and inspect the damage done to his belongings. The blade looked fine, still folded in on itself, so long as he left it to dry the bearings probably wouldn’t rust. He didn’t really care about his wallet as long as he could still use the money inside. Izaya picked up his phone and pressed the button over its side, waiting with bated breath to see if he’d have to buy a new one. Nothing happened for a moment, but then he pressed the button again with a little more force and the screen flickered to life. Phew, it still works, he gave a mental sigh of relief.

“I won’t be long,” Shizuo spoke from the hall outside his room, “Feel free to do… whatever while you wait.” Izaya watched Shizuo turn and step out of view, a few moments later he heard the bathroom door close.

With Shizuo gone, Izaya took the chance to look around his room. It wasn’t as messy as he’d originally anticipated, aside from the clutter of papers and textbooks over the desk everything else seemed well organised and in place; the double bed pushed to the corner of the room was neatly made, the dresser draws and wardrobe doors were closed, even the floor looked free of any dirty clothes or misplaced objects. Izaya thought he could see a closed guitar case resting between the dresser and a bookshelf but he ignored it for now and looked down at the homework splayed out over Shizuo’s desk instead.

It was math, and it was easy. Izaya wondered if Shizuo was just having trouble filling in the answers with his sore hand or if he was having trouble understanding it too. Izaya looked up at the due date typed onto the corner of the page and sighed. He settled himself into the seat in front of Shizuo’s desk, picked up the pen Shizuo had dropped there before leaving, and began to write out answers matching as best he could to Shizuo’s own handwriting.

He finished in what felt like a few minutes but was probably closer to ten. Izaya pushed himself back from Shizuo’s desk and stood to flick the light switch by the door over and send the room into darkness. Using the dim light from the window by Shizuo’s bed to guide him across the room, Izaya turned on the lamp by the bedside table and then moved to climb onto the bed itself. He took a careful seat in the middle of it, legs crossed under him, and pulled his phone from beside the lamp so he could look up the weather forecast for the rest of the weekend. The results were dismal, the rain was to lighten at points in tomorrow and the day after that, but never really let up until late Sunday.

Izaya heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and then the soft thump of feet coming down the hallway. When he looked up from his phone, it was to find Shizuo standing in the doorway with his chest bare and a towel wrapped around his waist. “Um, I forgot my clothes,” He said by way of an excuse, before walking inside and pulling open the draws of his dresser. Izaya watched him pull out pieces of clothing and throw them on his desk for as long as it took Shizuo to realise he was being watched. Clutching his towel tight to his waist, he stared at Izaya with an expectant look. Izaya sighed and turned around in his spot on the bed until he had his back to the other boy.

Instead of listening to the sound of Shizuo getting dressed, Izaya returned his attention back to his phone, scrolling through previous and new emails just for something to do. When he heard Shizuo grunt out something that sounded like “Hey”, he abandoned the phone in favour of looking back over his shoulder to answer, “Yeah?”

Shizuo was fully dressed, with his T-shirt and sweatpants covering what skin had been left bare on his body before, but he was looking down at the papers on his desk, brows furrowed like he didn’t understand what he was seeing. “Did you do my homework for me?”

Izaya turned back around on the bed so he was fully facing Shizuo and shrugged. “Maybe.”

Shizuo’s eyes widened, his face twisted into an expression Izaya had trouble making sense of. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Izaya said, turning his phone over in his hands, “But it’s kind of my fault you can’t write properly.” He tried to sound dismissive, like he didn’t care, but Shizuo was coming closer anyway, stepping forward to sit himself at the edge of the bed.

“Thanks,” He said, and Izaya had to look away from the sincerity in the other’s voice and find sudden interest in the paint covering Shizuo’s bedroom walls instead. Some patches were lighter than others, like he’d had to repeatedly paint over damage done to it.

“It’s no big deal, it only took me like ten minutes.” Izaya tore his gaze away from the wall and focused it on Shizuo. He tipped his head and smirked while he spoke. “Shizu-chan’s work is way too easy, you should move up a class and get away from that creepy teacher.”

Shizuo frowned, Izaya thought he might have seen him shudder too. “I wish,” He said, moving to lean back on both his hands pressed to the bed behind him and turn his head up to stare at the ceiling. “No way I’m smart enough though. Besides, I’m afraid that if I talk to him, I’ll end up punching his fucking face in.”

Izaya smirked, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t love seeing that. “Why?” He asked, not that Shizuo needed a reason to hit someone aside from not liking them, Izaya knew that better than most.”

“Because you’re right,” Shizuo answered, and if Izaya had a little less self control he might have laughed at hearing something so strange coming from Shizuo’s mouth. “He is a creep. That’s why I got so pissed when you were joking about it.” Shizuo tore his gaze away from the ceiling and brought it back down to focus on Izaya instead. His brows were low, his eyes dark. When he spoke, the words were practically growled, barely making it past the tight clench of his teeth. “I’ve seen the way he looks at other students too, people like that are fucking disgusting and deserve to die.”

Izaya swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling a little too dry. There was something that felt a lot like anxiety bubbling up in his chest, but he wasn’t sure why. He tried not to think about it and powered on by speaking instead, even though everything in his body was for some reason telling him to let the conversation go.

“I guess,” He answered carefully, and in a surprisingly even tone. He licked his lips before speaking again, “But don’t you think they just need help like any other sick person? Shouldn’t you be feeling sorry for them instead of hating them?”

Shizuo’s eyes widened a little, then his brows furrowed like he was having trouble understanding what Izaya was saying. “I guess I never really thought of it like that,” He said, staring off to the side of Izaya’s face. “And I definitely didn’t think you would.”

Izaya didn’t know what to make of that; he guessed out of the two of the he’d usually be considered the more spiteful and Shizuo the more considerate. “What can I say,” He shrugged, tightening his grip on the phone in his lap, “I love all humans.”

Shizuo re-centred his attention on Izaya, when they locked eyes Izaya felt like Shizuo was trying to look through him. “Really?” He asked, “Even them?”

Izaya fought the urge to shift uncomfortably; he wasn’t sure why it was so hard to breathe, so hard to speak. His throat had gotten dry again, but his palms were sweaty in their grip around his phone, like they were stealing what moisture he needed to speak comfortably. Izaya shifted his gaze away from Shizuo’s and found it a little easier to answer. “Sure,” He said. He changed his mind, he wanted this conversation to be over now, even if he told himself he didn’t know why.

Shizuo stayed silent for few moments longer, Izaya could feel the other’s stare even with his own gaze cast to the side. He breathed in, breathed out, then Shizuo’s shoulders slumped, he sighed a breath and let some of the intensity in his gaze go with it. Izaya let himself relax a little too, let the grip on his phone loosen before he cracked it. “Are you still cold?” Shizuo asked.

Izaya shook his head, “I’m okay.” It was close to being too warm in Shizuo’s overlarge sweater.

“Are you hungry?” He asked again, and Izaya met Shizuo’s gaze to shake his head once more, this time with a smirk at his lips.

“I’m fine.”

It was dark outside now, what was left of the afternoon had given way to true night, but the sky was still too cloudy to show any stars – if the bright lights of the nearby city centre would ever allow for such a thing - and the heavy pour of rain obscured most of what could been seen from the window beside Shizuo’s bed. From the corner of his eye Izaya saw a sudden flash of lightning strike across the sky, lighting up the room for a brief moment of startling clarity. The loud crash of thunder followed a few moments later, muffled by the rain and the closed window, but loud enough to make him shiver.

It was late, but not late enough to go to sleep. It would still be more than a handful of hours ‘till the time Izaya usually found some semblance of rest for himself, and though he was exhausted, he thought he felt a little too jittery to lay still in bed for more than a few minutes. Shizuo was fiddling with the sheets under him, very obviously searching his brain for something to say or something to suggest they do. Izaya wasn’t sure if what he was going to do would put an end to his suffering or make it a whole lot worse. With a shaky breath, he uncrossed his legs from over the bed and pushed himself up onto his knees. He began to crawl forward along the mattress, letting it dip under his weight as he moved. Shizuo’s attention shifted from something he’d been focusing on across the room to Izaya moving beside him; as he turned his face, Izaya paused to watch another flash of lightning glow across Shizuo’s features, brightening the blonde of his hair to something almost white and illuminating the brown in his eyes to something almost gold.

Once he was close enough, Izaya pushed himself back onto his knees and looked down at Shizuo looking up. It felt strange to be the one towering over the blonde for once, he felt like he was seeing an angle of Shizuo he rarely got the chance to study so close. Shizuo had turned his body in a bit from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg up onto the mattress instead of hanging off of it just to face Izaya better. He looked confused, and maybe a little nervous too – all the things Izaya was sure he reflected in his own face. He reached out a hand across the distance left between them, cursing himself as it trembled slightly, and let it land at the side of Shizuo’s cheek. He stroked his fingers along the other’s cheekbone, where the little light of the room was highlighting, and then pushed his palm to cup the other’s face; Shizuo’s wide eyes fluttered shut, his tense shoulders eased, and he let himself lean into Izaya’s touch at the side of his face like a kitten nuzzling its owner’s palm.

Izaya’s breath caught in his throat, his chest constricted on a burst of affection so intense it was very nearly painful. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, he was just… doing; doing what his body wanted, carrying out the actions his heart was telling him to without giving his brain the time to analyse and interfere. It was liberating, not letting himself think for once, not letting himself care.

Izaya stroked his thumb across Shizuo’s cheek, when the other boy opened his eyes again, he let his hand slide from his skin to the back of his hair, tangling his fingers into the still damp strands. God, how had he never noticed Shizuo was this beautiful before; attractive, sure, but Izaya swore he’d never seen his eyes this bright, or his mouth this soft. Maybe it was just the expression he was making, the way he was staring up at Izaya like he was just as mesmerised of Izaya as Izaya was of him.

Izaya’s fingers twitched with the urge to trace the slightly open part of Shizuo’s lips, but he left one hand hanging limp in his lap, and the other tangled into Shizuo’s hair, and leant forward with the intention of letting his mouth do the work for him. Ducking his head to the rattle of his own heartbeat that matched the pounding rain outside, Izaya tipped forward to press his lips to Shizuo’s and close his eyes.

Shizuo pushed into the kiss, sliding his lips over Izaya’s hesitantly at first, and then with a little more confidence. His reached up with one hand to wrap his fingers around the back of Izaya’s neck, holding him steady against the pressure of his mouth. Izaya tilted his head and pushed back harder, opened his mouth wider; when the hand he moved from his side to run along Shizuo’s shoulder met the bare skin of his neck and collar, Izaya flicked out his tongue and ran it along the swelling pout of Shizuo’s lower lip. Shizuo immediately opened his mouth wider and Izaya took the invitation to push his tongue past the other’s lips and into his mouth.

Izaya had never done this before. When he’d first started high school he’d made sure to kiss a number of people, to take the opportunity to further his education on the matter with a select few he found interesting at the time, but they’d been little more than glorified grade school kisses, some only lasting a handful of seconds and all of them without tongue. He found himself wishing he’d experimented more, taught himself to be more impressive for the sake of not embarrassing himself when the time came to go further. He was relying mostly on instinct now and that was something he rarely gave himself the chance to do.

Izaya licked into Shizuo’s mouth, tasting something sweet and hot. Shizuo hesitated with his own tongue, like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to reciprocate, but after a moment he pushed back, let the hot muscle glide over Izaya’s own and flick ticklish sensation against the roof of his mouth. Another number of wet slides and soft licks and Izaya thought he was starting the get the hang of it, he unintentionally found a rhythm that Shizuo began to match with ease. When Shizuo’s other hand came up to trail feather light along his waist, Izaya tried to shuffle closer on his knees; when he ran up against the other’s leg and could close the distance between them no more, Izaya held his breath and, in one smooth motion, swung his leg over the other’s thighs to straddle and seat himself in Shizuo’s lap.

Shizuo stiffened at the change in position, his hands immediately moving to grip at either side of Izaya’s waist. Izaya leant back in to deepen the kiss before Shizuo had the chance to speak, untangling his hand from the other’s hair and curling both around his neck. Shizuo was still tense, Izaya could feel it in the tendons of the other’s throat under his hands, but he was kissing Izaya back with just as much fervour and, after a moment of hesitation and fumbling, he removed his hands from Izaya’s waist and let them drop to his knees instead. Izaya wasn’t completely seated in Shizuo’s lap, most of his weight still being supported by his knees spread open either side of Shizuo’s hips, but as Shizuo slowly and hesitantly ran his hands up the outside of Izaya’s thighs, nearing his ass, a sudden burst of overwhelming heat convinced him to abandon all thought and drop his weight to grind his hips forward into Shizuo’s own.

Shizuo’s breath hitched, his hands seized almost painfully tight against the back of Izaya’s thighs, but the feeling just made the heat filling Izaya’s chest burn hotter. He shifted his weight, tilted his angle, and pressed forward again to this time roll his hips against Shizuo’s with a level of elegance and dexterity he hadn’t thought himself currently capable of.

Shizuo groaned into his mouth and Izaya broke the kiss to gasp. His change in angle let the last press of his hips line up with near perfect precision against Shizuo’s own, he could feel the other’s erection press hard against the inside junction of his thigh and groin and it made his breath hitch. He couldn’t stop himself now even if he wanted to, even if some part of himself knew he should. Everything was too hot, Izaya felt like he was burning under the weight of Shizuo’s borrowed clothes. He pulled back and then pushed forward with another shameless roll of his hips, this time arching his back a bit more and pressing his own erection against the line of Shizuo’s hip with greater force. Shizuo’s head dropped to Izaya’s shoulder, like holding the weight of it up had become more effort than he was willing to give. Izaya’s hips stuttered, the surge of pleasure from his action forced a small moan from his lips despite his best attempts to hold it in.

“F-fuck,” Shizuo gasped against his shoulder, breathless with heat. His hands shot up from Izaya’s thighs to grip at his hips and hold them back from his own. “Wait,” He said, “We sh-shouldn’t.”

Izaya had to wait for the blood to stop pounding in his ears before he could make sense of the statement, and then wait again for his breathing to even before he attempted to speak. “What? Why?” He hadn’t meant to sound quite as defensive as did, but the heat filling his chest and throbbing in his groin was still clouding his coherency too much to think clearly.

Shizuo’s face was flushed red when he lifted it from Izaya’s shoulder. Izaya could still feel the other’s desire to continue what they’d been doing pressed hard against the inside line of his thigh, so why was he asking him to stop? When Shizuo swallowed Izaya could feel the motion of it under his hands still clasped around Shizuo’s neck. “I don’t know if it’s okay.” Izaya frowned, What the fuck is that supposed to mean? His confusion must have been showing because Shizuo opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again to clarify. “We’ve only been on one date,” He said, “People always say you’re supposed to wait to do… this sort of thing.”

Izaya’s scowl deepened and something that felt a lot like disappointment began to curl in his chest. Shizuo’s concern was a valid one and so Izaya found it hard to be angry with him for it, but that didn’t mean he understood. Sure they’d only been on one date, but they’d known each other for more than a year, and had been tiptoeing around something that – now that he looked back on it - felt a hell of a lot like friendship for more than a week. Besides, since when did Shizuo care about what other people had to say? Since when did either of them do anything the way other’s told them to?

“There’s no rule about it, you know.” Izaya tried to sound nonchalant, but his brows were still furrowed, and now that he knew Shizuo was having second thoughts, he was starting to lose his confidence. Self-consciousness like he’d never felt before started sliding its grip around his body. “Don’t you want to?” Izaya wished he didn’t sound so hesitant, actually, as soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn’t said them at all.

Shizuo made a face like Izaya had just said something very stupid. “Of course I do,” He very nearly growled, and Izaya felt some of the strain pulling his shoulders up around his ears relax enough to let them drop.

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked, more than a little frustrated.

Shizuo just sighed, dropping his gaze to watch where he was fiddling with the hem of his own jumper hanging low on Izaya’s hips. “I don’t want you to regret it,” He said, “Or to do something before you’re ready for it.”

“That’s stupid,” Izaya blurted the words before he could think better of it, but when Shizuo looked up and opened his mouth to protest, Izaya spoke again before he had the chance. “I am ready. And I’m not going to regret it.” Then again, before Shizuo started to think he was being pressured, “But if you’re not ready then-”

“I am,” Shizuo quickly cut him off, face still burning. “I was just making sure you were too.”

“Okay.” Izaya let himself relax in Shizuo’s lap, the eliminated threat of rejection forcing some of the discontent clutching his heart to ease its iron grip.

“Okay,” Shizuo echoed, re-firming his grip on Izaya’s hips before leaning forward and up to capture his lips in another kiss. Izaya kissed back, eagerly looking to rekindle the heat in his belly that he’d smothered with his own self-consciousness. He let his tongue slide over Shizuo’s, let his teeth graze the other’s bottom lip, and as Shizuo’s hands moved from his hips to slide over and then squeeze at his ass, pulling it forward to grind his hips down while Shizuo pushed his own up, Izaya spilled a startled groan of heat into the other’s mouth. Shizuo kissed him harder, like he was trying to swallow the sound straight from Izaya’s lips.

Izaya pulled back to gasp for a breath and then let his lips graze along Shizuo’s jaw, kissing the line of it back to his ear. When Shizuo’s hands left his ass to slide under his jumper and up his bare back, Izaya arched into the contact and leant down to suck a bruise into the other’s neck, right over his pulse. He could feel Shizuo’s blood pumping under the wet slide of his tongue, and could feel it pump harder when he bared his teeth to graze them over the soft skin of the other’s throat. He bit down and Shizuo groaned, letting his nails scrape soft over Izaya’s back - in encouragement or retaliation, Izaya couldn’t tell, but he soothed the print of his teeth with a kiss anyway, before pulling the collar of Shizuo’s T-shirt to side so he could suck another red and purple patch over his shoulder.

One of Shizuo’s hands wandered away from Izaya’s back and around to his stomach, sliding steady up over his ribs and the too-fast breathing in his chest. He jerked when one of Shizuo’s fingers brushed his nipple, then broke away from the other’s shoulder to gasp. Shizuo rolled his thumb over the soft bud with purpose and, this time, Izaya groaned, a little surprised to find such a place so sensitive.

“God,” Shizuo gasped, pressing his thumb harder over Izaya’s chest. Izaya rewarded the action by grinding his hips down onto Shizuo’s again, tensing the thigh pressed against Shizuo’s arousal. “You’re so… hot.”

Izaya huffed a breathless laugh but he could feel all his blood divide itself evenly between his red face and his flushed hard cock - flushing harder still with every word of Shizuo’s praise. It was getting way too hot in his jumper, and his shirt, and his pants, every layer of fabric between him and Shizuo was starting to feel like a burden. Izaya lifted his head and tipped back to stare down at Shizuo; his cheeks were still pink, his lips - swollen and red – were parted on his panting, his pupils were blown wide with lust, and if Izaya looked lower he knew he’d see the trail of bruises marking Shizuo’s pale throat down to the shirt pulled halfway off his shoulder.

He looked irresistible.

Before Izaya could give into the urge to stare any longer, he tipped himself off Shizuo’s lap and shuffled closer to the middle of the bed. He heard Shizuo grunt in surprise and possibly complaint, but before he could complain any further, Izaya turned to face him and gripped the hem of his own jumper and T-shirt to pull both up over his head at once, arching his back and flicking his hair away from his face once his head was free. He threw the clothing over the side of the bed and sat back on his heels.

“Come here,” He said, when it seemed like all Shizuo could do for a moment was stare. The other boy turned and began to crawl towards the centre of the bed; when he was close enough, Izaya reached out to tug at the bottom of Shizuo’s T-shirt and pull it up his chest. Shizuo got the message and raised his arms so Izaya could slide it free and throw it across the room. He took in the rise and fall of Shizuo’s bare chest, lean and pale but still darker than Izaya’s own. His abs were more defined too, and Izaya found his gaze drawn to the line of his hipbones disappearing down into the tented front of his sweatpants. When he reached his hand out to trace along the thin, white scar cutting across the centre of Shizuo’s chest, the other boy let him.

“Admiring your handiwork?” Shizuo mumbled, like the memory of their first meeting left a bitter taste in his mouth, like the mark Izaya’s knife had left on him didn’t fill him with the excited heat it did Izaya.

“Maybe,” Izaya hummed. If Shizuo ever left a permanent mark on him like that, Izaya thought he’d treasure it forever. He let his hand trail lower, over the muscles on Shizuo's abdomen that kept tensing involuntarily at his touch. Once he reached the waistband of Shizuo’s pants, Izaya let his fingers drag down the other’s clothed length and then used the heel of his palm to grind friction against it. Shizuo bucked his hips forward with a gasp and Izaya let his arm fall back to his side with a smile.

He pushed Shizuo’s pillows from the bed and then tipped himself back to lie along the sheets pulled tight over the mattress. Izaya was glad that this time he didn’t have to urge Shizuo forward, the other boy immediately crawled over the bed and in between Izaya’s parted legs. When Shizuo was hovering over him, Izaya reached up to draw his hand through the other’s hair and then pull at the back of his neck until he lowered himself to press his lips to Izaya’s own. Shizuo let his lips linger over Izaya’s for a moment, for two, and then he murmured something that sounded an awful lot like wait against Izaya’s mouth and drew back to look down at him.

Oh, what now, Izaya thought to himself. Of what he’d seen, he was pretty sure sex wasn’t supposed to involve so much talking; talking gave you too much time to think, to reconsider, to lose confidence and build up paranoia.

“What if I hurt you somehow?” Shizuo blurted, brows furrowed like he was in pain. He looked sincere, but Izaya couldn’t help rolling his eyes. How delicate did Shizuo think he was? He’d never once hesitated to throw things or swing punches his way before, and now he was afraid of doing something that was supposed to feel good for the both of them?

“How narcissistic,” Izaya drawled, “Does Shizu-chan really think his dick is so big it’ll rip me in half?”

Shizuo spluttered, facing growing even redder if that was at all possible, and then he growled, a flicker of irritation breaking across his features for a moment. “No, you idiot.” Izaya watched him take a deep breath and force his voice to calm. “I could break your arm just from holding it too hard,” He dropped his gaze away from Izaya’s own, when he spoke again it was almost a whisper, “Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

“No,” Izaya answered immediately, because it didn’t. He hadn’t been scared of Shizuo before, when he was actively trying to kill him, so he certainly wasn’t now. But it made Shizuo nervous, Izaya could see it the pinch of the other’s brows and the weight pulling down at his mouth. So he smiled softly, “I know Shizu-chan will be careful,” He said. When Shizuo looked back up, he grinned. “But hopefully not too careful.”

Shizuo huffed a laugh that sounded only a little bit strained. “Okay,” He surrendered, but quickly frowned again. “Um, I haven’t… done anything like this before,” He mumbled, eyes darting away from Izaya’s face again, “So don’t laugh at me if I do something wrong.”

Izaya thought as much, if Shizuo’d had an interlude with someone from their school, Izaya would have known about it. Even so, he didn’t think it was at all fair that someone could look so endearing when they were actually embarrassed. Izaya chuckled, and then immediately stopped when Shizuo’s eyes narrowed and the shy look on his face hardened into an annoyed one instead.

“What?” Shizuo asked, already defensive. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Izaya just shrugged, “Theoretically I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shizuo’s frown was dipping further and Izaya sighed, hoping that if he found Shizuo’s inexperience endearing then Shizuo would feel the same about him.

“It means I know based on what I’ve seen and read on the internet.” He answered, pulling his gaze away from Shizuo’s to watch the rain slide down over the window next to them.

Shizuo was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke up, Izaya immediately wished he’d stayed silent. “Are you trying to say you’ve seen gay porn?”

With great reluctance, Izaya forced himself to drag his gaze back to Shizuo in front of him. He could feel his face warming but he covered it up with a glare he hoped was still convincing. “Maybe,” He said. “Are you trying to say you haven’t?”

“I haven’t,” Shizuo immediately argued. “I’m not gay.”

Izaya’s glare gave way to disbelief, his brow rose so high he would have been surprised if it was still on his face at all. Shizuo seemed to flush further once he realised what he’d said.

“I mean, I wasn’t,” He tried to clarify, “Or at least I didn’t think I was. Before you.”

Izaya did not know what to think of that. On one hand he supposed it was kind of a compliment, that he’d had the potential ability to turn someone gay, but on the other hand it made him feel more than a little self conscious. Izaya had long since accepted the fact he was physically attracted to Shizuo, and longer still had the time to come to terms with being attracted to boys, but if Shizuo had only just found out, if he’d never even had the chance to make sure he was, then…

What if he decides he doesn’t like me like that?

Izaya didn’t think he could handle that kind of rejection now, was almost positive he’d have trouble laughing it off and brushing it aside if Shizuo realised he really wasn’t attracted to him. The conflicting thought must have been showing on Izaya’s face because Shizuo was frowning at him now, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure out what he’d said wrong.

Izaya groaned and brought his hands up to cover his face. “Is Shizu-chan going to be disappointed when I’m naked and he sees I’m not a girl?”

“The fuck?” Izaya heard Shizuo speak and parted his fingers on either hand so he could look through them and up at Shizuo over him. “Don’t be stupid,” Shizuo said, looking at Izaya like he was exactly that. “I’m already very much aware you’re not a girl,” Izaya made a point of ignoring the front of his own sweatpants still obscenely strained despite his current stress, “And I like you exactly the way you are. If I wasn’t attracted to you then I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

Of course Shizuo would be able to figure out exactly what he was thinking without him having to say it. This time though, Izaya was grateful for the other’s perception.

“Kissing someone and having sex with them are two very different things,” He mumbled from behind his hands, cursing his own self consciousness. If felt strange to say the word out loud, to give voice to the thing they were planning to do.

Shizuo’s face softened, all traces of annoyance gone from his features. He leant forward and brought himself closer to Izaya; when he reached out to grasp gentle holds around his wrists, Izaya let him pull his hands away from his face. “I know that,” Shizuo murmured, “I’m not an idiot.” He pinned Izaya’s hands down by his sides and then reached back out to grasp either side of Izaya’s face. “Now stop worrying about stupid shit and let me prove to you how much I want you.”

Izaya only got the chance to take a shaky breath before Shizuo’s mouth was upon his once more, sliding sweet over his lips and then parting them with his tongue to lick further into his mouth. Izaya lifted his hands from the bed to tangle them in Shizuo’s hair, willing himself to forget everything save for Shizuo’s mouth on his.

Shizuo dropped some of his weight to press his bare chest to Izaya’s and Izaya gasped when their nipples brushed. He released one hand from Shizuo’s hair and wrapped it around his back instead, pressing down to pull them closer while arching himself up. Shizuo broke free from Izaya’s mouth to kiss over his jaw and down his neck, stopping to suck hard at spots on his throat that left Izaya too distracted to bother chiding him for leaving bruises. Shizuo nipped at his collar bone, pressed a wet kiss to the centre of his chest, and when he flicked his tongue over one of Izaya’s hard nipples, Izaya couldn’t help his sharp draw of breath. He dug his nails into Shizuo’s shoulder when the other boy bared his teeth, grazing them soft over the pink nub before gently biting down. The pressure sent a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to his crotch and Izaya only just managed to stop himself from crying out. Shizuo continued to kiss his way down Izaya’s body, letting his lips brush over the still slightly purple skin on some of his ribs before moving to his stomach. Izaya looked down to watch him press careful kisses to the thin scars Shirou had left marring his lower belly and tried not to tremble. When Shizuo’s lips slipped lower, and he brought his hands up to hook his fingers into the waistband of Izaya’s pants, Izaya pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“W-wait,” He stammered, “You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Shizuo cut him off, looking up to lock his dark gaze with Izaya’s own. He didn’t wait for a response, and Izaya could only watch on in slight mortification and a lot of arousal as Shizuo tugged on his sweatpants and underwear to pull them down his thighs. His erection sprang free to lay heavy and full and red-tipped over his stomach, but Shizuo continued to pull his clothes past his bent knees and slip them off his feet before pushing them aside. When he came back, it was to settle himself between Izaya’s open legs with hands on the inside of his thighs to push them further apart and bare more of himself to Shizuo’s view. Shizuo stared down a him and Izaya could feel the other’s gaze rake over every inch of his naked body.

Izaya had never felt so vulnerable, so completely unguarded. He was breathing hard and his head felt dizzy, but the thought of his defencelessness felt like it was flushing him harder. He’d never have imagined feeling so vulnerable would make him feel so hot.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Shizuo’s hands slid up the inside of his open thighs and Izaya felt like sobbing. It was almost too much, Shizuo’s words and Shizuo’s touch, Izaya hadn’t anticipated this making him feel so overwhelmed. Everywhere Shizuo touched felt like it was burning, like his fingers were leaving long trails of fire in their wake.

Izaya was harder than he’d ever been in his life, he thought he was probably shaking too. When Shizuo shuffled himself lower and ducked his head to breathe soft over the inside of his thigh, Izaya felt himself shiver. Shizuo mouthed at his skin, sucked sweet and biting kisses up his shaky leg and hip. Izaya’s breathing stuttered, his stomach fluttered with uncontrollable ferocity, and when Shizuo finally brought his mouth down to the lick a long stripe of friction from the base of Izaya’s cock all the way to the leaking tip, Izaya pulled his gaze away, tipped his head back, and moaned.

Voicing his pleasure made self consciousness curl deep in his stomach, but it also sent his arousal spiking higher, the strange mix of shame and want leaving his breathing so erratic Izaya felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Shizuo’s hands curled over his hips to keep them pressed down to the bed, and when his mouth closed around the head of his cock, Izaya closed his eyes. Shizuo sucked lightly and the pressure and warmth were like nothing Izaya had ever experienced before. It’d been a long time since he’d last bothered to touch himself but Izaya thought that even if it hadn’t, he’d still have little chance of lasting very long. Shizuo took Izaya deeper into his mouth, letting his tongue press hard against the underside of Izaya’s length before tightening his lips and dragging them back up again. When he reached the tip, Izaya felt him lick over the head of his cock and taste the precum already spilling free.

Izaya didn’t dare open his eyes and look down, almost positive the sight of Shizuo’s mouth around him would make him cum instantly. As Shizuo kept moving his mouth over Izaya’s length, going deeper still with every dip of his head, it took everything Izaya had to hold back his impending release, to fight off wave after wave of pleasure and keep from attempting to buck up into Shizuo’s mouth despite the hands at his hips. He very briefly wondered how it was possible for Shizuo to be so good at something he’d never done before — or probably ever even thought about doing for that matter.

When Izaya felt Shizuo swallow around him, he immediately tightened his hand in Shizuo’s hair and the nails in his shoulder to pull him away. “Sh-shizu-chan, you have to stop,” He warned him, a mix of relief and disappointment flooding through him when Shizuo immediately let his cock slip free from his mouth and crawled his way back up Izaya’s body instead. Izaya opened his eyes to look up at Shizuo over him, lips swollen red and hair tangled from Izaya’s hands, and used the grip in his locks to pull him down and kiss him open mouthed. Izaya thought he could taste the salty remnants of himself on Shizuo’s tongue and kissed him harder at the thought.

He pulled back to pant. “Do you have lube?”

Shizuo’s eyes widened and Izaya wondered how he had the ability to look so flustered at the question when just moments ago he’d had Izaya’s dick in his mouth. Shizuo shook his head and Izaya couldn’t blame him for not being prepared, he’d hardly been anticipating this turn of events himself.

“Well, you have to find something to use,” He said, “Like lotion or oil, or even aloe vera.”

“Okay,” Shizuo immediately pulled himself away from Izaya and turned to slide off the bed. Izaya watched him rush out of the room and into the hall so fast he nearly tripped on one of their shirts lying on the floor. He could hear the clatter of Shizuo looking through things in the bathroom and took the spare time to slow his breathing and make himself more comfortable. He leant over the side of the bed to pick up the pillow he’d pushed down there and place it under his head, easing the strain in his neck.

Izaya heard the quick thump of Shizuo’s footsteps returning down the hall before he saw him step inside the room and close the door behind himself. “All I could find was thi-”

Shizuo cut himself off when he looked up to see Izaya still sprawled out over the bed where he left him. Izaya hadn’t moved much, other than to place a pillow under his head and pull one knee up to brace his foot on the mattress, but Shizuo’s face flushed back to bright red like Izaya was posing for a porn mag. He fought the urge to cover himself up by sitting up and reaching out with the intention to grab the tube Shizuo was holding straight from his hand. “That’s fine,” He said, close enough to make out the Aloe Vera label stuck to the front.

Shizuo jerked the bottle away from Izaya’s hand before he could touch it, clutching it to his chest like it was something precious. “I can do it,” He insisted, and it took a moment for Izaya to understand what he was saying. He let his hand drop back to his side and let his body fall back to the bed behind him, the pillow under his head letting out a soft puff of air as he hit it.

“Okay.”

Shizuo knelt over the bed and shuffled back between Izaya’s legs. Izaya drew his other knee further up to brace both of his feet flat on the mattress. He was still painfully hard, the arousal flushing his body hot and skin pink barely had the time to ease back from the edge while Shizuo was gone, and now he could feel it returning full force just from the anticipation of what was to come.

Izaya heard the click of the tube being opened and then closed again. He half expected Shizuo to stop and ask for instructions but he was glad the other seemed to know more than Izaya gave him credit for; if he had to open his mouth, Izaya wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage much more than a whimper. Shizuo placed one hand on the inside of Izaya’s thigh to push it out wider and then his other hand slipped between his legs. Izaya jerked at the touch of cold fingers to his entrance, the chill of the gel such a startling contrast to the rest of his fever hot body and skin. Shizuo rubbed the pad of a digit against the tight muscle and Izaya felt his cheeks flame. He kept his gaze trained up on Shizuo’s bedroom ceiling, and his hands lax at either side of his body, but when Shizuo pushed forward to press his touch inside, Izaya’s hands curled into the sheets under him and all the air left his lungs in a rush.

The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, even if it was strange having someone’s touch that wasn’t his own work its way inside him. Izaya could feel Shizuo press his finger up to the knuckle, the movement made easy and smooth by the gel coating it, and then he pulled it back to drive it forward again with a little more pressure. Izaya gasped at the feeling and heard Shizuo’s breath hitch. The other boy barely managed another thrust with his finger before Izaya was opening his mouth in the hopes of forming some measure of words. “Another,” He managed to get out between one breath and the next. Shizuo hesitated, Izaya could feel it in the motion of his wrist stalling, but he didn’t argue that it hadn’t been nearly long enough, just pulled back to press the tip of a second finger alongside the first and push them both inside Izaya’s body.

Izaya groaned. Shizuo’s fingers were thicker than his own, longer too, Izaya could feel them reach at parts of him that he’d always struggled to manage on his own. He began to push back with every one of Shizuo’s thrusts, grinding himself down on the other’s fingers and angling his hips to help Shizuo try and find that perfect spot inside of him. “U-up more,” He panted. It was a bit of an ambiguous statement, he could have been talking about anything, but Shizuo immediately shifted his fingers inside Izaya’s body, curling them up to press hard at the small bundle of nerves he’d been searching for.

Izaya’s back arched and his toes curled into the sheets under his feet. Every brush of Shizuo’s fingers against his prostate was pushing him closer to the edge once more, was sending heat south to throb in his cock and build deep in the pit of his stomach.

The third finger was a stretch, and even a bit of a burn, but Izaya let himself relax with the intrusion, and when Shizuo began to thrust inside him once more, with what felt like the whole force of his arm, Izaya had to close his eyes. He was so close, just a little more and he’d be-

“Enough,” Izaya gasped out, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut. “I’m ready now.”

Shizuo’s fingers immediately stilled and Izaya’s body ached at being denied release a second time in one night. It will be worth it, he told himself. When Shizuo’s fingers slipped free, Izaya opened his eyes and pushed himself up until he was sitting, just in time to watch Shizuo shove his sweatpants over his hips and down off his legs to throw them aside.

Izaya hoped his eyes weren’t bulging out of his head because that was definitely what it felt like. Shizuo was very hard, his erection standing out from his hips and weeping at the head despite it barely being touched. It made Izaya tingle, the fact that Shizuo’s arousal had reached such heights just from pleasuring Izaya’s own body. His previous paranoia of Shizuo being attracted to him had slowly vanished, but now he was getting nervous for a different reason entirely.

Shizuo was bigger than his fingers, probably bigger than three, and Izaya swallowed convulsively at the thought of fitting him inside his body. He watched Shizuo squirt more of the Aloe Vera gel onto his hand before slicking it over his length. When the other boy glanced up from his movement to catch Izaya’s stare, he quickly let go of himself and ducked his head down. “Stop looking at me like that,” He mumbled.

Izaya gave him a smile that may have been a little too breathless. “But Shizu-chan’s quite the sight.”

“Shut up.”

Izaya tipped himself back to lay down on the bed as Shizuo crawled further between his legs, pressing the front of his thighs to the back of Izaya’s own. Izaya parted his legs wider to let Shizuo get as close as he could. “Is it okay like this, or do you want to turn around and-”

“No!” Izaya blurted before he’d really decided he was going to. Shizuo’s eyes went wide at the sudden outburst and Izaya cursed his fast beating heart. He took a deep, shuddering breath and prayed his voice came out even. “Face to face,” He said.

“Okay.” Shizuo brows furrowed, he was looking at Izaya like he’d just done something strange, but he didn’t press the matter further. Izaya couldn’t have been more grateful, because if Shizuo had asked why, Izaya wasn’t sure he’d have been able to answer him.

Shizuo leant down to hover over Izaya, press one hand to the sheets beside Izaya’s head to hold himself up and let the other push Izaya’s damp hair back from his face. Izaya closed his eyes as Shizuo brought his face closer to kiss him, soft and sweet, before puling back and moving his hand between his legs to line himself up. “Just… go slow,” Izaya warned.

Shizuo nodded quickly, “I will. Make sure you tell me if it hurts.”

Izaya felt the press of Shizuo’s length against his entrance, hot and slick, and tried to relax, to let his body go slack and unresisting to the force of Shizuo’s movement. But it was easier said than done, because everywhere their skin touched was burning and anticipation was curling in his stomach and tensing his muscles in convulsive bursts. Shizuo let the hand lining himself up fall away to grip tight at Izaya’s hip instead, to hold him steady as he pushed his way into Izaya’s body. There was a moment of a resistance, a breath where Izaya wondered if Shizuo was going to fit at all, if Izaya’s body wasn’t going to ease enough for the other to bring them together, but then the tension in Izaya’s body gave way to Shizuo’s strength, the head of his cock slid forward and past the heat of Izaya’s entrance to bury itself inside his body, and Izaya released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Shizuo kept pushing, slowly enough that Izaya thought the other boy must be trembling with the effort of holding back. But he was grateful for the chance to adjust, to breathe through the stretch of Shizuo filling him. Izaya was surprised when Shizuo’s hips pressed flush against the inside of his thighs and he realised the other man was already fully seated inside him; it hadn’t hurt anywhere near as much as he’d been expecting.

The same couldn’t be said for Shizuo.

He was ducked over Izaya like he was in pain, forehead pressed to Izaya’s shoulder and breath coming hard over his collarbone, too hard for the minimal effort it must have taken him to thrust himself inside Izaya’s body.

“Shizu-chan?” He asked, bringing a hand up from where it’d been fisted in the sheets under him to tangle it in Shizuo’s hair instead. “You can move now.”

“Yeah,” Izaya heard him grate out, “Just give me a second.”

Izaya frowned in confusion, when he pushed Shizuo’s hair back from his face, he saw his eyes were squeezed shut. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… trying really hard not to cum.”

“Pfft,” Despite his best efforts and earlier promise to Shizuo, Izaya laughed. When Shizuo jerked his head up from Izaya’s shoulder to glare down at him, Izaya bit his lip to stifle his giggling.

“Shut up,” Shizuo grumbled, clasping his hand over Izaya’s mouth to stem his flow of laughter, and only pulling it back once he’d gone quiet.

Izaya brought his other hand up to curl it around the back of Shizuo’s neck. “Make me,” He whispered, smile soft with his sincerity. Shizuo immediately replaced the cover of his hand with his mouth, pressing it to Izaya’s with bruising force. Izaya kissed back, laving and biting at Shizuo’s lips until the other pulled away to rest both elbows either side of Izaya’s head. Izaya wrapped his legs around Shizuo’s waist and moved his hands to grasp at the back of his bare shoulders. He kept his gaze trained on Shizuo’s as the other boy finally pulled his hips back, sliding almost all the way out of Izaya’s body in a long pull of friction, but as Shizuo thrust forward again to drive himself inside, Izaya’s view of Shizuo over him flickered and blurred. He moaned when Shizuo immediately repeated the motion, his hands scrabbled for purchase on the other’s back. Shizuo began setting an easy rhythm for Izaya to match, each thrust forward had Izaya pushing his hips down to meet Shizuo’s halfway. His heels dug into the other’s back, spurring him on, urging him to move faster, push harder.

One particularly forceful thrust to his prostate and Izaya felt himself clench down on Shizuo inside of him. When Shizuo buried his head in Izaya’s shoulder to groan open mouthed against his skin, Izaya raked his nails down the other’s back and whimpered. God, it felt so good; there was nothing in his life that had ever felt this good before and he seriously doubted there ever would be. Every thrust of Shizuo’s body against him, every sharp snap of his hips had Izaya seeing stars, had his stomach clenching tight and his lungs burning for the air they couldn’t seem to find.

“Fuck,” He blurted, trying to hold Shizuo tighter to himself, trying to force them so close there was no line left between them. “God,” He groaned. Shizuo’s stomach was rubbing against his own cock pinned between them with every thrust, but even without it Izaya thought it wouldn’t have mattered, that the heat in his stomach would still be coiling tighter.

“Izaya,” Shizuo moaned, and then pulled his head back from Izaya’s shoulder to reclaim his mouth. Izaya tried to kiss back, he really did, but it was hard to focus on anything but the absolute pleasure coursing through him with every slick slide of Shizuo’s body into his. Shizuo parted from his mouth look down at him instead and Izaya could barely keep his eyes open enough to stare into Shizuo’s heavy lidded ones over him. “You’re so beautiful,” Shizuo gushed, like he couldn’t help himself. “God, you’re so perfect, you’re so hot.” The words poured out and over him, until Izaya felt like he was drowning, and every breath was just a gasp for much needed air. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

“Shizuo,” Izaya all but sobbed, the pleasure overwhelming him to a point where it was almost painful. It felt like he was choking on every inhale, over heating with every touch. “Don’t stop,” He begged, “Please.” His heart felt like it was going to burst, his chest was tight with a mix of more emotions than he could probably name, than he thought he was even capable of feeling. Shizuo’s pace quickened, his thrusts became more erratic, and Izaya could feel how close the other boy was in the beat of his heart pressed to the opposite side of Izaya’s own. Izaya was close too. There was no way he cold hold back now, someone could be holding a gun to his head and he wouldn’t stop, would barely bat an eye. A strike of lighting flashed across the sky outside, he could see it light up the backdrop of Shizuo over him, bathing him in a glow bright enough to make him look like a god.

“Izaya,” Shizuo panted, “I can’t- I- I’m gonna-”

“Me too,” Izaya blurted, nodding frantically. Shizuo’s back was slick with sweat, but Izaya did his best to hold on as the heat inside him built and built, and then reached an inevitability he couldn’t have escaped even if he wanted to. “F-fuck!” He swore again, every muscle in his body drawing tight, “I’m gonna cum.” Shizuo’s body thrust forward and Izaya’s reality fractured apart. He threw his head back and parted his mouth on a cry as his vision eclipsed to a white so bright he wasn’t sure if he was coming or if he’d just been struck by lightning. Pleasure coursed through him, every nerve ending in his body felt like it had come alight, and even the loudest crack of thunder wouldn’t have made it past the blood pounding in his ears. His orgasm rolled over him in waves, every continuous thrust of Shizuo’s hips forcing another pulse of pleasure from his cock between their bodies. Just when Izaya thought that it was never going to end, that he would be coming forever, the white gave way to Shizuo’s bedroom ceiling and the assault on all his senses eased enough for him to stop holding his breath and gasp for air instead. He came to in time to feel Shizuo’s hips stutter and then jerk against him. Izaya held tight to Shizuo as the other boy groaned, as his cock throbbed with impossible heat and then released inside of him.

Izaya closed his eyes as he caught his breath. His pleasure sated body was completely lax and even the weight of Shizuo’s heavy body falling slack over his did nothing to stifle the bone deep satisfaction settling through him. Past the sound of their joint breathing, Izaya listened to the rain beat down on the glass of the window beside Shizuo’s bed, listened to the low rumble of thunder sounding off in the distance.

The sweat drying over his skin was beginning to cool, but the press of Shizuo’s body kept him warm. He felt like he could have fallen asleep like that, their legs still tangled, their bodies still connected, but all too soon Shizuo pushed himself up onto his hands and then tipped back onto his knees, hands braced at Izaya’s hips as he slowly pulled his softening length free from Izaya’s body. Izaya jerked a little as Shizuo brushed over nerve endings made the more sensitive from his recent release, but then the strain of his body being stretched around the other eased, and Izaya hadn’t expected the retreat to leave him feeling so empty.

Shizuo leaned over the side of the bed to grab at the shirt he’d been wearing and used it to clean the mess Izaya’s release had made of both their stomachs and some of Izaya’s chest. Shizuo trailed the shirt over Izaya’s skin until it was clean, but when his hand dipped lower to between his legs, Izaya pushed himself up to grab at Shizuo’s wrist.

“W-wait,” He said, voice scratchy and raw, “I can do that.”

Shizuo dodged Izaya’s hand by snatching the shirt back to his chest and away from his reaching grip. “No, I want to,” He insisted, and Izaya frowned. God, he could be stubborn when he felt like it. Shizuo took Izaya’s lack of a response as permission and dropped his hand back down between Izaya’s legs to wipe the slow leak of his own release Izaya he could feel trailing out of his ass and down his thighs. He thought this had to be the most embarrassing thing anyone had ever done for him, but Shizuo was cleaning him like he was precious, like he was polishing a diamond, and it just made Izaya’s chest pull tighter, made his face flame hotter.

When Shizuo was finished, he threw the dirtied shirt somewhere across the room. Izaya watched him lean up to turn the lamp by his bedside off before moving to lay down, next to Izaya and in the space closest to the wall. He tugged on the comforter they’d pushed down to the end of the bed and Izaya moved his feet so Shizuo could pull it up over both of their exhausted bodies. The chill that had started to grip him since Shizuo pulled away eased some, and Izaya carefully shuffled across the bed and closer to where Shizuo was laying on his side. There was still some moonlight filtering in through the window beside them, enough for Izaya to make out the features of Shizuo’s face, and every now and then another flash of lightening would bring the rest of the room into greater clarity.

Izaya paused when he was close enough to touch, but Shizuo made up for his hesitation by shifting forward to cover the rest of the distance Izaya had left between them, draping his arm over Izaya’s bare waist to pull him closer. Izaya let his forehead press to Shizuo’s shoulder and the hand not trapped between their chests wrap around Shizuo’s back. He closed his eyes and let his hand stroke down the other’s spine, fingers dipping between each knob of his vertebrae to just above his ass.

“So, how does it feel to not be a virgin anymore?” Izaya teased against Shizuo’s shoulder. When Shizuo laughed, Izaya could feel the huff of it in the other’s chest pressed close to his own.

“Really good,” He said. Izaya could hear the smile in his voice without looking up to see it.
“That’s good.” He let his own lips spread against Shizuo’s bare skin for a moment, and then let them soften to carry a small breath too soft to be a sigh into the nonexistent space between them.
Izaya listened to the patter of the rain, lighter now, like it was easing as the city’s occupants burrowed into bed and settled down for the night. “Thanks,” He murmured into Shizuo’s shoulder at his mouth, “For today.”

Multiple times over the last week or so Izaya kept feeling like he should be pinching himself, just to make sure he wasn’t still living in some over-extended, hyper-realistic dream, but when Shizuo’s hand drifted up from his waist to stroke a strand of hair back behind his ear, Izaya thought it felt real enough. “That’s okay.” Shizuo whispered, pulling back so he could tip down and press a kiss to Izaya’s lips, gentle and firm at the same time. Izaya lingered there, let his lips brush slow over Shizuo’s so as to preserve the moment for as long as possible.

Izaya wondered if Shizuo had fucked him so hard he’d broken a rib, because something was squeezing his heart like it was going to burst.

Chapter Text

Shizuo didn’t want to get out of bed.

He woke slowly; there was no bright light streaming in through the window beside his bed to blind him, no sound of movement coming from downstairs to stir him to consciousness. The sky was grey and cloudy, rain still drizzling, and it made Shizuo feel like he’d woken earlier than what he probably had. The house was silent too, save for the patter of water on his window and the slow, even breaths of Izaya beside him, head tucked into Shizuo’s throat and arm draped over his waist. It was too cold outside the cover of the blankets, Shizuo could feel the chill of the air freezing the skin on his face and the idea of extricating himself from the body beside him and exposing the rest of his limbs to that frigid air had him shivering preemptively.

But he knew he had to get up and get to some paper before the words that’d been floating around his head since he fell asleep last night disappeared entirely; he was lucky enough he still remembered them now. Even so, Shizuo told himself that before he moved he was entitled to a few more moments of indulgence, so he shifted closer to Izaya curled around him and used a hand to stroke the back of the other’s head. Izaya’s breath spilled out over Shizuo’s collarbones, and when he trailed his fingers down the other’s nape, Shizuo felt Izaya’s eyelashes flutter against his throat like butterflies kissing his skin.

Shizuo’s chest was tight, something in his stomach was thrashing around like there were butterflies there too. He ducked his head to the feeling and pressed a soft kiss to the hair over Izaya’s forehead, slowly shifting himself out of Izaya’s embrace and letting the other boy rest heavy over the sheets under them. Izaya immediately curled up over the bed, tipping his head down and bringing his hands up close to his face, like he was trying to gather what warmth Shizuo’s body had left and hold it to himself. Shizuo pulled the comforter further over him, covering the bare shoulder that’d been peaking out.

As he looked down at Izaya, Shizuo tried to remember how the other boy usually acted; the vicious smirks, the snarled insults, the sharp press of his blade. Izaya was still a dangerous person, Shizuo knew that, but staring down at him like this: naked and curled up under Shizuo’s blankets, in Shizuo’s bed, Shizuo thought he didn’t look all that dangerous, just vulnerable and sweet. The idea that he used to hate this same person with a burning passion felt very nearly inconceivable now. The memory of wishing Izaya pain and misfortune felt like it must have belong to another person entirely. Izaya being here now, like this, well, Shizuo couldn’t imagine how he’d ever wished for anything else.

Fuck, a little voice whispered to him through the back of his head, You’re so screwed.

Before he could convince himself to stay and stare any longer, Shizuo carefully crawled over Izaya’s body and let his feet hit the floor. He found his underwear on the ground and immediately pulled them back on, but couldn’t be bothered finding where the rest of his clothes, now tangled with Izaya’s, had gone. He quickly, but quietly, pulled the guitar case resting between his bookshelf and dresser free before laying it over the carpet and unlocking each latch to open it up. He took a seat at his desk chair and pulled the guitar into his lap with one hand, using the other to fish a half empty notebook out of his desk draw and settle it in front of him with a pen.

Shizuo didn’t bother tuning the guitar properly, just set to playing the melody he’d come up with in the music room with Izaya a day or so ago as softly as he could, trying not to wake the other boy still asleep in bed. Shizuo hummed quietly along with the music and stopped every few moments to write down the lyrics he’d been thinking about in an order he thought would suit the song.

It only took a few minutes for Shizuo to pluck one of his strings a little too hard and he looked guiltily over his shoulder at the sound of Izaya shifting. He knew the other boy had trouble sleeping now, and he felt bad that he’d disturbed what looked like a pretty damn peaceful rest. Izaya rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes with his hand. Shizuo quickly went back to his book to finish writing down the last of the words running rampant in his head.

“What are you doing?” He heard Izaya ask from behind him, voice scratchy with sleep. Shizuo closed his notebook and shoved it back into the draw of his desk.

“Just writing some lyrics for our song,” He said, moving to place his guitar back in its case.

“Aren’t you cold?” Izaya twisted on his side to face Shizuo and huddled further into the blankets wrapped around him like the idea of being out of them was making him cold too.

“Yeah.” Distracted by his guitar as he was, Shizuo hadn’t realised how chilled he really was in nothing but his underwear. He closed the lid on his case and pushed it to the side of the room before making his way back to bed, crawling over Izaya and slipping back under the blankets. Izaya turned around to face him again, and Shizuo fought the urge to immediately inch closer and replace the hold he’d had around Izaya before leaving. He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to act now; half of him had expected to wake up to Izaya acting like nothing had happened last night, to being closed off and insensitive, and the other half had kind of expected to wake to nothing at all, to an empty bed and distant memories because the day and night previous had been nothing but a dream. It left him hesitant, unsure where the line was now that Izaya was awake and how close he could come to crossing it before Izaya clammed up.

But it seemed he needn’t have worried because before he could decide how to move his awkward limbs, Izaya was already shuffling forward across the bed and snuggling back into Shizuo’s chest.

“Ah, you’re cold,” Izaya complained once their skin was pressed together, but when he didn’t move back, Shizuo wrapped his arm back around Izaya’s waist and shifted a leg to drape it over Izaya’s own.

“Sorry,” He said as he smiled into his pillow, not feeling very sorry at all. He began to trace circles over the skin on Izaya’s lower back, very much aware that the other boy was still completely naked under the covers and resisting the impulse to let his hand dip any lower. Izaya brought his own hand up to draw fingers along Shizuo’s chest, to the thin scar that’d been marring it for the last one and a half years. Shizuo frowned at the memory of his fist flying towards Izaya’s face, of Izaya’s blade slicing sharp across his skin, of the blood dripping through his fingers and staining the front of his school shirt. He didn’t realise Izaya had tipped back to stare up at him until the other boy spoke.

“Why do you do that?”

Shizuo glanced down at Izaya and frowned further, “Do what?” He asked, trying to find meaning in the other’s words.

Izaya lifted his fingers from Shizuo’s chest to press the point of one between Shizuo’s brows. “Frown,” He answered, and Shizuo immediately tried to ease the furrow between his brows and let the skin under Izaya’s finger turn smooth. Izaya dropped his hand back to Shizuo’s chest and continued tracing the skin there. “You did it before too, when I was touching this.”

Shizuo stopped himself from frowning again. He didn’t like thinking about it, didn’t want to remember the way he’d lashed out for no real reason. “It reminds me how I got it,” He answered honestly, but when Izaya looked back up from Shizuo’s chest to his eyes again, his face scrunched up on confusion, Shizuo thought maybe he should’ve been a little more careful in picking his words.

“Is that a bad thing?” Izaya asked a little incredulously.

“It’s not exactly a day I want to remember,” He said, but he must have said the wrong thing again, because Izaya was frowning now too.

“Why not?”

Shizuo huffed a disbelieving laugh, “You mean aside from being stabbed by you and then getting hit by a truck?”

Izaya just shrugged, like Shizuo’s complaints were trivial and not worth noting. “Sure, aside from that.”

Shizuo tried to relax back in the bed. He had to shift his gaze to a spot on the far side of the room as he spoke. “Well, I don’t like remembering how we met, how I told you I didn’t like you and then lashed out at you for no good reason.”

Izaya laughed and Shizuo carefully drew his attention back down to the other’s face; whatever had been pinching his expression before was gone now, replaced with startled amusement. “And that’s different to all the other times you’ve done that, how?”

Shizuo’s jaw clenched, “They were all shitty,” He said, “But at least any time after that I had a reason. You hadn’t even done anything to me yet the first time.”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “The key word being yet,” He drawled, “I was trying to rile you up, if you hadn’t responded the way I wanted I would have kept pushing until you did.”

That’s stupid, Shizuo thought without saying. The idea that Izaya had been set on sabotaging any kind of constructive relationship between them from the very beginning didn’t make him feel any better.

“Besides, I like it,” Izaya dropped his gaze to follow the motion of his fingers moving over Shizuo’s chest. “It’s like staking a claim, letting the universe know you’re mine.”

Shizuo swore his heart skipped a beat, and he hoped Izaya couldn’t tell from where his fingers were pressed to his breathing in his chest. He never thought he’d hear something like that slip free from Izaya’s mouth, but he tried to brush it off as best he could so the other boy didn’t suddenly retreat and take it back. “Is that what you were doing?” He asked, trying to sound teasing and not entirely sure if he was managing more than breathless.

Izaya laughed again, “Probably not at the time, but it’s how I like to see it now.”

Shizuo smiled a little, but then his fingers trailing over Izaya’s back met the edge of raised skin being pulled together by stitches and he frowned again, opening his mouth before he could think better of it. “Who left this scar on you?”

Izaya’s gaze, warm and satisfied and possessive, immediately closed off, and Shizuo wished he could reach out and drag his words back, stuff them inside his mouth and swallow them down. Izaya pulled away from Shizuo’s embrace and tipped himself to lie along his back, expression blank and unforgiving. “That’s not the same,” He said, and Shizuo thought about arguing, about using the moment he’d already so obviously ruined to extort some much needed information out of the other boy, but then Izaya’s phone buzzed over the beside table and Shizuo was a little relieved he wouldn’t have the chance to do any more damage.

Izaya twisted away from Shizuo to reach over and pull his phone from beside the bed. The display was already lit, the screen bright in the still slightly dim room, and Shizuo's breath immediately caught in his throat when he saw the picture set as the lock screen on Izaya’s phone. “You actually made that your wallpaper?” He asked, staring at the photo Izaya had taken of them at the maid cafe.

“I said I was going to, didn’t I?” Izaya answered flippantly, swiping across the screen to open the message that had garnered his attention in the first place. The photo disappeared and a thread of text conversation replaced it. With Izaya distracted by his phone, Shizuo took the opportunity to shuffle closer to the other’s side and get a better view of the screen. “How annoying,” Izaya mumbled at the message before him. Shizuo could see the backlog of other messages now, all from Shinra, and all in an effort to acquire Izaya’s attention. Shizuo caught brief glimpses of [How was your date!?] and [Izaya!] and [Don’t ignore me!], all unanswered and overlooked. The most recent one was sent as though the others hadn’t been, an invitation for Izaya to come over and spend time at Shinra’s house. Shizuo leant his temple against the side of Izaya’s bare shoulder and watched on as the other boy replied.

[9:41] Izaya: I can’t right now.

Shinra’s reply was immediate, like he’d been waiting with his phone before him since sending his last message.

[9:41] Shinra: Hah! So you are alive!

Shizuo could see Izaya roll his eyes at the response, he answered simply:

[9:41] Izaya: Of course I’m alive, I was just ignoring you.

[9:42] Shinra: How mean :( I wanted the four of us to hang out again like we did when we organised the festival, but this time just playing games and stuff. If you say no I’m just going to come to your house and drag you here :D

Shizuo laughed against Izaya’s shoulder, Shinra’s insistence less irritating and more amusing when it was being inflicted on someone else. Izaya dropped a hand to flick his finger at Shizuo’s forehead without looking, and even though it kind of hurt, Shizuo was glad it seemed like the tension that’d been drawing the other boy tight had dissolved with the distraction.

[9:42] Izaya: Good thing I’m not there, have fun knocking at the door of an empty house all day.

[9:42] Shinra: What?? Where are you then??

“Nosy bastard,” Shizuo grumbled, wondering what Izaya was going to tell him. Izaya very slowly typed out his message and then paused before sending it, as though he was giving Shizuo the chance to protest. Shizuo stayed silent, and then Izaya pressed send.

[9:43] Izaya: I spent the night at Shizu-chan’s.

Shizuo’s heart rate picked up as he watched the little text bubble appear on the screen. It wasn’t like telling Shinra was that big a deal, friends had sleepovers all the time, it didn’t mean he’d automatically assume they’d done anything else.

Shinra’s pause was longer this time, the little dots down the bottom of the screen telling Shizuo the other boy was typing alternated between appearing and disappearing for half a minute.

[9:44] Shinra: No way, I don’t believe you
[9:44] Shinra: You’re just trying to get out of spending time with me >:(

Izaya laughed a little, and then he exited out of the message app on his phone, and opened up the camera one instead.

“The hell are you doing,” Shizuo asked with a warning on his voice, jerking back away from Izaya’s side and out of view of the front-facing camera Izaya was holding up over them.

“Taking a photo for proof,” Izaya chirped, completely unembarrassed. When Shizuo continued to stay back from entering the device’s line of sight, Izaya pouted. “Shizu-chan’s so mean, acting like he’s ashamed to be seen with me.” Izaya’s words were light and airy, his expression unconcerned, but something in Shizuo’s chest still ached at the possibility that Izaya wasn’t really joking. “That’s fine,” The other boy said, “I’ll just take one of myself.”

Izaya raised the phone further up over his face and smiled into the camera, but before he could press the button to capture the photo, Shizuo carefully shifted himself back over the bed and into Izaya’s side. “I’m not ashamed.” He moved an arm under the covers and let it drape across Izaya’s bare chest.

“I know,” Izaya murmured, voice soft and finger paused over the button on his phone, “I was only joking.” But Shizuo could feel the beat of the other’s heart pounding against his hand pressed close to Izaya’s chest. Izaya shifted the camera to centre it over the both of them, and instead of looking up into it, Shizuo leant forward to press his lips to the side of Izaya’s cheek, just over this jaw. Shizuo felt Izaya pause, thought he could see the other’s surprised expression in the reflection of the phone in his peripheral view, but then Izaya threw up a peace sign and flashed a cheeky smile into the camera before pressing the button to capture it. Shizuo heard the click and slowly pulled back so he could get a look at the photo Izaya had taken.

It was sweet and intimate, and made Shizuo’s chest flutter. He’d never taken a photo like that with anyone, never had the opportunity to do engage in something so affectionate, and he couldn’t stand the thought of sharing it, of letting anyone else take a peek inside this special thing they’d created. “Don’t send him that one,” Shizuo quickly blurted. Izaya pouted again, and Shizuo fought the uncontrollable urge to kiss it off his face.

“You don’t like it?” Izaya asked, sounding a little petulant, “I thought it was cute.”

Shizuo huffed against Izaya’s shoulder, but he was still smiling. “It’s because I like it that I don’t want you to send it,” He said. “Send it to me instead and take another one for him.”

Izaya sighed like he was being unreasonable, but when Shizuo glanced at him his lips were curled on a small smile. Shizuo watched him do as asked, texting the photo to his number and then opening the camera back up again. This time Shizuo followed Izaya’s lead and raised one hand to copy the other’s peace sign with a straight face instead of smiling. The resulting photo looked a lot less damning and lot more like themselves, and Izaya laughed at it before sending it off.

Shizuo only realised after the message had gone through that they were both still mostly naked, and probably looked it too. His stomach was fluttering with anxiety, but it was more exciting than anything else, the slow burn of adrenaline reminded him of standing too close to the edge of a building, or waiting at the top of a drop on a rollercoaster.

When there was no response on Shinra’s end for more than a minute, Shizuo began to assume the worst. “Maybe he’s gone into shock,” He said, smiling when the comment made Izaya laugh.

“Maybe,” Izaya agreed, “Whatever’s happened, it think we’ve found the perfect way to keep him from annoying us.” Izaya switched the screen of the phone off and twisted to settle it back over the bedside table; it had only just touched the wooden surface before Shizuo heard it begin to vibrate once more, this time continuously. Izaya sighed, “I knew I spoke to too soon.”

When he brought the phone back into view, Shizuo could see the caller I.D for Shinra glow against the screen. “Just ignore it,” Shizuo suggested.

“I doubt that will stop him.”

“Turn your phone off then.”

Izaya grimaced, “What if he runs all the way here and starts knocking on your door?”

Shizuo frowned, that seemed kind of stupid, but, then again, Shinra could be very persistent at the most irritating of times. “Fine,” Shizuo sighed, “Better answer it then.” Izaya took a breath like he was steeling himself, and then pressed his thumb over the phone and brought it up to his ear.

“Yes?” He spoke into the receiver; when Shinra answered Shizuo was close enough to make out the muffled sound of it coming through from the other side of Izaya’s face.

“What the hell?!” Shinra’s voice was shrill, and Shizuo watched Izaya flinch away from the too loud sound of it at his ear. “I still don’t believe you,” The other boy said, “You definitely photoshopped that.”

Was it really that hard to believe? Shizuo didn’t think so. Shinra was just being very theatrical.

Izaya scoffed like he was offended, “Do you really think I’d have bothered with such a thing.” Shizuo watched him pull the phone away from his face and press a button over it. When he spoke again, it was with the device held out between the two of them. “You’re on speaker now,” He let Shinra know. “Shizu-chan, say hi.”

Shizuo opened his mouth and then closed it again, suddenly struggling for words. When he took too long to answer, Izaya frowned and moved his foot under the covers to kick him hard across the shin. “Ow,” He blurted before he could stop himself, and then quickly mumbled a short hi in the direction of the phone before Izaya had the chance to kick him again.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, long enough that Shizuo began to wonder if Shinra had hung up on them, but then he heard the other boy breathe, a sharp crackle of sound through the speaker. “Wow, I can’t believe this, I thought—”

“Is there something you needed before I hang up on you?” Izaya interrupted Shinra with a drawl.

Shinra immediately broke into pleading, “Yes! Wait, don’t hang up on me!” Izaya waited with his finger hovering over the end call button. “If you don’t have anything planned, you should both come over. I’ve already invited Kadota too. Pleeeease?” Shinra whined, his insistence drawn out and long.

“It’s still raining,” Izaya argued.

Shinra immediately replied, like he’d been expecting Izaya’s answer from the start. “It’ll let up for a bit in a couple of hours apparently, you can come then!”

Izaya groaned, and then turned his head to look at Shizuo. He wasn’t sure if Izaya was looking for his opinion or an excuse to rescue them, but either way Shizuo just shrugged. So long as he got to spend time with Izaya, he didn’t mind where it was.

“Fine,” Izaya finally said, voice flat and eyes narrowed at the screen before him. Shinra started to squeal back, promising them how much fun they’d all have, and Izaya swiped his thumb across the display of his phone it a quick burst if movement, cutting off the other’s speech and hanging up on him halfway through his sentence. Shizuo chuckled a little as Izaya sighed, loud and overdramatic, before suddenly sitting up and letting the blankets pool around his waist. “I need a shower,” The other boy said, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair.

“Okay.” Shizuo stayed curled under the covers and watched as Izaya pushed back the rest of the blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and walking towards the open bedroom door completely naked. Shizuo felt his face heat as his gaze locked onto the other’s bare ass, pale and round; he didn’t realise Izaya had stopped moving until he spoke from where he was paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. “You can join me if you want,” He offered with a smirk, like he could read Shizuo’s thoughts as well as he could follow his gaze; Shizuo fought to keep it steady on Izaya’s face and nowhere else. “You know, to save water.” Izaya disappeared around the doorway and out of Shizuo’s view.

Shizuo waited until he could hear the bathroom door closing, and then the sound of the shower starting up, before he finally pulled himself from his bed and began to power walk out of the room and down the hall.

Chapter Text

The bathroom was already warm by the time Shizuo stepped inside. Hot steam was quickly filling the small space and the sound of water hitting tiles was loud enough to drown out the rain still falling outside. The shower door was closed, the glass foggy, and after closing the bathroom door behind him Shizuo hesitated in moving to strip himself of his underwear. He knew they’d already seen each other naked, that he had no reason to be feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, but something about the situation was making him feel different.

He thought it might have been the light, clear and bright enough to bring everything into startling clarity, to see without shadow. It was different to watching each other under the soft glow of a lamp and moonlight, and Shizuo could already feel self-consciousness starting to take effect. He did his best to push it aside and removed the last of his clothing as well, before stepping up to the closed shower door and pulling to slide it open.

Izaya jerked under the water, like Shizuo’s sudden appearance hadn’t been expected, and Shizuo stilled for a moment, wondering if he’d misread the situation entirely, if Izaya hadn’t actually been serious, but then the other’s eyes softened with recognition, and Izaya smiled while shuffling aside to make room for Shizuo’s presence. The space was small, and once Shizuo slid the door closed behind him, it felt even smaller. Izaya pressed his back against the wall, giving Shizuo the room to stand under the water and slick his hair back from his face. He was doing his best to keep his gaze locked with Izaya’s own, immediately pulling it back up every time it started to drift below his bare shoulders.

“I’m surprised you actually came.” Izaya said, smirking from where he was tilted back against the tiles.

“Yeah?” Shizuo ran his fingers through his tangled hair in an effort to wet every inch of it more thoroughly. “Why’s that?”

Izaya shrugged, but his lips were pulling up into something that looked more like a smile than it did a smirk. “Shizu-chan’s a bit of a prude.”

“What?” Shizuo blurted before he could stop himself, “No I’m not.” He could feel the blood rising to his cheeks, but Shizuo ignored it by closing his eyes and tipping his head up to let water run over his face. “You’re just weirdly confident. Not everyone looks perfect enough to be showing their body off without feeling self-conscious about it.”

Izaya laughed once, sharp and loud, and Shizuo opened his eyes to stare down at the incredulous look on the other boy’s face. “You’re joking, right?” He pointedly let his gaze dip lower, running his eyes down the length of Shizuo’s bare body, and Shizuo immediately turned to leave the other with his back, not that that was much better.

“Hey!” He protested, feeling self conscious all over again. “Stop staring at me.” Shizuo kept his body turned towards the spray of the shower instead of away from it, head ducked down to keep the water from hitting his eyes. With the space as small as it was, he could immediately tell when Izaya decided to take a step closer. He watched the other’s hands come around from either side of his waist and splay over his stomach, felt Izaya’s chest press to his back and mouth move along his shoulder.

“Shizu-chan’s so stupid,” He said, letting his touch trail through the water running in rivulets down Shizuo’s skin, “How can you say someone like me looks perfect and then not think the same about yourself? Shizu-chan looks like he could be a model.”

Shizuo shivered, he could feel his face flaming but decided to blame it on the hot water. “Now who sounds stupid,” He tried to joke, but Izaya’s hands were drifting lower down over his abdomen, his teeth were scraping hard along Shizuo’s shoulder, and coherency was slipping out of his grasp as quickly as the water slipping down the drain.

“Still you,” Izaya chirped, bringing his hips forward to press flush against Shizuo’s ass. Shizuo opened his mouth on a moan before he realised he was going to, the feeling of Izaya’s obvious arousal pressed against him inciting his own without permission. Izaya’s hand slipped lower still, fingers trailing over the dark pubic hair at the base of Shizuo’s cock before finally touching to flushed, hot skin. Shizuo’s hips jerked, and Izaya moved his fingers to wrap them into a hold around his hardening length, pulling up over his skin the same time he ground his own arousal into the cleft of Shizuo’s ass. Shizuo gasped at the feeling, caught somewhere between wanting to push forward into Izaya’s hand, and back against his body. It was new, and confusing, and making him feel just as excited as he was nervous.

Izaya groaned against the back of his neck, a needy sound that sent shivers down Shizuo’s spine. “Shizu-chan look’s really hot like this,” He said. “Maybe one day you’ll let me be the one on top.”

Shizuo shivered again, he thought about telling Izaya to just down it now, that he was already halfway there; one shift in angle and hard push back and he’d be—

Shizuo tried to gather his thoughts and rein in the heat spreading low through his belly. This probably wasn’t the time or place for that, he knew. “Okay,” He said, the single word a commitment he wasn’t eager to take back. He could feel the hitch in Izaya’s breath where the other’s chest was pressed close to his back.

“Really?” Izaya asked, like he couldn’t quite believe Shizuo’s easy capitulation. Shizuo didn’t trust his voice right now, so he nodded his head instead. Izaya immediately released his hold on Shizuo and pulled back away from his body. Before Shizuo could protest the loss of contact, Izaya tugged on his wrist to turn him around.

Izaya’s cheeks were flushed, his lashes and hair inky black. He felt the other’s hands slide along his shoulders before settling at the back of his neck; when Izaya pulled, Shizuo tipped down to press his lips to the other’s smiling ones. Shizuo kissed him slow and sweet, like he was savouring his favourite desert. He let one hand brace at Izaya’s slippery waist, and the other drift down to smooth over one side of his ass. Izaya hummed into the kiss, teeth scraping Shizuo’s lip, only when he decided to bite down did Shizuo return both hands to the other’s waist and use his grip to push the other up against the shower wall. Izaya parted from the kiss with a huff, and Shizuo took the opportunity to rake his gaze over the other boy panting and wet before him.

Izaya’s chest was heaving, his skin so warm that even with the hot water angled away from them Shizuo felt like he was burning. He still couldn’t get used to the idea that he was allowed this: allowed to see, allowed to touch. The bare skin before him, and his free roam of it, was almost overwhelming. He began by letting his fingers drift to Izaya’s hip, down over the outside of his pale thigh, and then back up again. He took note of the purple and red bruises that had blossomed over Izaya’s neck and shoulders from the night last, and brought his mouth down to nibble and kiss at the already tender skin.

Izaya sighed, Shizuo could feel the puff of air warm against his ear. “Shizu-chan’s such a tease.”

Shizuo smiled around the taste of water and Izaya’s bare skin, but when he let his hand at Izaya’s hip drift once more, it was to the heat radiating from between the other’s legs. Izaya gasped at the first press of Shizuo’s fingers against his cock, hips arching forward and head tilting back. When Shizuo pulled up over him, with a grip only a little bit firmer than the one Izaya had offered before, Izaya closed his eyes and groaned. Shizuo repeated the motion, keeping his gaze trained on the other’s face so he could watch the pleasure break over it.

After a few more strokes, Izaya opened his eyes again and dropped one of his hands from Shizuo’s neck to his ass cheek, nails digging into the soft flesh there. Shizuo capitulated to the pressure Izaya was putting on his body and tipped his hips forward to press them flush against the other’s. His hand was caught between them, still stroking up over Izaya’s length, but Shizuo just let his knuckles drag against Izaya’s stomach with every movement, and ground his own arousal onto the other’s body with Izaya’s hand encouraging him from behind.

“Fuck,” Shizuo murmured, hips involuntarily jerking forward to rub his cock against Izaya’s stomach. The friction was nice, but as wet and slippery as they both were, it wasn’t enough. Shizuo pulled back a few inches, and when he pressed forward again it was with his own cock perfectly aligned before Izaya’s; and when he stroked his hand up again, it was with a grip tight around both of them together.

Izaya moaned. When Shizuo tore his gaze away from the mesmerising sight of him stroking both of their bodies together, it was to watch Izaya staring down at Shizuo’s hand too, barely big enough to fit around them both at once. “That’s really hot.”

Shizuo laughed, just a short, breathless huff of heat, and Izaya lifted his gaze to smile back at him. When the other boy shifted to raise one of his legs and wrap it around Shizuo’s waist, Shizuo caught a hand under the soft give of his thigh in an effort to help Izaya balance. He kept stroking, pulling up over the hot skin of their shared arousals and smearing away the precum already leaking free. His hips were bucking forward in short thrusts and his warm breath mingling with the steam around them, fogging the the glass shower door to absolute obscurity.

As Shizuo’s pleasure increased, he watched Izaya’s do the same, fixed his gaze to the open expression visible on the other’s face. Shizuo felt a very nearly uncontrollable urge to say something, to fit words to the swelling in his chest and the burning at the back of his eyes, even if he wasn’t yet sure what it was he wanted to say. If only his heart would slow down a little, maybe the pleasure would subside long enough to form a complete thought. As it was, there was too much blood being pumped away from his brain, making it difficult to think, breathe, swallow, let alone speak.

Touching, he could do that. So Shizuo kept touching: the back of Izaya’s thigh, the slick weight of his cock, and when he leant forward, the open part of Izaya’s lips with his own. Izaya kissed back for some time, one hand tangled into the wet hair at the back of Shizuo’s neck, the other still dug into his ass, but when Shizuo could tell Izaya was starting to near his end, and began mumbling unintelligible words onto Shizuo’s lips instead, he moved to mouth at the other’s jaw and down his neck. His hand was moving faster, gripping harder. His inhales were rasping and wet. Shizuo tipped to rest his forehead on the cool tiles over Izaya’s shoulder, listening to him swear repeatedly and successively. On the next slick slide of skin on skin, Shizuo felt Izaya’s cock pulse under his fingers, felt his thigh tense in his hand, and then listened to him press his head back against the tiles and moan.

Shizuo kept stroking Izaya through his release all the while still chasing his own. Only once Izaya had trembled through the last of his orgasm, did Shizuo buck up into his grip and spill over his fingers, the pleasure forcing a groan from his lips in the shape of Izaya’s name.

Shizuo let himself relax, his head pressing heavy to the tiles before him and his grip on Izaya’s leg slack, but as the intensity of his climax ebbed away and some measure of thought came back to him, Shizuo realised too late that he may have let himself relax too much, too quickly. Izaya’s weight was still mostly being supported by his own, the other’s shoulders were tipped back and slumped against the shower wall, his only bracing leg angled out wide over the wet tiles, and slowly slipping wider.

“Shit,” Shizuo blurted when Izaya’s foot slipped out from under him completely and all his weight fell to the grip Shizuo had on his thigh. Shizuo stumbled a little, his own balance too precarious to take the sudden weight, and even a hand thrown out to grip helplessly at the slick shower wall did nothing to save him from falling gracelessly to the tiles beneath them. Izaya hit the ground first, he was so relaxed Shizuo thought he might not have even registered the fall until he met the ground with a hiss. Shizuo fell beside him, landing on his hip in an effort to not squash Izaya under his weight. He groaned at the bruising impact, so exhausted he could barely find it in himself to push back up.

He managed after a moment or so, blinking away the spray of the shower falling directly over his head. “Fuck. Sorry,” He mumbled, turning to face Izaya sitting beside him, already rubbing at a spot on his back. Shizuo caught the other’s gaze, and watched the slightly surprised look on his face melt away into a quirk of his lips, and then a breathless huff of laughter. Shizuo followed suit, like the other’s amusement was contagious. He laughed at the state of themselves sprawled out on the shower floor, at the bruise he could feel rising to his hip, at the flush still decorating Izaya’s face and chest. And then somewhere along the line, he was laughing because he was happy, because Izaya was laughing too.

Shizuo’s amusement slowly filtered out when he felt the water cooling — not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to know their time was precious. He pushed himself up from the tiles on shaky legs, and then reached down to offer Izaya his hand, gripping tight around the other’s wrist and hauling him to his feet. Izaya found his balance quickly, and then immediately moved to step under the spray of the shower and rinse his body free of any evidence from their activities. When he began to linger, long enough for Shizuo’s skin to chill, and for the shampoo he’d massaged into his hair to itch, Shizuo grumbled, “Quit hogging all the water.”

Izaya smirked from under the spray, but he made no move to step out of it until Shizuo forced his way into the other’s space, using his hips to shove Izaya out from under the water. Izaya gave up easily, moving to lean against the tiles and steal some of Shizuo’s shampoo to massage into his own hair while he waited. Shizuo finished rinsing and let himself indulge in once last still moment under the warm water before extricating himself and letting Izaya take his place.

He slid open the shower door and stepped out into the bathroom, not intent on waiting ‘till he was cold again to dry off. Pulling his towel from the rack drilled into the tiled wall, Shizuo set to work on soaking up the droplets still clinging to his skin and hair. By the time he finished he heard the squeak of the shower tap twisting, stemming the flow of water to a stop, and watched Izaya step dripping out of the shower. He finished tying his own towel around his waist before pulling a spare one from the hook behind the door, grasping a corner in each hand and spreading it out wide in front of himself.

Izaya’s expression twisted on a funny look, but when Shizuo made it obvious he had no intention of moving, the other boy took a few careful steps forward, close enough for Shizuo to meet him the rest of the way and lean forward to wrap his arms and the towel around Izaya as one. He pulled the edges tight around Izaya’s back, effectively trapping the other boy in the material and his hug. When Izaya huffed a breath through his nose, Shizuo could feel it blow over his shoulder. “Shizu-chan’s making me feel like I’m a little kid.”

Shizuo smiled before pulling back with the towel still in hand. Instead of handing it to Izaya, he draped it over the other’s head and began drying his hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” He said, pointedly ignoring Izaya’s grumbled protests from under the material. When he pulled the towel back Izaya was scowling, hair mussed, brows drawn low, and Shizuo thought he really did look like a little kid. He laughed a little, but finally handed the towel over so Izaya could continue the task of drying his hair properly.

Izaya’s back was facing the mirror across the bathroom, set in over the sink, and so when Shizuo’s gaze caught at the reflection of it, he was granted a mostly unobstructed view of the stitches still set into the other’s back. They looked better than the last time Shizuo remember seeing them, less angry and red. “When do you get the stitches out?” He asked. Izaya pulled the towel from his head to glance behind him and watch where Shizuo’s gaze was fixed.

He turned back with a shrug,” Don’t know yet. I’m sure Shinra will tell me today.”

Shizuo tore his gaze away when Izaya impeded his view by draping the towel over his shoulders. “I’ll go get your clothes from the dryer,” Shizuo said, turning away to open the door of the bathroom and step out into the hallway. The rest of the house was still cold, and so Shizuo made his trip to the laundry room quick in the hopes of getting back and dressed before he lost all of his remaining body heat.

Izaya’s clothes looked too small when Shizuo pulled them from the dryer, but he thought the other boy had always been so skinny, and his clothes, so tight, that he couldn’t be sure if he’d shrunk them or if they’d always been that size. The bathroom was empty when Shizuo walked past, so he continued on to his bedroom instead, turning into the doorway and stepping inside to find Izaya sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around his chest and his towel wrapped around his hips. “Here,” He said, dropping Izaya’s bundle of clothes onto the bed beside him.

“Thanks.” Izaya immediately moved to begin changing, picking his underwear out of the pile to pull up under his towel, and his shirt to slip on over his head. Shizuo turned away to rummage though his own draws for something to wear, eventually settling on a pair of jeans that used to be as dark as Izaya’s own but had now faded to grey, a T-shirt for some anime he used to like when he was younger, and an oversized, hooded jumper. When he finished changing he found Izaya wearing his furry coat zipped up at the front, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Come on,” Shizuo said by way of catching Izaya’s attention, “We can have a hot drink before we leave for Shinra’s.”

Izaya stood on sock clad feet and followed Shizuo out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the living room. Shizuo gestured for him to take a seat on the couch while he ducked into the kitchen to begin making their drinks. “You can watch TV if you want,” He called, pulling two mugs from a cabinet and setting them on the bench. He paused before continuing on any further, realising he’d forgotten to ask an important question, “Oh, and what do you want to drink?”

“Hmm, whatever you’re having is fine.”

Shizuo pulled a bottle of milk from the fridge. “I’m having hot chocolate.”

“Oh.” Izaya said slowly, like he was mulling over the options anew. “In that case, I’ll have tea.”

Shizuo smiled, “Okay.”

Once he finished making their drinks, he began to very carefully carry them across the space to where Izaya was sitting on the couch, passing the other’s off with a slightly shaky hand before taking a seat himself. Izaya had turned the TV on, the newscaster was talking about the damage the typhoon had done last night and its course for the next two days. Shizuo watched with mild interest, and when the subject drifted off into politics, and Izaya changed the channel to some sort of kids cartoon, he watched with even less. His attention was on the boy beside him, he kept trying to glance over in between sips of his drink without being too obvious, but eventually made the decision to just stare with his head slightly turned, so he could watch Izaya instead of what was on the TV.

He got away with it for a short time, while Izaya’s attention was still fixed on the screen. Shizuo watched him smirk at something one of the characters did, saw the way skin around his mouth crinkled before smoothing back out. Izaya lifted his mug to press against his lips. He’d just taken a sip and brought it back down from his face when the weight of Shizuo’s gaze must have become heavy enough for him to notice. He turned to catch Shizuo’s stare, a concerned frown on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me?”

Shizuo’s eyes widened at being caught. He opened his mouth to speak even though he had yet to come up with a good excuse, but before he had the chance to form sound, something else began to do it for him. Shizuo flinched a little at the phone vibrating in the back of his jeans, and the high pitch, electronic ringing that came along with it. He averted his gaze and pulled it free, distantly thankful for the distraction. The caller I.D for his mother stared back at him, and he briefly debated whether or not he should answer it before deciding it was as good an opportunity as any to escape their conversation.

“Hey,” Shizuo answered with the phone to his ear, already moving to stand from the couch, “What’s up?”

“Shizuo,” His mother’s voice came soft through the line, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Shizuo walked out of the living room and stood by the edge of the kitchen. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“We heard this morning that the typhoon hit Tokyo a lot worse than it did here,” She explained. Shizuo hadn’t really taken a look at the state of outside, but he didn’t think it’d been as bad his mother was making it out to be. Then again, he had been pretty much dead to the world for most of the night. There was no telling how much worse it’d gotten while he was asleep. “I was worried that you might have blown away with the house.”

Shizuo laughed a little. “No, I’m fine,” He reassured her, “And the house is fine.”

“That’s good,” She hummed. And then, “Did you have fun with your friend yesterday?”

Shizuo froze. His heart began to beat wildly in his chest. For a moment he couldn’t grasp hold of reason, just knew that somehow his parents had found out what they’d done last night, and then his mother’s voice came gentle through the phone again, and through Shizuo’s unnecessary panic, he remembered telling her how he was planning to spend time with a friend yesterday afternoon.

“Y-Yeah,” He stammered, “It was good.”

He remembered how his parents had been disappointed, and a little angry about his outburst at school, but when he’d told them he had plans to go out with someone after school, they’d been so shocked, and possibly even happy for him, that they’d encouraged him to go even after he’d offered not to as punishment.

“I’m glad. I was a little worried you’d get caught in the storm while you were out.”

Shizuo took a deep breath. “Yeah, we did a little, but we made it back just before it got too bad.”
He didn’t mention that it had actually been pretty exciting, running through the streets, hand in hand like they were being chased by the storm itself.

“You both did?” Namiko asked. “Did they stay the night?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo answered carefully, “The rain was still really bad so I said they should stay.”

There was silence for a moment, and then his mother seemed to take a louder than usual breath before speaking. “Shizuo, you don’t have a girl over do you?”

“What?!” Shizuo blurted, a little too loud. “No mum, I don’t have a girl over,” He hissed into the microphone, and then remembered Izaya in the room just over. He lowered his voice. “It’s just a friend.”

Shizuo felt his stomach sink a little before the words had even left his mouth. He didn’t like lying, and especially not to his parents, but he really wasn’t ready to have the conversation that would come with saying anything else right now.

“Hmm, Okay. If you say so.” It was hard to tell without looking at her face if she believed him or not, but for the sake of Shizuo’s ease of mind, he decided to pretend she did. “Well, Kasuka’s camp has been cut short from the storm, so we’ll be back this afternoon instead of tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Shizuo said, “I’ll see you then.”

“Alright, have fun. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

The line clicked off and Shizuo shoved the phone back into his pocket with a sigh. He stepped around the wall separating the living room from the kitchen and made his way over to where Izaya was still seated on the couch. “Sorry,” He mumbled as he took a seat. His drink had cooled, but Shizuo took another sip anyway.

Izaya shrugged, his flat gaze fixed on the TV in front of them. “You don’t need to apologise,” He said, “It’s none of my business what you decide to tell your parents.”

Shizuo frowned, confused by the other’s response and how it at all related to what he’d been apologising for, but then he realised.

“You were eavesdropping.”

Izaya did look away from the screen then, turned his head to narrow his eyes at Shizuo beside him. “No, I wasn’t eavesdropping,” He sneered with a surprising amount of venom, “You talk so loud I would have heard you from upstairs.”

Shizuo was sure that wasn’t true, knew he’d been trying to be discreet, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Izaya had heard and, despite how he was trying to act, he didn’t look very happy about it. If there was one thing Shizuo had come to learn over the past couple of weeks, especially the past couple of days, it was that when Izaya was like this: cold, and biting, and a little bit cruel, when he acted like he didn’t care, it was because he was hurt, it was because he did. What Izaya must have thought was his ultimate disguise, a mask to cover all he was feeling, Shizuo thought was actually his biggest tell.

But he wouldn’t say that, because if there was another thing he’d learnt about Izaya, it was that he couldn’t handle being made to feel weak. And for Shizuo to tell him he knew how he lied when he was hurt, how he pushed back because what Shizuo said mattered, was like pressing his face to the curb and kicking him in the back of the head.

It made it difficult to interact sometimes, like every time Shizuo spoke he had to be careful where he stepped, but knowing these things made it easier to not get so angry, made it easier to understand, and it also made it easier to apologise when sometimes he thought he shouldn’t really have to.

“I’m sorry,” Shizuo said again, this time with a little more sincerity. “I didn’t—”

“I told you it’s fine,” Izaya cut him off, turning back to the TV, “I really don’t care.”

Shizuo’s jaw clenched. “Could you let me finish please?” He managed to grit out. When Izaya didn’t answer, he sighed in an effort to relax. “Look, I was obviously lying. I know you’re more than just a friend, but I really didn’t want to have to tell them that I’m… gay over the phone.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling very tired. “I just wanted to wait until I was ready to say something, is that really so terrible?” He asked.

“No, it’s not.” Izaya answered with a flippant wave of his hand. “That’s why I said it was fine.”

Shizuo could still see the tension pulling Izaya’s shoulders tight, the frown twisting his lips, and knew he didn’t mean it. He was trying not to get too annoyed, but he could help but feel like Izaya was being unreasonable. “What, it’s not like you’ve told your dad, have you?”

Izaya turned to narrow his gaze at Shizuo once more. Shizuo thought his eyes looked a little darker this time. “That’s different,” He said, tone a warning Shizuo ignored.

“How?” He pressed.

Izaya rolled his eyes. “Because I don’t care what he thinks. His opinion on the matter would mean absolutely nothing to me so there’s no point in even mentioning it to him.”

Shizuo frowned further. “If it doesn’t matter what he thinks then you shouldn’t have a problem telling him.”

Izaya sighed and brought a hand up to rub at one of his temples, like the conversation was giving him a headache. “No, Shizu-chan, you don’t understand. It’s not worth telling him because he’s unpredictable. He might tell me he couldn’t care less, or he might try to drop a car on me. There’s no way to know for sure and so — because it doesn’t matter anyway — it’s not a risk worth taking.”

Shizuo felt like he should be addressing what Izaya just said, should be pushing him to continue the conversation in that particular direction because this was one of those rare times where he opened up about his home life, even if it was a little unwillingly and just to prove a point, but Shizuo also knew it was more important that they addressed their current issue, that they cleared this up before Izaya got some ridiculous ideas about how he thought Shizuo felt lodged in his head, and then Shizuo had to dig them out with a fucking pickaxe down the track.

“Well, how is that not the same for me?” He asked. Shizuo liked to think his parents wouldn’t be the same, that they loved him enough — despite his already obvious abnormalities — to not react so irrationally, but he was still scared.

Izaya let his hand drop back to his lap. His eyes weren’t narrowed anymore, and he didn’t look angry. He looked serious. Maybe even a little bit honest. “It’s different because you care about what your parents think, and so for you to not want them to know means you think you’re doing something wrong. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Shizuo felt his eyes widen at the honesty he wasn’t sure Izaya knew he was spilling free. Then again, maybe he did, because as soon as the words left his mouth he grimaced and turned away. Shizuo could see his hand clenched tight around the mug in his lap.

“You know I don’t think that,” He said softly, a little surprised Izaya could still feel so insecure about how he felt after everything they’d already done together. “But you have to get that because I do care about what my parents think, I’m scared of how they’ll react, but that doesn’t mean I won’t tell them, and it doesn’t mean that whatever they decide to do or say will change the way I feel.” The urge to reach out and touch Izaya’s hand was there, but his closest one was still wrapped around his cup, so Shizuo let his own sit still in his lap. “Besides,” He continued, “I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me telling other people, hell I wouldn’t even really know what to tell them. We haven’t exactly talked about what we’re doing.”

Izaya groaned, “That’s because these sorts of conversations are so tedious.” He lifted a hand to cover his face, but Shizuo could still see the colour on his cheeks. He felt his own flush a little, but he powered on, because this needed to be done. And as insecure as this topic made him feel, he thought he was a little more capable of talking about it than Izaya probably would be. He fiddled with the handle of his cup.

“So, what should I tell people?” He kept his gaze fixed on the brown liquid in his mug, probably completely cold by now. “That we’re dating? That you’re my… boyfriend?” Shizuo rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck, why does this feel so embarrassing,” He muttered to himself.

He heard Izaya huff a quiet laugh, and it encouraged him to look up from his drink to face him. He seemed to have relaxed a bit, like Shizuo’s struggling really did make him feel better about his own.

“You can tell people whatever makes you feel comfortable, seeing as you’re the one that seems to care so much about what other people think of you.”

Shizuo tried to tell if Izaya was still being an ass, but the answer seemed fairly genuine, like he really didn’t care about what other people thought, and the fact that Shizuo did was something of an anomaly. Shizuo thought that, if that was true, then Izaya wouldn't have put up so much resistance just to getting their relationship to where it was now, he wouldn’t have made an attempt to sabotage what friendship they’d already formed, and he certainly wouldn’t have thrown a hissy fit over Shizuo telling his parents he was home with a friend.

But once again, Shizuo knew well enough to leave those things unsaid.

“Fine. Then I’ll tell people you’re my… boyfriend.” The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth, the fact that he was talking about Izaya aside. He never really thought he’d have a boyfriend. It didn’t bother him per se, he thought it would just take some getting used to. He watched Izaya carefully for his reaction, still constantly expecting him to point and laugh about how easily he’d just been tricked, still a little less than ready for his reality to crumble out beneath him.

Yeah, maybe could understand why Izaya still sometimes felt the way he did.

But Izaya just smirked, “You don’t have to say it like it’s a death wish.”

Shizuo smiled. “I’m not.” He shuffled closer across the couch. When he leant down to carefully bridge the distance between them, Izaya tilted his head up to meet him, closing his eyes before their lips had even touched. Shizuo let their lips graze, gentle and slow. When he pulled back, Izaya made a funny face and poked his tongue out from his mouth.

“Bleh,” He said, “Too sweet.”

Chapter Text

Shizuo watched Izaya knock twice at Shinra’s door; the second rap of his knuckles barely having enough time to land before the wood in front of them was being ripped open and inwards with a haste that left the other stumbling back, clenched fist still raised. Shizuo helped him regain his balance with a hand at his lower back and Shinra appeared in the doorway.

“You’re here!” He chirped, looking much too excited for Shizuo’s comfort. “Come in, come in.” Shinra stepped aside and motioned them through. Shizuo very reluctantly followed Izaya’s lead, toeing off his shoes in the entryway and lining them up beside Izaya’s own. Kadota was already there, sitting cross legged over the carpet, and Shizuo waved to him with a ‘hey’ as they entered. He took a seat beside his friend, letting his legs stretch out in front of him and his hands support his weight behind him. Izaya let himself drop to the ground closer to Shizuo’s side than what was probably necessary — considering Kadota’s worried glance in his direction — but Shizuo decided he didn’t really mind.

Shinra finally returned from where he’d briefly disappeared to the kitchen. He passed around glasses of water and took a seat between Izaya and Kadota, kneeling to lean back on his heels and complete their oddly shaped circle. He was smiling too much and staring too often. It was starting to annoy Shizuo but he kept his hands in the front pocket of his jumper so no one could see them when they clenched into fists.

“So, how is everyone?” Shinra asked with eyes too bright, and a grin too wide. He looked like he was twitching, like he’d had one too many coffees this morning, but Shizuo knew he was just eager to blurt out all the questions he should have been keeping to himself, and Shizuo settled him with a glare just to make sure he did in fact know he should continue to keep them to himself. Shinra laughed a little and scratched the back of his head.

“I’m kind of bored actually,” Izaya sighed. He began undoing the buttons and drawing down the zipper at the front of his coat. “And wondering why you bothered calling us here if we’re just going to sit around like schoolchildren.”

Shizuo thought that might have been a little harsh, but when Shinra pouted, and Shizuo had something to look at that wasn’t his creepy grin, he decided a little harsh might have been okay. “We’re going to do stuff!” The brunette defended himself. “I just wanted to ask how your date went fir— IS THAT A HICKEY!?”

Shinra’s voice was practically a squeal, and Shizuo immediately turned his head to find Izaya frozen with his coat off one shoulder and halfway down the other. From where he was sitting he could see the purple and red bruises blotchy over Izaya’s pale neck. Some disappeared down under the collar of his shirt, but most were in clear sight. Shizuo discreetly tugged the hood of his own jumper farther up his throat.

Shinra rushed forward across the carpet on his hands and knees to get a closer look, and Izaya instinctively leaned back. Shizuo was ready to tell him to back off, to leave him alone, but after the initial shock of Shinra’s squeal seemed to have worn off, Izaya didn’t look all that annoyed, mostly just amused. Shinra brought a hand up to poke at the bruises on Izaya’s neck and Shizuo sipped his glass of water for something to focus on that wasn’t what was happening right now.

“Jesus Shinra,” Izaya laughed a little, when Shizuo flicked his gaze over he saw Shinra trying to pull the edge of the other’s shirt aside and off his shoulder to grant himself a better view, “Did you want me to strip down so you can see the one’s on my thighs too?”

Shizuo choked on his drink, like really choked. The small sip he’d taken went straight through his windpipe and rattled in his lungs. He coughed once, twice, the sound wet and raspy. He wondered why every time he got himself involved in an embarrassing conversation, he thought it a good idea to take a drink of water. He really should have learnt better by now.

“Look, you’re embarrassing poor Shizu-chan.” Izaya was smiling around the words and Shizuo wondered how he wasn’t embarrassed, how stuff like this never seemed to affect him in the least. Shinra pulled his hand away from Izaya’s neck and sat back on his heels. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide.

“Wow, so you really did it?” He asked in awe, looking between the two of them like he was dreaming.

Now Shizuo really was annoyed. He placed his glass on the ground with enough force he was surprised it didn’t crack. “Can we please not have this conversation?” He grit out from between clenched teeth. Shinra opened his mouth again like he was about to say something, but the sound was replaced with Kadota’s voice to his right.

“Okay, can I just ask, what the hell is going on?”

All eyes turned to the confused looking boy. Kadota glanced between the three of them with his brows furrowed and small frown on his face. “Why am I the only one that’s very confused?” He asked. “Or am I missing something here?”

Everyone was silent for a moment, confused on their own. Izaya was the first to speak, “Uh oh,” He said, “Dota-chin’s been left out of the loop.” Kadota frowned further, he was starting to look a little upset.

“Huh? You don’t know?” Shinra asked cluelessly. He turned away from Izaya to face Kadota fully. “Shizuo and Izaya spent the night together after their date yesterday.”

Kadota’s eyes widened and Shizuo watched him blink a few times, like he was checking to see if he was still awake. “Wait, hold on,” He said, “You guys are dating?” The words were dripping disbelief, as was his expression. And through the embarrassment, and the flames he could feel engulfing his face, Shizuo suddenly felt very guilty. Of course Kadota didn’t believe them, Shizuo was one of his best friends and he hadn’t even bothered to tell him. Kadota’s searching gaze stopped at him and Shizuo tried very hard not to flinch away from it. “Are they joking?” He asked.

Shizuo flicked his eyes to Izaya, but he was pointedly looking away from Shizuo and off in another direction. “No,” Shizuo finally managed to get out. The word was rough and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “He’s not joking. We’re dating now.” The confession came more easily than he thought it would, his words didn’t shake and his voice didn’t falter.

“Right,” Kadota said slowly, no doubt still struggling to wrap his head around everything. “And just to make sure, this is still the same universe where you two used to hate each other, right?”

“Yes, it’s the same universe,” He sighed. Was is it really so hard to believe they’d had a change of heart? That after everything, they’d learnt to get along? Shizuo thought maybe he should have been offended that everyone so obviously deemed him incapable of change.

“Since when?” Kadota asked.

“Only a couple of days ago,” He answered, thinking back to the argument he’d had with Izaya that had somehow ended with him levelling a concrete wall and organising a date with the other boy at once. He hoped the short amount of time that’d passed since then made up for the fact he’d kept it to himself. “We hadn’t really talked since then, that’s why I didn’t tell you.” It was a flimsy excuse and Kadota must have thought so too.

“You could have messaged me,” He argued, but then sighed. “It’s fine, at least I know now. Um, congratulations I guess? I’m happy for you even if I’m still a little confused.”

Shizuo didn’t think he had to make it sound like they were getting married, but he was still grateful for the other’s acceptance. He’d been a little worried about how Kadota would react, and while he still had a crease between his brows and a confused frown on his lips, it wasn’t the outright disgust or contempt Shizuo had half-feared.

“Well now that that’s sorted out, and we’ve seen the very obvious evidence that your date went well, let’s play some games!” Shinra’s bubbly suggestion helped break the tension and Shizuo watched him move over to the TV to turn it on and begin setting up his video game console. Kadota was still looking between him and Izaya with a strange expression. Shizuo could see him staring at the marks on Izaya’s neck before Izaya tugged the collar of his shirt further onto his shoulder and Kadota looked away.

They relocated closer to the TV. Shizuo took a seat on the small couch beside Kadota while Izaya and Shinra sat themselves on the carpet closer to the screen. Shinra fiddled with the console for some time, loading a disc into the slot and setting up the game on screen. When the bright colours and chirpy music came alive before him, he saw the game was Mario Kart, they same one he had at home. There were only two controllers and so Shinra took one for himself and offered the other to whoever wanted a go first. No one made any move to answer, and so Shizuo put his hand out and took the controller from Shinra’s grip. He needed something to distract himself anyway. His gaze kept straying to the marks on Izaya’s neck and the way they stood out stark from the colour of his skin. He didn’t like that everyone else could see them and he thought about telling Izaya to put his coat back on, but if he’d taken it off because he was hot, Shizuo didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

Shizuo chose his character and his vehicle without much thought. Neither really mattered in the end, he’d still beat Shinra by miles. “Good Luck Shizuo-kun!” Shinra lilted from his spot on the carpet. The tone of his voice was mocking and Shizuo vowed to make the other boy eat his words. The countdown for the race began, Shizuo pressed down on the button for the accelerator before it finished and then watched his cart take off at the mark to go.

He was right, he beat Shinra by nearly half a lap. He spent most of the race in first and finished that way too. He decided the many hours he’d spent playing with his brother and inevitably losing over the years finally counted for something, just seeing the defeated pout on Shinra made it worth the effort. “Man,” The other boy whined, “And for some reason I thought I was actually good at this game.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” Shizuo said with a self-satisfied smile. He leant back into the couch. “We can go again if you want and I’ll only try half as hard.”

“Wow,” Shinra laughed, “How arrogant. You really have been spending too much time around Izaya.”

“Hey.” Shinra jerked when Izaya reached out to jab his fingers into the other’s ribs. “That’s not very nice.”

“Hahaha, stop.” Shinra giggled when Izaya moved his fingers. He tried to wrap one arm protectively around his torso and use the other to push Izaya’s hand away. Izaya relented eventually, a small smile quirking his lips. “Well, I guess the next person should verse the winner,” Shinra sighed. He held the controller out for anyone’s taking. “Who wants to go next?”

“Dota-chin can,” Izaya said. “I want to go last.” Shizuo stared at Izaya’s profile with slightly narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what he was planning. It could just have been that he’d never played before, and wanted to have the opportunity to watch everyone first to see how it was done, or maybe he was gathering intelligence, making a list of everyone’s weaknesses in the way they played so he could exploit them later. It sounded a little far fetched and over the top but that was exactly why he thought it was something Izaya would do. Izaya caught his calculating gaze and met it with a cheeky smirk.

The controller was passed off to Kadota and Shizuo readied himself for another game. He changed his bike and character again, even though he knew he didn’t need to. It was a closer race this time; there were a few moments where Shizuo thought he’d be overtaken, but he eventually came out in front, if only by a small stretch. “Damn,” Kadota sighed. He handed the controller over to Izaya who accepted it delicately.

“Just because you’re dating now doesn’t mean you can go easy on him, Shizuo.” Shinra twisted back to warn him.

Izaya scoffed. “Shizu-chan would never do something so boring.” Shizuo watched him spend an irritating amount of time deciding on his character and the build of his cart, like both were imperative to his win. When he finally finished, and the countdown started, Shizuo gripped his controller a little tighter; the plastic creaked under the pressure of his hands and he forced himself to ease it. Izaya always brought out his more competitive side, sharpened his instinct; racing him in a video game was like racing him for real, in the streets of Ikebukuro or around their school. The starting buzzer went off and Shizuo had been so caught up in his will to win that he’d forgotten to hold down the accelerator and completely missed the starting boost.

Izaya flew ahead him, but Shizuo decided he didn’t need the head start anyway. It was more difficult to catch up to Izaya than he’d thought it would be. He played how he ran, finding shortcuts that should have been impossible and dodging things at the last minute — leaving Shizuo to run into them instead. It was on the second lap that Shizuo got close, he was in second place and making every effort to get ahead. Izaya had his back to him, was sitting with complete focus on the screen in front of him, and Shizuo spared a moment of his own focus to reach out with his sock-clad foot instead. His toes touch Izaya’s side and Shizuo curled them in an effort to thwart the other’s win with ticklish distraction.

“Hey!” Izaya laughed, jerking to the side away from Shizuo’s foot. On the screen his character swerved to the right and came dangerously close to falling off the edge of the track. “Stop cheating, you brute.”

Shizuo grinned and didn’t move his foot. Izaya tried to slap it away but when that proved useless he shuffled forward on the ground and out of Shizuo’s reach. It left him too close to the screen, his head tilted up at an angle that couldn’t have been comfortable, but still he stayed ahead of Shizuo in the game. By the end of the third lap Shizuo had mostly given up and accepted his defeat. Izaya crossed the finish line a few seconds ahead of him and the screen told him he’d lost.

“Yes!” Shinra cheered, like he’d been the one to win the race. With Shizuo’s feet no longer a threat, Izaya shuffled back from the TV to his original place beside Shinra. Shizuo watched him sigh with a smile.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Izaya teased, “We can go again if you want and I’ll only try half as hard.”

Shizuo frowned as his own mocking words were thrown back at him. He reached out with his foot again and pressed it to the back of the other’s head so he could shove it forward. Izaya’s grin only spread wider as he laughed, and Shizuo found himself trying to stifle a smile as well.

“Ahh, this is great.” Shinra’s content sigh drew the attention of everyone in the room. Shizuo retracted his foot so he could stare at the goofy smile pulling up at the brunette’s features. “I’m so glad you guys are getting along now. I finally feel like a have a proper group of friends.”

“Don’t be a sap,” Izaya said from beside him, reaching out to take Shinra’s glasses from his face and place them on his own. Shinra fought to get them back, making sincere attempts to grab at the frames atop Izaya’s nose, but Izaya evaded every one of them. Shizuo watched the childish display with affection swelling warm throughout his chest. “How about a race?” Izaya asked his friend, finally pulling the glasses free from his face only to dangle them in the air. Every time Shinra made a swipe for them, Izaya jerked the glasses away. “You can win them back.”

Shinra pouted. “That’s not fair, you know I’ll lose for sure if I can’t see!”

“Fine,” He sighed. This time when Shinra reached for the glasses, Izaya let him take them. “But only because I know you’ll need all the help you can get.”

The countdown for a new race started and this time Shizuo sat back to watch instead of play. Though most of the time he found himself watching Izaya and Shinra more than he did the screen. Every so often Izaya would make an attempt to sabotage the race: by leaning over to plaster his hand to Shinra’s face and block the other’s view, or by tickling him enough that he got too distracted to play. They were both smiling and laughing — Shinra, occasionally whining — and Shizuo thought it made them look younger than they really were. He’d never seen Izaya like this, carefree and willing to enjoy himself with friends, childish and sweet. Shizuo decided he liked him best like this: with warm eyes and soft smiles. Shizuo liked him happy.

“Wow.”

He hadn’t realised he’d been staring so intently ‘till Kadota’s voice forcibly pulled him back. He immediately turned to give him his attention, dropping the small smile he also hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“This is serious, isn’t it?” Kadota spoke again. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Shizuo’s felt his cheeks warm. Was he really that transparent? Instinct told him to deny it, to tell his friend he had no idea what he was talking about, but Shizuo closed his mouth again soon after opening it, and turned to look back at Izaya only half focused on the game, with the rest of his attention being on distracting Shinra.

Shizuo’s emotions had always had more of a hold on him than most, he’d always felt they had the ability to grip him with more intensity than that of everyone around him. And so it made sense for him to fall so hard so fast, because everything he felt, he felt with all his heart, be it anger, or frustration, or excitement, and what Shizuo felt for Izaya, he felt with all his fucking soul. He couldn’t explain it, and he didn’t really feel like trying. There was only one word he thought could come remotely close to what he felt, that might provide some explanation for the way his heart clenched painfully hard in his chest, the way his breathing stuck in his throat, for how deep it felt like he was sinking and high he was floating all at once. He’d been ignorant for some time, but he was achingly aware of it all the same.

“I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Shizuo didn’t turn to face Kadota for a moment or so, but when he did he looked shocked all over again. Shizuo’s face heated further, he couldn’t believe he’d just blurted that out of the blue. Kadota must have thought he’d gone insane. Shizuo watched him open and close his mouth a few times, like he was struggling to form an appropriate answer. He eventually turned to watch the other’s finishing up their game. “I guess it kind of makes sense,” He said after a while. “You two have always been pretty obsessed with each other.”

Shizuo didn’t respond, he’d heard that enough times by now that he was done denying its truth. Yeah, he’d been obsessed then, and he still was now, but where he’d only been obsessed with Izaya’s flaws before, everything that made him dislikable, now he found himself obsessed with the good, so much so that it seemed to completely outweigh what he’d once deemed the bad.

“Yes!!” Shizuo’s attention jerked back to the TV at Shinra’s yell. “I won!”

Shizuo narrowed his gaze, confused and not willing to believe he’d been bested by someone who’d then been beaten by Shinra. He noticed Izaya’s controller missing from his hands, and a moment later, watched Shinra pull it out from under his own legs.

Izaya sighed, “Of course the only way you’d be able to win is by cheating.”

“Nonsense,” Shinra said. “And you were cheating too.”

Izaya poked his tongue out in the other’s direction, a mocking gesture that Shizuo thought made him look younger once more.

The hours passed by a lot quicker than Shizuo had anticipated. They played games and talked and ate snacks, and by the time Shizuo thought to look outside the sun was lowering itself to the bottom of the sky, getting ready to set and bathe the city in a pink and orange glow. They left Shinra’s with a wave and a promise to see each other at school on Monday. Kadota made his way back home, and Shizuo started on a path in the opposite direction with Izaya at his side.

They’d barely stepped out onto the sidewalk before Izaya began digging through the pockets of his coat in search for something that obviously wasn’t there. “I think I left my knife at your place,” He said, a small frown pulling down at his features.

“Do you really need it?” Shizuo asked, even if he wasn’t sure why he asked, because if Izaya said yes then he’d really only be worried.

Izaya hummed, “I have other ones at home, but that’s my favourite.”

Only Izaya could have a favourite knife. “We can stop by my place on the way, it’s not that much of a detour.”

“Okay.” Izaya’s frown eased, his expression smoothed out, and a moment later Shizuo felt the other’s fingers touch to his own. He looked down to watch Izaya link their hands together and then swing them as they walked. Shizuo’s first reaction was to hold on tighter, but he resisted, keeping his grip soft and slack. When they finally turned down the road to Shizuo’s house, he saw the lights were on through the windows, his home alive and glowing with the others on the street.

“What’s this?” Izaya asked, “I think your house has been broken into.”

“Nah, my parents came back early.”

Halfway along the street and Izaya’s phone buzzed from somewhere in his pocket. He pulled it free with the hand not currently occupied by Shizuo’s and read whatever it was that had demanded his attention. He didn’t look happy about it, Shizuo watched his mouth pull down on a frown, like he’d just tasted something particularly unpleasant, before shoving the phone back into his pocket without replying. He didn’t bother asking because he knew Izaya wouldn’t give him a straight answer anyway. Their hands stayed clasped, but Izaya stopped swinging them, his mood obviously soured by whatever it was he’d read.

Shizuo hesitated outside the front door, it was only for a moment but it must have been enough because Izaya unlinked their hands and stepped back. “Do you want me to wait outside?” He asked. When Shizuo turned to look at him he didn’t seem annoyed, he looked like he already knew Shizuo’s answer and had resigned himself to it.

“Of course not.” Shizuo tried to sound as confident as he felt. He told himself it would be fine; having a friend stop by to pick something up didn’t necessarily mean his parents would assume anything, and even if they did, even if it meant it was guaranteed to bring forth a swarm of questions he didn’t feel like answering yet, there was no way Shizuo would let Izaya think he wanted him to wait outside, nothing was worth instilling that kind of insecurity in someone he cared about.

Shizuo pushed open the door without knocking. It was warm inside, almost stiflingly so. His parents must have put the heater on. “I’m home,” He called out, taking his shoes off and leaving them by the entrance. He only briefly watched Izaya do the same, saw him slip his coat off his shoulders and hang it on the rack, before he moved further into the house, pushing the sleeves of his own jumper up his arms to ease some of the heat. He stepped into the living room and saw an empty couch. When his mother came out of the kitchen she had an apron tied around her waist and a wooden spoon in her hand.

“Shizuo,” She greeted warmly, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Hey.” Shizuo accepted her hug, almost getting a spoon to his head in the process.

When she pulled back she was smiling. “How was your day— Oh!” Shizuo turned to follow his mother’s surprised gaze and saw Izaya carefully stepping out of the entrance and into the living room. “Izaya-kun.” The smile that had faltered with her surprise returned once more. “It’s nice to see you again. Will you be staying for dinner?”

Izaya smiled back politely. “No, I have to get home. Thank you though.” He answered. “I’m just picking up something I left behind.”

Namiko’s smile faltered again. “Left behind?” She asked, brows furrowed in confusion. After a moment of thought, he watched her eyes light up once more. “Oh! You’re the friend Shizuo had stay the night!”

Shizuo brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah,” He answered, rougher than he’d intended. His mother didn’t look suspicious, just a strange mix of surprised, confused and possibly a little pleased. He supposed that was to be expected when he’d neglected to tell her how they’d slowly become friends over the past couple of weeks. The last she’d heard of Izaya was probably some very colourful insults and another recount of something particularly nasty he’d done to irritate Shizuo. He was actually more than a little surprised his mother hadn’t yet strapped Izaya to a chair and reprimanded him for all the grief he’d caused her son over the last year and a half.

“Well I hope you two had fun. I know it must have been a bit boring with the rain all… day…” Namiko’s brows had furrowed again, her smile was slipping once more. As her sentence trailed off, she tilted her head to the side as though she was trying to get a better look at something. Shizuo frowned, confused as to what had so suddenly enraptured his mother’s attention mid-speech, but when he turned to follow her stare he realised with slow dawning horror that her focus was locked onto the bouquet of bruises marring Izaya’s pale throat.

He’d completely forgotten about them, again, and if the other’s slightly wide eyes were any indication, Izaya had too. He saw Izaya’s hand twitch at his side, like he was resisting the urge to reach up and cover them from Shizuo’s mother’s view. It’s okay, he told himself. Just because Izaya had marks didn’t mean his mother would assume Shizuo as the one who’d put them there, in fact he thought that was probably the last thing she’d assume. He was getting ready to say something, he wasn’t quite sure what, but it didn’t matter anyway, because when Namiko’s gaze turned to himself, and then dropped below the line of his face to his own neck, Shizuo knew he’d lost all chance of saving himself.

If the colour on his own throat hadn’t given him away, Shizuo was sure the fear in his wide eyes, or the heat eclipsing his face would have. His stomach felt hot too, like it was trying to twist itself out of his body. It was making him nauseous. His mother’s eyes were wide again, going wider still with each moment of realisation, of what must have been impossible truth. Her gaze snapped back to Izaya again, then to Shizuo, periodically swapping her view for the marks on each of them like if she looked long enough she might understand a little more.

“I… um…” She finally managed to say, still staring below Shizuo’s face. When she flicked her eyes up to lock them with his own, it was a fight to keep them in place, to not look away and hide. His breathing was coming too fast, much like his pulse, but he tried to stand up a little straighter, square his shoulders and steady his gaze like he would in a fight. A way to tell her without speaking that he wasn’t backing down, that he wasn’t ashamed, that he wasn’t scared.

But he knew she could see right through him because she always could. There must been something close to terror still swimming in his gaze because when their eyes locked, she flinched at what she saw there, and her expression twisted on something that looked alarmingly close to hurt.

“I’m just going to get the thing I left.” The sound of Izaya’s voice pulled Shizuo’s attention away from his mother for a moment. Shizuo only caught the other’s uneasy gaze for a second before Izaya dropped it to the ground and turned to disappear up the stairs. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at him for running away, or grateful to have some privacy for the storm that was sure to ensue. He turned to face his mother with what remained of his flimsy resolve.

“Stop that.”

Shizuo blinked. He should’ve been expecting to find annoyance pulling down at her features, but he was still surprised. “Stop what?” His voice came out smaller and quieter than he’d ever heard it before; it made him cringe.

“Stop looking like I’m about to rip you apart.”

He swallowed what little moisture he had left in his mouth. “Aren’t you?”

Namiko’s expression twisted again, her eyes flashed with more hurt. “Of course not,” She said softly, like the very thought that Shizuo would assume such a thing offended her more than anything else. Some of the tension in Shizuo’s shoulders eased; he wasn’t completely relieved, not yet, but he did feel a little guilty. Namiko looked at him expectantly, brows still furrowed, but frown the slightest bit softer. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Shizuo didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready for this, hadn’t had long nights to think about what words he was going to use, how he was going to explain, but then again, maybe that was for the best. Izaya still hadn’t returned from upstairs but he’d been gone more than long enough to grab the folded up blade on Shizuo’s bedside table and bring it back down. He wasn’t sure if Izaya was staying up there because he felt too awkward to come down, or if he wanted to give them privacy for this conversation, but either way, he knew the other boy was listening, and that meant that anything less than complete honesty was out of the question.

“I…” Shizuo started. His voice was still too rough so he cleared his throat. “We…” Fuck, why was this so hard? What did she want him to say? He took a deep breath and lowered his gaze to stare at the ground. It was a little easier that way. “We’re dating,” He quickly blurted, like he was ripping off a band-aid. “Izaya is my boyfriend.” The ground under him blurred a bit, he was starting to feel dizzy. “I’m gay.”

Shizuo finished, and a surprising sense of calm began to fill him, like a big fluffy blanket being thrown over all of his anxiety. It was done. He’d done it. Her reaction didn’t matter now, nothing mattered now, because he couldn’t — wouldn’t — take it back. The too-loud beat of his pulse began to recede from his ears, the floor under him seemed to stop swaying; when Shizuo took another breath it came with a small burst of confidence that he was sure wouldn’t last. He raised his head to meet his mother’s gaze.

She was smiling. It was a sad sort of smile, with creases at her forehead, but it wasn’t disgust and it wasn’t anger, so Shizuo thought it was already more than what he probably deserved. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. When she squeezed he made an effort to relax some of the muscles there. “I’m happy for you,” She said. “I really am. I just wished you’d told me sooner.”

Shizuo huffed a breath and flicked his gaze to the side of her face. “I wasn’t sure before, I mean, I didn’t really want to think about it. It only really happened a couple days ago.”

When she nodded, Shizuo could see it in his peripheral vision. “I’m sorry,” She said.

“For what?” He asked, turning back to face her. Shouldn’t he be the one apologising?

“I’m sorry you thought I’d be disappointed in you.” Shizuo didn’t bother trying to refute it, knowing she’d be able to see right through him. “I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me. But you have to know there’s nothing you could say or do that would make me stop loving you.” Her smile was genuine now, the wrinkles in her forehead had smoothed out, and it made Shizuo relax like nothing else had. “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” Shizuo couldn’t help but ask, one eyebrow riding high on disbelief.

“Of course,” She nodded. “You’ve got a good group of friends. You’ve got a boyfriend.” She said the last word with a shake of his shoulder, like she was teasing him. It made the corner of Shizuo’s mouth lift a little. “They’re things I was starting to think you’d never have. Not because they were something I thought you couldn’t get,” She quickly amended. “But because I didn’t think they were things you really cared about.” She gave his shoulder another squeeze before pulling her hand back. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

Shizuo sighed. “Thanks.”

“However,” Namiko huffed, her smile replaced with something stern. “I know that when I asked if you had a girl over, you technically didn’t lie to me, but the same rules still apply.” She pointed a finger at him. “Doors stay open when you’re in your room.”

Shizuo felt his felt flame anew. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but wasn’t sure how how well he actually managed.

“I know you’re a teenager, but you’re still only 16,” She said, “I’ve got to take some parental responsibility.” He didn’t dare tell her it was a little late for that, after seeing the marks on their necks he was sure she was thinking it anyway. Namiko sighed, “I never really gave you the talk either. I suppose that the same concerns don’t exactly apply than if you’d had a girlfriend, but there are different things you need to concern yourself with when it comes to gay sex—”

Shizuo interrupted his mother with a mortified groan, reaching up to cover his face. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Maybe not now,” She conceded. “But at some point.” He didn’t argue, but that was mostly because he wanted her to stop. She smiled like she knew that too. “Your father won’t be back from the office till later, but we can talk to him then together.”

Shizuo nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.” So it wasn’t completely over, but with at least one parent on his side, Shizuo thought that no matter his father’s reaction, he’d be okay.

“You can go tell Izaya-kun to come back down now.” Namiko turned away to walk back to the kitchen. “Convince him to stay for dinner sometime,” She called over her shoulder.

Shizuo breathed a sigh of something that was starting to feel a little like relief and turned to follow where Izaya had fled up the stairs. He was surprised to find the staircase and the hallway both empty, had half expected to find the other boy sitting there, waiting. Shizuo kept walking all the way to the open door of his room. When he stepped inside he found Izaya sitting cross legged on his bed, toying with the open knife in his hands.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Izaya didn’t look up from the knife when he replied. “So, how did it go?”

Shizuo took a seat on the bed beside Izaya, let the mattress dip under his weight. “You weren’t listening?” He asked, his tone probably belying how dubious he was that that had been the case.

“No, I was.” Izaya smirked, but it was only very brief. “I just thought I’d ask anyway.”

“Well, it went a lot better than I really expected it to.”

Izaya hummed. “That’s good.” The knife twirling in his hand suddenly stopped, Izaya closed the blade and slipped it into his back pocket. “I should get back now,” He said.

Shizuo only hesitated a moment before asking, “Is your dad back?”

Izaya’s gaze immediately snapped up to his. He only held it there for a second before it shifted away once more. “That seems to be the case.”

Shizuo had to say something, he knew he did. Before this went any further, he needed to make sure they were on the same page. “Look,” He started, staring at the ground as he did so. “I know you’re a pretty private person, and that you don’t like sharing things, or people getting up in your business” — He swallowed — “But if this is gonna be serious,” He used a hand to gesture between the two of them as he spoke. “Then I think we need to be honest with each other. If you keep hiding stuff it’s never gonna work.”

Shizuo took a deep breath when he finished, glad he’d finally said what he’d been meaning to for a long time. After having so many weights lifted from his shoulders in just one day, he thought he’d feel a lot lighter than he did. But all he truly felt was exhausted. He just wanted to curl up under the covers with Izaya by his side and close his eyes to the world for a while.

He chanced a glance in Izaya’s direction. His face was deceptively blank, but Shizuo could see some kind of internal conflict flickering through his gaze on the bed. “Okay,” He eventually said, a lot more willing than Shizuo had really been expecting. “Just… wait though. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but you have to wait until I’m ready.”

Izaya looked up from the bed to meet Shizuo’s gaze, and if he hadn’t seen the honesty furrowing the other’s brows like it was physically painful to set it free, Shizuo might have pushed for more. He was not a patient person, he knew that all too well, but for Izaya, he could try. “Okay.”

More than anything, he had a feeling that by the time Izaya thought he was ready to speak, it’d be too late for Shizuo to protect him from whatever it was keeping him silent.

Chapter Text

Izaya kept his head down as he walked. Furry hood pulled up over his hair, he took long strides down the crisscrossing streets that stretched themselves between Shizuo’s house and his own. He’d refused Shizuo’s offer to walk him home — again — and had settled for leaning up on his toes to press a goodbye kiss to other’s lips instead. He could still remember the look on Shizuo’s face when he’d pulled back — soft, honey-hazel eyes and red-slashed cheeks. It’d made leaving him hard, and if Izaya’s phone hadn’t buzzed on their earlier way home with a message from Shirou asking where he was, he might have asked Shizuo to come back home with him.

Tch, desperate much? Maybe it was for the best he’d been interrupted.

Izaya sped his steps once he turned onto his street. He was in no way eager to see Shirou, their last interaction hadn’t exactly ended comfortably, but the nights were getting cold enough that more than a few minutes outside had him struggling to feel his fingers, which did not at all bode well for protecting himself; clumsy hands and sharpened blades were a dangerous combination. Still, he kept a grip on the closed knife in his pocket, and a wary ear out for anything that moved.

It wasn’t until he’d passed the house two spots away from his own that he saw shadows shift and a dark figure push themselves up from the seat they’d taken on his neighbour’s brick fence. They stepped out onto the path, effectively blocking his own, and Izaya’s grip on his knife tightened a little in answer. He pulled his hood down and kept walking — slower now, but just as calm — until some shadows over the other’s face dispersed from the streetlights around them. “Kuza-chan,” He greeted with a smirk, stopping to stand before the other boy. “I really was flattered by your admiration, but stalking me is just distasteful.”

He was doing his best to sound amused and unaffected, but all Izaya could think about was who’d given up the information of where he lived, how long had the other boy been following him, what did he know, what had he seen.

Kuza waved a hand like it would physically dismiss Izaya’s accusation. “No need to be so paranoid Orihara-san,” He drawled. “Besides, don’t you think I have more important things to do than follow you around?”

Izaya’s eyes narrowed. “Not particularly.”

“Ouch,” Kuza laughed, seemingly un-offended by Izaya’s insult.

“Well, if you’re not here to watch me through my window, what are you here for, hmm? Because I certainly made no request for your services.” Izaya’s tone was short and clipped. He had no patience for this, he was cold and tired and the last thing he needed was someone else he had to keep looking over his shoulder for.

“Actually,” Kuza started, “I’m here on someone else’s orders tonight. Shiki-san’s.”

Izaya stiffened. He should have been expecting this to happened, but if he was being honest he was hoping he’d have had a little more time to prepare an excuse, and that he would have been facing Shiki himself, not some creepy underling. It wasn’t like he’d been intentionally neglecting his work, he’d just been a little distracted was all. And fine, maybe he hadn’t been replying to his emails, and maybe he’d missed a few calls, but that was only because he was planning on having a damn good excuse and shitload of finished work to offer when the other man finally tracked him down.

Right now, he had neither.

Izaya schooled his expression into one of nonchalance. “Is that so? And what on earth would Shiki want from me that he had to send you to get?” As creepy as he was, the boy before him wasn’t exactly threatening; if he’d come to demand Izaya hand in his work, Izaya had no qualms about palming him off until someone more intimidating showed up.

“Well, he seems a little put out that you’re avoiding him,” Kuza started, “He wanted to come down here personally and see what was going on, but lucky I was there at the time and could convince him to send me instead.” He smiled, like he’d done Izaya a favour just by gracing him with his presence. “Besides getting the chance to see you again, I wanted to offer you some work myself.”

Izaya frowned. Was this guy an idiot? He knew Izaya was having trouble delivering the work he already had, and now he thought it would be a good idea to add something else to that pile? “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now,” He admitted with a smirk, “Maybe some other time.” Izaya made to move around the other boy, but Kuza stepped into his path once more.

“I insist.”

There was an edge to the boy’s smile and a dark thread to his voice that told Izaya he wasn’t asking so much as he was demanding.

“And if I refuse?”

Kuza shrugged. “Let’s just say your working relationship right now with the yakuza is tenuous at best, if Shiki-san found out you’d been neglecting your duties to pop pills instead, well…” He paused to smirk softly. “I don’t think he’d be very happy.”

Izaya fought the urge to grit his teeth by forcing his lips into a feral grin instead . “And what happened to client confidentiality? He asked. “If we pretend for a second that those pills were for me and didn’t serve a different purpose entirely, what makes you think blackmailing me is going to get you anything other than a nice pair of concrete shoes waiting for you at the bottom of Tokyo bay?”

It wasn’t often Izaya had the need to threaten someone so directly, and so it was hard to be sure if he was doing a good job of it or not. Kuza didn’t look particularly intimidated as Izaya stepped forward, fingers still tight around his knife. His eyes had darkened, his smile had spread, if anything he looked excited, like Izaya slashing him to ribbons was something to look forward to. And suddenly Izaya felt like that one step closer had been one step too many, suddenly he felt intimidated by whatever it was lurking in the other’s eyes. “Fine,” He eventually said, holding his smile even though it felt like deflating. “Why don’t you tell me what this job is and I’ll decide if I’m interested or not.” It was a little pathetic, a last ditch effort to save face, but Izaya told himself the other boy wouldn’t notice.

“Alright,” Kuza agreed, finally taking a step back from Izaya’s approach. “To put it simply, there’s some information someone’s hired me to collect and I need your help stealing it.”

Izaya rolled his eyes. “And what do you need my help for? You’re the professional thief between the two of us, not me.”

“Mm that’s true, but this project requires a little more… hands on work, and it’ll be difficult for me to do it without someone watching my back.”

“Wait,” Izaya said, gaze narrowed, “By steal, you mean physically breaking into somewhere and taking something?” Kuza nodded. “I’ve never stolen something before,” He admitted, because he hadn’t, at least not in the way Kuza was asking it of him. “What makes you think I won’t just ruin the job? Surely you know other people more competent and experienced in theft that you can blackmail into working for you.”

Kuza shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t want them, I want to work with you. Besides, you’re athletic, you’re smart, you’re…” He looked Izaya up and down. “Kind of small. Even without any experience, you’re probably more qualified than most people I know.”

Izaya sighed, the very idea of working with Kuza already making him exhausted. It’d probably be better for him if he refused, because who knew how long the other boy was going to hold that little bit of information over his head? If things hadn’t already been so tense with Shiki, he would have been fine taking his chances with a good lie to excuse away the drugs, but as things stood he knew anything else that had the ability to tarnish his reputation was too much of a risk for him to take.

In saying that, taking this job would be a big risk too. Most of the unethical stuff he did was hard to trace back to him. Breaking and entering, stealing something from someone… That would have consequences that’d affect him for the rest of his life if he got caught. And even so, getting kicked out of school, getting sent to a juvenile prison; none of that scared as much as the thought of what his father would do once he found out. If it came to that, the safest place he could probably be was prison. “Who’s the target?” Izaya asked.

Kuza smiled like Izaya had already as good as agreed. He pulled his phone from his pocket and fiddled around with it before turning it so Izaya could see past the glow of the too bright screen. “They’re a small gang just outside of Ikebukuro,” He explained. Izaya studied the picture of the run-down looking warehouse on the screen before him. “They’re mostly holed up here. Not much security other than a few cameras out front and back.”

“Do they have guns?”

Kuza shook his head. “Not that I know of. They keep the stuff they need to protect in a back room, including their computers. The job should be simple: get in, get the information my client needs off the computer, get back out. I already have a plan of entry, I mostly just need someone to play look out.”

“Right,” Izaya said, knowing all the while nothing was ever that simple. But, he didn’t have much of a choice now, did he? “Okay, I’ll help you.”

Izaya watched the other boy slip his phone back into his pocket. “I’m glad,” He grinned. “Will you be ready by tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night? With the amount of shit he had to worry about, he’d be lucky if he was ready by next month. “Sure.”

“Great!” The other boy chirped, stepping around Izaya and onto the other side of the path. “I’ll text you the details.” Izaya watched him walk backwards for a few steps, the light disappearing from his face to shroud him in shadows once more. “See you tomorrow, Orihara-san.”

He waited until Kuza had turned and begun walking back down he street Izaya’d come from before turning away himself. He covered the rest of the distance to the front door of his house as quickly as possible, pushing open the already unlocked door with fingers gone numb from the cold.

It was warm inside like someone’d left the heater on. Izaya slipped his frozen feet from his shoes and left them by the door. The heat was already working to unthaw the rest of his body too; his fingers no longer felt so numb, and his nose so cold. Even if the jacket over his shoulders began to feel a little stifling, he kept it on, pulling the hood further around his throat. Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame of me. Fool me a third time…

Not fucking happening.

The kitchen looked unoccupied, as did the rest of downstairs. All the better; Izaya wouldn’t mind going to sleep hungry if it meant avoiding an interaction entirely. Upstairs, he could see light coming out from under Shirou’s closed office door. The further he made his way along the hall, the more he was able to make out the sound of Shirou’s voice too, low and muffled. Izaya ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, waiting until the steam from the shower warmed the room some before divesting himself of his clothes. Twisting to look back over his shoulder, Izaya tried studying the cut on his back in the mirror; he hadn’t felt much more than a twinge of pain when Shinra’d cut and pulled the stitches free earlier that day, and the fact that he’d taken them out at all must have meant the wound had closed over enough to do so, but Izaya could still see the red mark stark against his skin, and knew that even after its final stages of healing he’d have a nasty scar to show for it.

He let his mind linger under the shower. Every drop of hot water beating down over his body reminded him of this morning, of the way Shizuo’s skin had felt slick against his own, his body hot, his gaze hotter. Izaya thought about the night before that, how he’d been wrapped in arms and covered in a body strong enough to bend steel, yet he’d never felt so safe, never felt so much like Shizuo was the one holding him together, and a grip too slack would have left pieces of himself falling through.

He thought about the way Shizuo had all but trembled under the attention of those around him when their relationship was brought into question, remembered the shake of his voice as he’d called Izaya his boyfriend.

Shit.

When he realised the longer he let his mind wander, the more his hands felt tempted to do the same, Izaya knew it was time to turn off the water and step out of the shower before the urge to indulge himself became too much. He dried his hair with a clean towel and then wrapped it around his waist. When he opened the bathroom door the steam curled and cleared as cold air from the hallway drifted in to replace it. Stepping onto the cool hardwood floors was a shock to his warm feet, and Izaya vowed to reach his room and change before he felt like jumping back in the shower. He’d made it halfway across the hall when the stairs leading up from the dining room creaked and Shirou appeared before him. Izaya froze in place, even if he knew it was the last thing he should have done.

Shirou’s eyes went wide for a moment, his gaze caught at Izaya’s half naked escape. But he composed himself quickly, continuing away from the stairs and closer to where Izaya had frozen in the middle of the hallway. “You’re back,” He said.

Izaya kept himself from saying obviously; he didn’t need to make this conversation any longer than it had to be. “Yeah,” He said instead, fingers tightening on the corner of the towel pulled tight across his hips, the only flimsy barrier keeping his lower body from view. “I was just out with some friends. I didn’t know when you’d be back so I didn’t say anything.” Izaya felt like cringing; when had he become so pathetic? Making meek excuses to keep himself from being yelled at, Shirou made him feel like a kid, made him feel like he was weak.

He made him feel like he did back then—

No. Stop it.

And being half naked only made him feel all the more vulnerable. Only made him infinitely more aware of every foot of space Shirou ate up as he moved closer, coming to stand near enough that the other man could reach out and touch Izaya if he so chose.

“That’s fine,” Shirou said. “I only just got ba—”

Memory was a funny thing; fickle at the best of times, completely unreliable at the worst. God knew Izaya had done enough repressing over the course of his life, had pushed back and blocked off enough to leave some parts of his childhood as good as blank. Of course that never really worked, bits and pieces slithered back in and tore up his chest, made him bolt up in bed at night. Now, Izaya wondered if the return of some of his old memories were affecting his new ones, if the constant stress he was under was to blame for his continued lapses in judgment. Because how many times had he heard someone trail off today, tilt their head with a look of confusion scrunching up their expression, like Shirou was now?

Three times. Which was already too many, because three was more than zero. Izaya didn’t make mistakes like this, Izaya didn’t cower, he didn’t shake, he didn’t—

Shirou’s hand gripped his jaw, forcing his head to the side so he could get a better look at his neck. The touch was angry, nothing like the excited pull of Shinra’s hands, or the soft but stern gaze of Shizuo’s mother. When Izaya forced himself to look at Shirou he saw a lot of the same things flickering over his face as he did hers; surprise, confusion, reluctant realisation. But there was something else there too, something he hadn’t seen in Shizuo’s mother, or in his friends, something that — loathe he was to admit it — scared him, really fucking frightened him. And where both Shizuo’s mother and his friend's expressions had eventually settled on something shocked, questioning, or somewhere in between, all dark eyes and furrowed brows, Shirou’s seemed to settle on anger.

His hand moved from Izaya’s jaw to his neck, fingers trailing over the bruises on his throat. They didn’t hurt, not really, but Shirou’s touch burnt like they did, like they were open wounds the other man had decided to dig his nails into. Izaya’s grip on the towel around his waist was so tight, he was sure his knuckles were turning white.

“Who left these on you?” Shirou’s voice was deep and dark. Izaya couldn’t look away from the way his eyes looked crazed, like the sight of Izaya’s bare skin was sending him insane.

“No one, I—”

Izaya hissed as a sharp ache raced up his neck and shoulder, because Shirou really was digging his fingers into the bruises on his throat now. God, Izaya was so sick of this. Why couldn’t everyone just mind their own business, just leave him and Shizuo alone. He was tired, and he didn’t want to argue, but he also didn’t feel like explaining himself to someone who shouldn’t be giving a shit either way, who had no right to be asking anything of him.

Izaya lifted his free hand to shove away Shirou’s lingering one. When he opened his mouth, he tried to focus on the bitter taste of his anger, his frustration, and not on the fear so often keeping him silent. “None of your fucking business,” He spat. He’d said it enough times to Shirou to know that it didn’t bode well for him, but he didn’t care, because yelling felt good, yelling was better than submitting. And he needed this man to know that he would never submit.

Shirou’s hand came back with more force than what Izaya’d used to push it away. With his forearm under Izaya’s chin, Shirou shoved forward to pin him against the hallway wall behind him. The pressure against his throat was enough to stifle his breathing; and even if it wasn’t, he thought the way Shirou’s body was pressed so close to his own, keeping him in place just as surely as his arm was would have had him choking anyway. But this was better, this was easier, because even if Shirou hurt him worse, at least Izaya was fighting back too. “None of my business!?” He looked like he was going to rage, going to scream. Izaya brought a hand up to clutch at Shirou’s arm, fingernails digging into his wrist. The other hand was still holding onto his towel like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was.

Izaya kept the other’s gaze, fighting back Shirou’s glare with one of his own even as he could feel the urge to breathe become uncomfortable and his face flush with the blood pooling in his head. He dug his nails in harder, tried to push back against the dizzy waves threatening his consciousness, because the thought of his grip going slack on his towel scared him more than dying did. He parted his mouth for air, but it made no difference; his lungs were still burning, his face was still hot. And like a bucket of ice water had just been thrown over his head, Izaya started to worry that maybe Shirou really wasn’t going to let go, that this was going to be it for him if he didn’t do something now, before his body became too weak to listen to his brain. He’d just steeled himself to kick out, to aim the point of his knee somewhere close to Shirou’s groin when the other man suddenly pulled himself back and let Izaya slump against the wall.

Izaya coughed reflexively when his gasps for breath burned in his throat. It took him a second or two to compose himself enough to look up at Shirou who’d taken a few steps away from him, and another moment for the look on the other’s face to register for what it was.

Panic.

Shirou looked like he’d seen something that’d scared him enough to pull himself away and set a hallway’s width of distance between them. His gaze kept running over Izaya, the fast rise and fall of his bare chest, the hand Izaya was rubbing at his throat, the flush he could still feel receding from his face as his body resumed regular circulation, but when he met Izaya’s eyes, Shirou’s gaze quickly darted away, fists clenched at his side. Izaya wondered for a moment if he was going to punch the wall again, something about the situation felt similar to the last time they’d talked, but Shirou turned away instead, continuing on his original journey down the hall to his office. The door slammed shut behind him and Izaya crumpled to the ground.

Back pressed hard to the wall behind him, Izaya felt like he was choking all over again, like Shirou’s arm or his fingers were still bearing down against his throat. His eyes were burning, and he had to close them just so they’d stop. A few shaky breaths later and he managed to push himself to his feet and stumble his way down the hall. Inside his bedroom, with the door closed behind him, Izaya shed his towel to dress himself as quickly and in as many layers as possible; sweatpants, a T-shirt, a jumper, socks. He was cold again and felt disgusting enough that he probably needed another shower, but Izaya had already decided he wasn’t leaving his room for the rest of the night.

He had research to do on Kuza’s new job, and more than enough work that needed to be done in order to get back into Shiki’s good graces, but Izaya crawled into bed instead, pulling the covers up over his face. He wished he’d stayed at Shizuo’s for dinner, wished he’d stayed another night. Sleeping on a park bench would’ve been better than staying here. It probably would have been safer too.

Izaya thought back to the promise he’d made Shizuo before leaving. If he ever did tell him, it would be a heavily filtered version of the truth. No amount of waiting would let him tell Shizuo everything, there was no way he’d ever be ready for that.

Chapter Text

Sunday morning, Izaya woke with something he’d been sorely lacking these past few weeks:

Conviction.

He’d made a decision; one with confidence and certainty. He was going to fight back, he was going to protect himself. But not with the physical strength his body seemed incapable of mustering in the face of Shirou’s own. No, Izaya was going to fight the way he fought best, the way he’d always fought in difficult situations; with information. He was going to find something on Shirou — he was sure of it — and he was going to hold it over the other’s head like an anvil, threatening each step the man took towards him from now-forward with the metaphorical weight of it.

So after Izaya listened to the sound of Shirou driving away — what business he had early Sunday morning, Izaya had no clue. Yet. — he slipped out of bed, showered, dressed, and made his careful way down the hall to stop and stand before Shirou’s closed office door. He’d start with that first, he told himself, and then if there was still time he’d check the bedroom too.

It was locked. But he’d expected as much, and after less than thirty seconds with his lock-pick kit, the mechanism gave way and Izaya twisted the handle to push the door open. As he stepped inside, he scanned the room, briefly wondering if Shirou was neurotic enough to have placed cameras around the space. He didn’t spot any, and so he kept moving until he stood before the large desk taking up most of the room.

Where do I start?

There was a laptop open so Izaya started with that, swiping a finger over the keypad until the screen lit up. He tried his mother’s birthday for the password first, then his sister’s; despite his better judgement he even tried his own. Nothing worked, and so he abandoned the computer in favour of going through notebooks and papers over the desk, hoping Shirou had thought to write his password down somewhere. Most of them were forms from the company he was working for, all seemingly innocuous and equally as boring. If Shirou really was working elsewhere in the background, he’d put a hell of a lot of work into keeping up this front. Izaya turned his attention to the desk draw, decorated with a lock that took a little longer than the door to give way under his pick. When he pulled it open, there sat more of the same useless papers, and Izaya spent a moment confused as to my Shirou had bothered to keep them locked up, but when he emptied the draw and ran his hands over the wood, he found a small lip at the back that let him grasp the edge of the false bottom panel and pull it free.

That’s more like it.

Izaya let his gaze run over the contents of the draw. There was a notebook, a small wooden box, and a metal case. He opened the box first, not at all surprised to find thick, rolled up wads of cash and two or three different passports. “That’s not suspicious at all,” He mumbled to himself, placing the lid back on the box. The case was next, and after undoing the latches on either side of it Izaya was surprised to find the pistol laying there. It was a threatening-looking thing, big and dark and heavy — not that Izaya dared pick it up and leave marks of his snooping. A few boxes of ammo were nestled in beside it too. “And why would a business man need something like this, hm?”

Izaya wondered for a brief and reckless moment, if he took it, how long it would take Shirou to notice it was gone. Bringing a gun with him tonight was probably a very bad idea, but the thought of Shirou having one at hand was even worse. Izaya could survive fists and knives and leering looks, but if Shirou decided to pull a gun on him, well, there wasn’t much Izaya thought even he would be able to do about that. Swallowing thickly, he closed the metal case and pulled out the notebook instead, quickly flipping through the pages and scanning dark ink. It was mostly dates, addresses and small notes, all difficult to make sense of without context. It wasn’t until a second flip through that Izaya recognised Shiki’s name and a familiar number beside it. He pulled out his own phone to make sure it was the same one. “Why would you…?”

So they’d done business before then. Izaya hoped they weren’t still involved because the idea of Shirou having any sort of sway over his work left a horrible taste in his mouth. At least he’d mostly confirmed his assumptions that Shirou had been working illegally at some point. Why else would he be hoarding yakuza contacts?

Before putting the book back, Izaya made sure to take photos of every page he thought might prove useful later. He took one last lingering look at the closed metal case and then placed the wooden panel back in the draw, piling papers on top and closing it with a soft click. He’d made no progress with the computer password so Izaya decided to leave it for now and venture into Shirou’s bedroom instead. It was a little underwhelming, only rows of expensive suits lined up in the closet and a small stack of books on the nightstand. Izaya wondered if Shirou had another apartment somewhere in the city, it’d make sense as to why he had so little belongings here.

With the only place left to look being the draw in the bedside table, Izaya made his wary way towards it. Invading people’s privacy always came with the risk of finding something you really didn’t want to, but Izaya was prepared to take that risk. It seemed he needn’t have though; when he opened the draw all that lay there was a familiar paper brown bag and what looked like a photo album. He’d been half hoping to find a prescription for antipsychotics, because the only way Izaya thought he’d even be able to think about forgiving Shirou for all the shit he’d done was if he’d been deemed clinically insane. He checked inside the bag first, scowling down at the small bottle of pills he’d sacrificed so much for and yet still had to go without. The cap was sealed which meant Shirou hadn’t been taking them, but the thought didn’t make Izaya feel much better. He begrudgingly left them where they lay and pulled out the album instead, opening it to a family photo he didn’t recognise, and it took him a moment to realise that that was because it wasn’t his family. Well, not really. The small boy that stared back at him, unhappy eyes and even sadder frown, looked a hell of a lot like he had when he was a kid, but there were differences too. This child’s hair was messy and wavy, unlike Izaya’s own that was sleek and straight. Izaya also didn’t recognise the two other boys standing beside the first, both with similar features even if they were a little bit smaller and had rounder faces. There was a man and a women standing behind the three boys, one of the man’s hands reached out and placed on the first boy’s shoulder.

Izaya carefully slipped the photo out of its plastic covering and flipped it over, hoping to confirm his suspicions with more information. There was writing, neat and delicate, and Izaya read it.

Oriharas. From left to right, back to front: Torakichi, Natsu, Shirou, Keiji, Katsumi.

“Huh.” Izaya flipped the photo back over and stared at the small boy. “You weren’t lying when you said we looked the same.”

Izaya had never met his grandmother or his grandfather. His mother had told him at one point that Shirou had always been very private about his family life, never speaking of his childhood or his parents. Apparently Kyouko had insisted on meeting them for years, but every time Shirou would deny her with absolute finality, until she eventually just gave up.

Izaya stared at the photo of Torakichi. He looked nothing like Shirou did now, in fact there wasn’t much familiar about him at all. But the way Shirou’s shoulders seemed stiff and hunched where the older man was gripping one of them, Izaya recognised; if only because that was the way he felt when Shirou touched him.

He concluded the other two must have been his brothers, and Izaya flipped the photo once more to stare at their names until he realised why they seemed familiar. He opened his phone to scroll through the photos he’d just taken of Shirou’s notebook, flipping through each until he found the page he was looking for. There were those same names again, each followed by an address and a phone number. Izaya made sure to type both of them into the notes on his phone, a loose plan already forming itself in his head.

He flipped through the rest of the book. There were no more full family photos, but Izaya saw some of Shirou and his brothers; as toddlers, as pre-teens — the more recent they got, the more Shirou’s eyes seemed to dull, the more his smile seemed to disappear. The last photo was of Shirou at what looked like Izaya’s age now, standing on a track field with three other boys and holding a golden trophy. After that, the photos turned to ones of Shirou and Kyouko. Izaya smiled at his mother in her wedding dress, on a picnic, at the beach, with her hands on a rounded tummy. Each photo made his chest ache and his eyes sting. There were only a few pages left in the album now, and Izaya was surprised to find each of them photos of him. As a baby, as a bright-eyed toddler, and as a smiling child, sitting on his father’s shoulders. Possibly the most surreal part of the picture was that Shirou was smiling too, smiling like he was having fun, smiling like he cared, like he lov—

“Fuck,” Izaya choked, wiping the wet from his lashes before it could fall and splash over the photo.

Why?

He gripped hard at the edges of the book.

What happened? What did I do wrong? What did I—

Izaya squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace, closing the album in the hopes it might close off his thoughts too. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know because it didn’t mean anything.

He placed the book back inside the draw and closed it carefully. With a final sniffle, he pushed himself up from the carpet and wiped his hands over his face. Crying over something like that, how pathetic. Izaya left Shirou’s room, closing the door softly behind himself, and disappeared back inside his own bedroom instead. Immediately firing up his laptop, he got to work on searching for everything he could find on Shirou’s brothers. One was still living in the city, with a boring office job and a small family, the other had an address for a town on the other side of the country. Izaya decided he’d pursue the one nearby first, see what they had to offer before he started booking train tickets. He didn’t want to call and he didn’t want to text, the barrier of a phone would make it too easy for them to ignore Izaya. He wasn’t exactly sure how tenuous the relationship Shirou had with his brothers was anyway; there was a good chance that even if he showed up on one of their doorsteps he’d be turned away or worse.

But he had to try. He needed answers and this was the best way he knew of getting them, the only way he knew of getting them.

It was too short notice to go now. Even if he had prepared himself, figured out exactly what he was going to ask, Izaya knew he had more important things to focus on. He needed to research the gang he was supposed to be stealing from tonight, the building he was supposed to be breaking into. If he wanted the evening to run smoothly, to begin and then finish without leaving any lasting consequences, he needed to have the upper hand at all times.

Izaya let himself get lost in his work, watched the hours while away with intermittent glances at the clock on his nightstand. He didn’t get up to eat or drink; he only spared a moment to notice how dry his throat really was when the ache in his back from sitting hunched over his desk became too much to handle. Pushing up from his chair, Izaya stretched his arms over his head until he heard his back crack. It was still sore, and so he let himself drop to lay face down over his bed with the promise that he’d only pause for as long as it took to stop hurting so much. After a minute or so with his face pressed into the blankets, Izaya realised he hadn’t checked his phone all day. After retrieving it from his bedside, he found it was still on silent. That explained why he hadn’t heard any of the messages waiting there for him come through. He opened the one from his aunt’s number first, already smiling at the sight of his sister’s names.

[10:04] Yuriko: Hi Iza-nii!!! This is Mairu and Kururi. We just wantd to let u no that we r having lots of fun with arnt Yuriko even if her suns and dorters are vry annoying. We miss u :(

Izaya pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could type out a reply.

[2:02] Izaya: I’m glad you’re having fun. Try not to cause too much trouble for your aunt.
[2:02] Izaya: I miss you too.

Izaya sighed because he really did. He was grateful his aunt had taken them under her wing, grateful they were safer than they probably would have been here, but he was also annoyed. Annoyed he was still stuck here, annoyed she hadn’t taken him with her. Then again, it was a little more complicated than that now, wasn’t it? He couldn’t very well up and leave without Shizuo potentially kicking up a fuss, he also couldn’t say for sure that he’d even want to leave now. Not if it meant leaving Shizuo too.

[2:05] Yuriko: U betta not be having all the fun with daddy with out us!!

Izaya swallowed.

[2:06] Izaya: Not really.

[2:10] Yuriko: Good. We hav to go hav lunch now but promis we wil c u soon?

Izaya didn’t like making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. Especially not to people he didn’t like letting down. But sometimes he figured white lies were better than no lies.

[2:12] Izaya: Yeah, I promise.

And then,

[2:12] Izaya: I love you.

He quickly thought to add.

[2:14] Yuriko: We luv u to!!! By Iza-nii

Izaya exited out of their messages with a soft sigh and pressed on the one from Shizuo instead. It was a simple ‘Hey’ sent earlier this morning, followed by an ‘are you okay?’ a few hours later. He frowned as he quickly typed a reply, hoping Shizuo hadn’t thought Izaya had been ignoring him all day.

[2:16] Izaya: Sorry, I got caught up in work and forgot my phone was on silent.

Izaya expected to have to wait for a response, but it came through almost as soon as he sent the last.

[2:17] Shizu-chan: Oh, that’s okay
[2:18] Shizu-chan: How are you?

Izaya smiled. He had a feeling conversations like this with Shizu-chan would never stop being strange.

[2:19] Izaya: Alright. You?

[2:21] Shizu-chan: Yeah, alright
[2:22] Shizu-chan: I miss you though

Heart fluttering mercilessly in his chest, Izaya turned his face to press it down into the mattress. If it wasn’t for this stupid job, he’d have possibly been spending the day out with Shizuo. He knew they’d just seen each other yesterday, and would see each other again tomorrow, but for some reason that didn’t feel like enough. Izaya wondered if this was a side effect everyone experienced when they were in a relationship.

[2:26] Izaya: I miss you too.

[2:26] Shizu-chan: :D

“Heh.” Izaya laughed into his blankets, the sound soft and muffled. Shizuo was an idiot, he was an idiot, but at least they were idiots together.

What a disgustingly mushy thought.

There were only a few hours left until sunset and Izaya spent them trying to work while messaging Shizuo every couple of minutes. It left him too distracted to actually get much done, but he didn’t finish the conversation and he didn’t say goodbye. Shirou still had yet to return and Izaya wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He’d figured out the hard way that it was not in fact easier to beg for forgiveness than it was to ask for permission, but he could hardly ask for permission if Shirou wasn’t here. He decided he’d deal with it later, come up with some excuse good enough to justify why he’d left so suddenly and without returning ‘till late.

Izaya glanced down at his phone as another message pinged for his attention. This one wasn’t from Shizuo.

[5:45] Kuza: It’s time. Meet me outside the same abandoned office building we met the first time. 10 minutes.

Izaya took a deep breath and pushed himself up from his desk. Whatever work he’d done would have to be enough. He messaged Shizuo, telling him goodnight, and then he got ready to leave. He slipped on one of his dark coats, tied up the laces of his boots, and chose a knife from the back of his desk drawer, spending a moment to unfold the metal weight of it and run his finger down the sharp edge of the blade. When he tilted his wrist it glinted in the light from his room.

Just in case.

He gripped the handle of the knife a little tighter.

Just in case.

Izaya closed the blade and shoved it deep inside his coat pocket. After grabbing his phone and keys, and making sure to leave his window unlocked, he left his room, made his way downstairs, and disappeared out the front door.

Izaya was no stranger to bad decisions, as of recent he seemed to be making them consecutively, but the difference now was that he didn’t need hindsight to tell him he was doing something wrong. Izaya already knew that what he was about to do was a bad idea, he could feel it weighing heavy in his bones. Paying for the consequences of his first bad decision with another bad decision wasn’t smart, but what choice did he have?

He was trapped, and with any hope doing this might free him. If it didn’t, then…

One thing at a time, yeah?

Izaya walked the streets with the sun setting over him, soaking up its last rays of orange light before blanketing him in darkness.

Chapter Text

Kuza was already waiting outside the building when Izaya arrived; leaning back against the wall, dark hoodie, jeans and hair all blending into the shadows around him. He pushed himself up to stand once Izaya came close, flashed a quick smirk in his direction, and then began walking down the street without waiting for Izaya to fall into step beside him. He had to jog the last few metres or so just to catch up.

“And how are you this fine evening, Orihara-san?” Kuza kept walking as he spoke, only sparing Izaya the briefest of smirking glances before settling his gaze back on the road before them.

“A little disappointed to be wasting it with you,” Izaya said honestly, voice light and breezy and completely void of the anxiety he could already feel swelling in his gut.

Kuza huffed a short laugh. In his periphery, Izaya could see the other’s smile stretch. “Don’t be like that! I promise to keep you entertained.”

Izaya couldn’t help the glare he turned to settle on the other’s face as they walked. He didn’t want to be entertained, he didn’t want to be doing this at all. “How about you tell me again what your plan is,” He suggested.

Kuza shrugged, and his apparent disregard for the entire situation was only making Izaya feel worse. “Fine, but it really is as simple as what I already messaged you. We scale the side of the building where there are less cameras, come in through the window that leads to the back room, transfer some files from the computer, and then get back out again.”

Simple in theory, Izaya thought to himself. He’d done his research, the gang was supposed to be small and lacking in resources, the building, old and run-down. What information they had that was valuable enough to steal, Izaya had no fucking clue. But he had a feeling that even if he asked, Kuza probably wouldn’t tell him.

“All you have to do is keep quiet and follow my lead. I’m sure that’s something the infamous Izaya Orihara can manage, right?” Kuza turned to catch his gaze, lips still quirked on a smile, parts of his eyes glinting in the glare of a nearby streetlight.

“Of course.” Izaya returned a smile of his own. If the edges of it were a little sharper than Kuza’s, well, it couldn’t be helped.

When Kuza drew to a stop, it was a few buildings down from the one they were headed for. Izaya fought the urge to shuffle anxiously. They weren’t exactly dressed to ease suspicion; dark hair and darker clothes, the only pale skin lit by moonlight being that of their hands, throats and face. If anyone so much as glanced their way they’d have enough reason to assume questionable intentions.

“Are you ready?” Kuza turned to ask him, expression serious for once. Izaya pulled his hands from his pockets and let them hang by his sides, he flicked his gaze down the street and let it linger on the warehouse. He took a breath and turned back to face the other boy.

“Yeah.”

They covered the rest of the street a little more carefully, and when they came to the warehouse, they ducked around the side of it instead of passing across the front. Izaya followed behind Kuza, keeping low as they passed the cameras he knew were set into the side of the building. Every so often Kuza would reach back and tug at Izaya’s sleeve, directing him towards the route he thought safest. Izaya went without complaint, following the other boy down the alley and climbing over the wire fence cutting through the centre of it. He jumped down and landed on the other side with barely a sound.

“This way,” Kuza whispered with a tilt of his head, motioning for Izaya to follow him towards the closed window at the back corner of the building. This close, Izaya could hear the low murmur of voices inside, the rumble of loud laughter and obnoxious yelling. He kept an eye out — glancing back down the alley compulsively — as Kuza picked the lock on the window and slid it up with a soft drag of metal. The voices inside became louder. Izaya watched as Kuza climbed through the open window and dropped down on the other side with a soft thump. He took a second to breathe, to glance for a last time at the starless night sky over him, before following Kuza inside the building.

A small cloud of dust erupted at his landing and Izaya fought the urge to sneeze. The room was dark and dirty and completely void of anything that might resemble a computer. “I thought you said this lead straight to the room we wanted,” He asked Kuza in a harsh whisper.

Kuza shrugged. “I meant relatively. The room we want is across the hall.” He gestured out the door.

Izaya grit his teeth. This wasn’t right.

The space between their room and the one across from them was large, and the voices Izaya could still hear were loud enough to sound like they were coming from just around the corner. They’d have to cross the hallway if they wanted to keep going, have to put themselves in plain view of their possible attackers. It was too big a risk, but so was giving up. Levelling one last glare toward his partner in crime, Izaya moved forward on featherlight feet to stand by the open door and slowly peek around the frame.

He held his breath for the time it took his eyes to dart around the room. He could see a table and couch, and the edge of a TV screen playing in the background. It looked like any grungy gang hangout; dark and dirty and incredibly unkempt. The only thing that made this place different from the others Izaya had been was the axe laying flat on the table, and the machete sticking out from the dart board, and the barbwire-wrapped baseball bat leaning against the couch.

He swallowed what little moisture his mouth still had left.

There were five people Izaya could see from where he was; three at the table, cutting lines of something white and powdery, and two spread out across the couch, one of which Izaya could only see his legs. Each of them had their attention elsewhere, be it on the TV or on the drugs spread out in front of them, but one too-fast move, one too-loud sound, and it was over, probably for real. These guys didn’t look like the kind that would ask questions before hacking them to pieces.

Izaya turned to look over his shoulder at Kuza and jerked his head across the hall. There was no way in hell he was going to be the one to go first. Kuza smiled, making his careful way to the edge of the doorframe and readying himself to cross the distance before them. Something happened on the TV that made the men cheer. In the midst of their yelling, Kuza took his chance and covered the span of the hall in two huge heaps. Any sound that came with his landing was drowned out by the other men’s voices. Izaya released the breath he’d forgotten he’d been holding when no one turned in their direction. Kuza looked back at him from across the hall expectantly.

If Izaya wanted to leave now, this would be his chance. He looked behind himself at the window still left open; and then the men nearby cheered once more, and Izaya tore his gaze away to run and leap across the hall before he had any more time to convince himself not to.

He landed too close to Kuza. Izaya felt arms come out to steady him as he practically fell into the other’s chest. He righted himself quickly, shoving the boy before him away with a scowl. Kuza’s smirked never faltered. He simply turned to walk further into the room, towards the computer set up over a desk in the back. “Keep watch,” He whispered, tapping something on the keyboard and letting the computer display light up the room.

Izaya wanted to watch what Kuza was doing, wanted to see if he could catch a glimpse of the information valuable enough to have him risking his life. And he might have, if he wasn’t so fucking sure they were going to get caught, that this was going to be it for him. So he turned to face the open door instead, one hand clutched around the knife in his coat pocket and both ears straining desperately for any kind of sound that might be moving towards them.

“Jeez, relax would you?” Kuza’s voice was soft, but it still made Izaya flinch. He couldn’t relax; and even if he could, he knew he wouldn’t want to. He thought about the axe on the table, shiny and sharp and — had there been blood on it? Or was he just making things up now. He thought about what it’d feel like having limbs hacked from his body, about where they’d throw his corpse, about how it’d taken him ‘till now to realise he was so in over his fucking head.

If Izaya — by some miracle — managed to get out of this alive, he was going to have words with Shiki. Lots of them. All strung together in an overdue — if not elegant — speech about his own self worth. He had to, even if it meant terminating their working relationship. This was not okay; he wasn’t some highly fucking trained CIA agent, and he also wasn’t disposable.

Izaya took a deep breath. He really regretted not bringing that gun. The wrath of his father was a frightening thing for sure, but now, with the very real possibility that he might die at the hands of a coked-up, axe-wielding maniac, Izaya thought he’d have been safer taking his chances and taking the gun.

It was too late now; all he could do was all he could. And all he could was keep both himself and Kuza out of sight until this whole disastrous ordeal was over and Izaya got the chance to tear the other boy to shreds. “Are you done yet?” He whispered without taking his eyes off the door.

“Almost,” Kuza answered, keyboard click-clacking under his words. The TV was still playing too loud down the hall, and when Kuza finally stepped back from the computer with an “Okay”, pulling a usb from its slot and powering off the screen, Izaya thought for a relieving second that maybe they would get out of this alive. They were almost done, it was almost over — and then Kuza turned away from the computer, and his elbow brushed the edge of a box stacked precariously atop the one beneath it.

Izaya held his breath as he watched it wobble and tilt, seemingly deciding on its own fate for what felt like infinity. There was a moment where it paused on its axis, caught between careening over the edge of the box beneath it, and tilting back to resettle itself, but then its weight shifted an inch, and, frozen where he was, with wide eyes and no air in his lungs, Izaya watched the box tip past its own centre of gravity and begin to topple to the ground. Kuza’s outstretched hand moved in slow motion, like he was pushing the weight of it through oil. Izaya watched the other’s fingers catch against the edge of the box, fumbling for a hold on one cardboard corner. But his timing was too slow, or maybe his grip too desperate, because the one-handed touch only pushed the falling box into the stack beside it, sending another three poorly piled crates tumbling to the ground. Izaya took a reflexive step back as disparate computer parts spilled out at his feet.

Everything felt deathly quiet after the sound of the boxes falling, even the blare of the TV was muffled by the blood pounding in Izaya’s ears. He felt paralysed where he stood; it took everything he had to just tear his gaze away from the mess on the floor and look frantically up at Kuza before him instead. Unlike Izaya, Kuza’s eyes weren’t wide, his hands weren’t trembling. The other boy’s jaw was tight with irritation, but apart from that he looked liked his own actions had merely caused them a minor inconvenience and not given them the promise of death like Izaya thought they had.

Kuza lifted his head to meet Izaya’s gaze and pointed to the gap behind the open door. Izaya turned to look at it; he didn’t want to hide, he wanted to take his chances and leave now, even if their assailants decided to chase them. He was a better runner than he was a fighter. But outside the room, voices had stopped. And even through Izaya’s panic, he could hear the slow thump of footsteps making their way down the hall. So he held his breath and slipped behind the open door, pressing his back against the wall and keeping himself as still as he could without being dead. Across the room, Kuza took cover behind a filling cabinet, the shadows there concealing his thin form so long as no one decided to inspect them too closely.

Izaya heard the floorboards on the other side of the wall creak, and from where he was hidden, watched a dark shadow pass over the centre of the room as someone slowly stepped inside.

“What the fuck?” A rough voice rang out as the shadow paused. A moment later, another pair of footsteps entered the room and joined the first.

“What? What happen— Oh. It’s just the boxes. For fucks sake Chiaki, I told you you didn’t stack them properly,” The new voice called out into the hall. “Now you can come in here and clean this shit up!” The man being mentioned responded with a groan Izaya could hear coming from further inside the warehouse. “Honestly,” He continued, “Can’t do anything right.”

When the man began to shuffle and retreat back out the door he’d come through, Izaya very slowly, and very quietly, released the breath he’d been holding. He was waiting for the other’s shadow to disappear completely when a voice called out and stopped it in its tracks.

“Wait.” It was the other man, the one Izaya had heard speak first. From what Izaya could make of his shadow, he was still stood just past the entry of the room, staring into the darkness made by lack of light and no windows. “Yujiro, c’mere.”

The footsteps Izaya thought had been retreating, made their slow way back inside the room. “What?” The second man asked.

“Do you see that?” When the first man pointed to a spot across the room, Izaya could only see the tip of one finger.

“See what?”

“That. Over there. By the filling cabinet. It looks like a shoe…”

“Huh…” The second man answered. Izaya could picture both of them squinting into the dark. One of his hands were still shaking so he stuffed it into his coat pocket and let it close around the hilt of his knife.

“Get the light,” The first man ordered. There was the shuffle of feet again, and then the quick thump of them, heading directly towards where Izaya was standing. He took a shuddering breath, pulled the knife from his pocket — and then a hand came out to flick the switch beside Izaya’s head before retreating once more, sending the room into bright, painful clarity and stopping Izaya’s heart in his chest.

“What the fuck?!”

Kuza’s hiding place was now in plain sight, without the shadows shrouding him, he might as well have been standing in the centre of the room. “Hey!” One of the gang member’s yelled, advancing forward and closing in on where Kuza was now emerging from beside the filing cabinet. Fuck, Izaya thought to himself. What did he do? Was he still safe hiding where he was, or was he supposed to be making a run for it while the others were distracted?

Izaya watched from behind the door as Kuza twisted to grip the side of the heavy filing cabinet and, once the others were close enough, tip it over its centre of balance and let it fall to the ground, just like he had with the boxes.

“Fuck!” The men yelled, reflexively jumping back as the metal cabinet crashed to the ground before them. The second man wasn’t quite fast enough, the cabinet knocked him to the floor and pinned him under its weight. “You little shit,” The first man spat. He stumbled away, and in his clumsy movements, knocked the edge of the open door Izaya was hidden behind. Izaya could only watch with wide eyes and absolute horror as the door began to slowly swing closed and expose him to the room. The man turned to look at him, then at Kuza, then back to him. “What the hell…?” He growled.

Through the blood pounding in his ears, Izaya could hear more men making their way down the hall and towards the commotion. He had less then twenty seconds before they’d be surrounded; and in the peak of his panic, his adrenaline-fuelled thoughts, Izaya’s body took over where his mind could not, and powered forward to send the flat of his boot straight into the gang member’s gut. After stumbling back, the man doubled over, hands wrapped around his stomach like he was going to be sick. Izaya only spared a short glance across the room at Kuza before deciding this wasn’t his fight; he was getting the hell out of here with or without the person he’d come with.

He lunged forward, dodging the man still hunched over in pain, and twisted to throw the door back open. He’d only just stepped out into the hallway when an angry hand fisted itself in the material of his jacket and threw him so hard against the wall, he felt himself bounce right back off and hit the floor instead. “Hng…” Izaya groaned at the pain already aching its way down his back. He must have bitten the inside of his cheek when he hit the ground because he could taste blood in his mouth.

When he turned onto his back, it was in just enough time to watch the gang member’s boot fall through the air towards his face. Izaya rolled to the side, let the displaced air from the other’s movement rush past his cheek and his boot thump hard against the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he quickly weighed his options. The man before him was blocking the way back into the room Izaya’d originally come through, but his only other option was to venture further into the warehouse. As the gang member came forward, poised to strike with his fist, Izaya dove off to his side in a roll that probably looked more frantic than it did graceful, and came to land on his knees behind him. Before the man could even think to turn and follow Izaya’s sudden movement, Izaya swung the blade clutched in his fist across the back of his closest ankle, severing tendon and spilling blood to stain the stranger’s white sock red.

The man dropped to his knees and screamed. His hands flew back to cover the gash in his leg and stem the blood now pouring freely. Izaya didn’t stay to watch him writhe in pain, he stumbled back to his feet and took off further down the hall. He could hear people still yelling from the room he’d just left, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered now was getting out alive — preferably with all his pieces still attached.

Out in the main room of the building, Izaya stumbled to a sudden stop. The two gang members he’d seen flee back here upon his entry into the hall were now stood blocking his path, each wielding the weapon Izaya now realised was what they’d returned for. He eyed them warily, gaze drawn to the sharp edge of the axe one man held in his hand and the mess of razor wire wrapping the bat held in both hands by the other. Izaya was definitely shaking, adrenaline shooting so high he felt like he was going to be sick. His eyes were wide, but it still felt like he couldn’t see anything. As he stood, breathing hard, blood drip-dropped from the tip of the knife clutched in his hand, falling to splatter over the concrete beneath him. The gang members closing in on either side of him watched it before charging forward with a new sense of ferocity, a complete abandon for his life.

The man with the baseball bat rushed toward him first, swinging it with both hands and little control. Izaya ducked under it easily. With each of the other’s advances, Izaya took a step back to dodge them; but that was all he did. The knife clenched in his fist was only useful if he could get close enough to use it. As it was, every move he made was one that kept him retreating. And he knew that eventually he’d run out of steps, they’d back him into a corner and hack him to pieces, leave his body so unrecognisable that no one would be able to stand the sight of him.

The man with the axe hung back for now, probably knowing full well how likely he was to end up with a bat to his face if he got in the way of his friend’s clumsy movements. Izaya evaded the other’s reckless swings for longer than he really thought himself capable, all the while racking his brain for a way to get close enough to take the guy out. He could have thrown his knife, but then if he missed he’d be leaving himself unarmed. After dodging another frustrated swing of the gang member’s bat, sharp wire missing his skin by an inch too small for his liking, Izaya took a few steps back before making a run for the wall beside them. His attacker turned to follow the movement, and Izaya used one large leap to scale part of his way up the wall before twisting to push off that same leg and use his other to kick the man square in the face.

The stranger stumbled back, one hand coming up to clutch the nose Izaya had gotten enough power to break. He glared at Izaya through watery eyes and bloody fingers, and when he came forward again it was with a roar so loud Izaya swore he felt the warehouse shake. He took a step back from the other’s attack, gaze flicking between crazed eyes and the weapon he seemed to be moving with more force now, as though he’d taken a page out of Shizuo’s book and found a way to channel his rage into power. Izaya went to take another step back as the man drew closer, but the heel of his boot ran up against the wall he’d forgotten he’d trapped himself against, and the quick swell of panic was all his body had time to create before the barbed wire-wrapped bat came swinging in an arc towards him.

Izaya thought he might have heard the bat make contact with his arm before he felt it. There was a dull thud, like the sound of a butcher’s hammer beating raw meat, and Izaya jerked to the side so hard he stumbled a few steps before falling down to his knees. The shock must have saved him from feeling most of the initial impact, because he only really felt the mess of wire that had pierced his skin once it was being torn free with a rough yank of the bat.

Izaya screamed open-mouthed agony, hand reflexively coming up to clutch at his arm, to grip the hurt and hold it there, but that only made it worse. The pain was blinding, literally; Izaya swore it stole some of his vision just as much as it stole the breath from his lungs. The fingers grasping his upper arm were already slick with blood, and the ones gripping his knife finally felt sapped of the strength to do so. It clattered to the concrete, officially useless to him.

“That’s what you get, you piece of shit.” The man spat down at him, face a cruel and bloody sneer. When he kicked the knife away, Izaya watched it skid across the floor. “I’m gonna make you sorry you ever messed with us.”

So this is is it, he told himself. I’ve finally lost.

He took one last look around the room, hoping for some hidden exit he hadn’t seen beforehand, but there was nothing. With these two guys blocking his path, there was no way Izaya’d make it to the front door in time, he could still hear yelling coming from the hallway he’d left, and he felt the injury on his arm like a weight keeping him slumped where he was. He’d done all he could do — accepting his defeat without screaming or crying was really all he had left at this point. The thought made his breath stick in his throat, caused him to shudder in what must have been true fear, and then something glinted out of the corner of his eye, like a light bouncing off metal, and when Izaya flicked his gaze to the wall across the room he saw the machete he’d seen earlier, still lodged inside the dartboard.

Izaya had once heard someone say the strongest emotion the human brain had to offer was hope. That, more than fear, more than hatred, hope had the strongest influence, hope had the ability to keep you alive like nothing else could. At the time he’d internally scoffed, thought that this person was wrong, that if they thought such a thing it only meant they’d never known true fear, they’d never known true hatred, and for that Izaya had envied them. But now, with the sharp blade in his sights shining like a beacon, Izaya thought he was starting to understand a little better. The resignation he’d been so quick to succumb to started to fade in the hope of a way out, and his brain told him he was going to stay alive for a little while longer.

Before his attacker had another chance to lift his bat and swing, Izaya sprung to his feet and sprinted for the wall. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and every thumping step he took jostled his arm in teeth-gritting pain, but he ignored it all as best he could. Both men immediately took off after him, but Izaya still made it to the dartboard first. He released the grip on his injured arm and wrapped bloody fingers around the handle of the knife, pulling it free with a swift jerk of his shoulder. The man with the bat was upon him as soon as Izaya turned, and he dodged the weight of it headed for his face by dropping to his knees in front of him, raising the machete he clutched high over his head, and driving the point of it down into the other man’s shoe with all the force he could muster.

“FUCK!!” The man howled, dropping the bat and letting it roll along the floor in favour of clutching at the knife piercing his foot. Izaya quickly got to his feet and backed away.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” The gang member wielding the axe said, stalking forward with a vengeance for his friend dark in his eyes. Izaya kept moving, keeping his distance from the one attacker still on his feet. He wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost, but he was already starting to feel a little woozy. As the man leaped forward, swiping his axe through the air, Izaya jerked back, the blade missing his throat by what felt like a hair’s width. His movements were clumsy and sluggish; every step a stumble, every dodge a near miss. He knew he was one too-slow step away from a death too gruesome to wish upon his own enemies.

Izaya ducked under a particularly powerful swing of the other’s axe and watched the sharp edge of it hit the wall where his head had been. The man struggled for a moment to pull it free and Izaya took the opportunity to run. He moved further through the living quarters, searching for the front door he’d only seen on blueprints. He’d barely made it a few meters away before an overwhelming wave of dizziness had him stumbling to a stop. He paused for a moment, hand to his head as he tried to blink his vision clear, but that was all the time the man behind him needed to catch up, fist a hand in the back of his jacket, and throw him to the ground.

Searing pain lanced its way up Izaya’s arm as he used both hands to stop his face from hitting the concrete. He quickly dropped his shoulder and rolled himself onto his back, just in time to watch the blade of the axe cut down through the air on a direct path for his face. Izaya’s hand came up on instinct, fingers grasping at the wooden handle of the axe and halting its momentum through the air. The edge stopped an inch from his face and his arm shook with the effort of holding it back. His fingers were still wet with his own blood, and when the gang member shifted to push more of his weight onto the axe, lips twisted in a manic sneer, Izaya’s grip on the handle started to slip.

Even with his entire body screaming protest, Izaya lifted his injured arm to catch a hold around the axe and help keep it away from his face. “Fuck,” He sobbed, muscles trembling, shoulder throbbing, fingers sliding. He could feel the strength in his arms slowing giving way to the man over him, could see the blade of the axe inching closer towards his nose. His hands were quickly becoming useless, but Izaya still had the rest of his body. It was with that thought in mind that he lifted his knee from the ground and jerked it forward as hard as he possibly could into the groin of the stranger over him. He kicked once, twice, until the gang member folded in two with a groan and his grip slackened enough so that Izaya could pull the axe from his hands and throw it across the room.

He scrabbled to his knees. From where he was now, Izaya could see his open knife lying a few feet away from him. He crawled closer to it, gripping it desperately from the floor and bringing it to his side. He tried to get to his feet but a hand closed around his ankle before he could stand, pulling his foot out from under him and bringing him back down to the ground. He felt himself being dragged back, the cold concrete offering no purchase for his slippery fingers. The hand at his ankle moved to his hair, and Izaya let out a cry as the man over him yanked his head back. “I’m gonna hack you to pieces, you stupid fucking brat,” The words were hissed into his ear, the hand fisted in his hair pulled harder still, until Izaya felt something inside himself begin to crack.

He thought about screaming, thought he might finally be ready to cry. Izaya didn’t know if he could feel a cold hand running its way down his back, or pulling at the buckle of his belt, or if it was all in his head. He wasn’t sure if he was being pressed against concrete, or bent over a desk; if he was still in high school, or barely old enough to know what was happening. His reality felt fractured, his identity in pieces. There was something building up inside his chest that felt just about ready to break.

With a burst of adrenaline and a sense of self preservation he’d been sorely lacking most his life, Izaya did what he should have done back then and used what little strength he had left to twist around, pull the hand clutching his knife close to his body, and then swing it through the air in a violent arc, letting the blade catch at the other man’s throat and tear through it like paper.

Blood.

There was so much blood. It immediately began to pour from the man’s throat and splatter over Izaya’s chest; he barely closed his mouth in time to save himself from tasting it. The gang member’s hands went straight to his own neck, fingers clutching frantically at skin, as though a grip tight enough might stem the flow of blood now cascading from his body like a waterfall. Izaya watched the other’s eyes go wide with horror, watched him choke and splutter and gasp for the air his body couldn’t seem to find. He watched him drown in his own blood and continue to lose it all the same.

After one last wet, garbled breath, the man’s legs finally gave out and left him falling to the ground. Izaya scrambled away, tried to put as much distance between himself and the body as he could, hands and feet slipping in the blood now pooling over the concrete. He couldn’t pull his gaze from the other’s eyes, even once they went still and unblinking and completely void of life, the body of the man he’d killed now nothing but a shell.

Past the sound of his too-fast breathing, Izaya could hear the yelling and footsteps of the other gang members coming further into the building. He knew he had to go. He got to his feet, almost losing his footing on the red-slick floor, and ran for the door he could now see ahead of him. The handle turned under his grip, and Izaya dashed out of the warehouse and into the cold.

He kept running. Down the street, to the end of the block. He ran like he was being chased; and maybe he was — Izaya wasn’t going to stop and check. There were visions just behind his eyes, graphic stills of blood, and blade, and dead, lifeless eyes, but Izaya didn’t let himself think about them, he didn’t let himself do anything but run. His lungs were aching, his legs, just about ready to give out, but he couldn’t stop. The sky was still dark and the shadows shrouded most of what he knew was covering his body, but he also knew that if someone had the chance to look close enough, they’d see what was splattered over his face, they’d know what it was he’d done.

When Izaya’s vision started to sway, and something that felt a lot like nausea began to bubble in his chest, he had to stop. He turned off the street and ducked into the small park near his house. He fell to his knees on the grass and continued to gasp for air. It felt like he’d swallowed acid, like there was something burning him from the inside out, eating away at his organs and setting fire to his soul.

He felt sick. He felt sick.

Now that he’d stopped, the images were forcing their way back into his head with a vengeance. It was like his memory had gotten stuck, a broken record playing on repeat. He watched it over and over and over. The torn flesh, the look of horror, and, god, the blood. There was so much blood. He finally took the time to look down at himself and see the way it’d soaked into the front of his jacket, and shirt, and jeans, turning everything to a slightly darker black. The smell of it was overwhelming, the iron tang enough to make his stomach lurch.

God, he felt so sick.

He wanted to throw up, but he couldn’t slow his panicked breathing enough to give himself the chance. He tipped himself forward instead, closed his watery eyes and let his forehead rest against the ground. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” He sobbed, heaving oxygen straight from the grass under him. He tried to take measured breaths, to bring himself back from the edge of panic, and he managed eventually, after what felt like an hour of wheezing that was probably only a few minutes.

Izaya sat back on his knees. He’d let his knife fall to the ground when he’d stopped and he resisted the urge now to throw it far away from him. He picked it up instead, tucked the bloodied blade back into its handle, and slipped it inside the pocket of his jeans. He scrubbed his eyes with his hands and stumbled to his unsteady feet. He needed to get home, he needed to get inside before someone saw him.

Izaya pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head for the rest of the walk back to his house. He moved as fast as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. By the time he made it back, his arm had resumed its throbbing, adrenaline and then panic now giving way to unimaginable pain. The thought of climbing the wall to his window was so monumental, Izaya briefly considered curling up in a bush instead, or doing the unthinkable and knocking at his own front door.

He did neither. Instead, he moved to begin scaling the outside wall. It took him three times as long as usual and he almost slipped twice, hands still slightly wet and one arm offering little to no strength. It was an excruciating effort, and by the time he reached his window, pushing the weight of it up and all but falling through, his arm felt like it was on fire. He headed straight for the bathroom, not bothering to close his window or take off his shoes. He moved fast enough that no one could have stopped him even if they’d tried.

Only once the door was closed behind him did Izaya let himself slide down to the tiled ground, let his head fall to rest in his arms, and let his violent visions torture him anew.

Chapter Text

Izaya thought it must have been a good hour before he’d mustered the strength to stand from the bathroom floor; and even then it was only because the blood drying on his skin was starting to itch.

He pulled his phone from the pocket in his coat, hoping to check the time, but there was a long crack running down the length of the blood smeared screen, and when he pressed the button to turn it on, the screen stayed dark. Izaya left the phone on the tiles as he got to his feet. He had to steady himself with a hand against the door as he moved, legs still shaky and sore from running so hard. Every small shift of his arm had him gritting his teeth in a pain so searing it knocked the breath from his lungs.

Izaya dragged himself over to the sink; head bowed and shoulders hunched, he gripped the edge of the ceramic counter with red-stained fingers. Now that the adrenaline had faded, and the shock had subsided, Izaya was left with a bone-deep feeling of dread. He thought about blood, his blood, splattered on the concrete floor back at the warehouse, drying on the tangled razor wire of the weapon that’d hit him. He thought about his fingerprints on the axe that had nearly cut his face in two, and on the handle of the machete, and on the door he’d escaped through; and then Izaya felt something sick and horrible curl inside his gut — because he’d killed a man and all he could think about was saving his own skin.

Killed a man.

Killed.

He’d actually done it; taken the life of one of the humans he claimed to love so much. Even if they’d been the most deplorable of humans — that was no excuse. Even if they’d given him no other choice — that was no excuse either.

Izaya wanted to hate them, to hate Kuza, to hate Shiki, but deep down he knew the only one he truly hated was himself. He finally forced himself to lift his head and almost choked at what he saw looking back at him from the mirror.

There was blood spattered and smeared all over his face; it trailed down his throat and disappeared inside the clothes he could feel were soaked with it. He didn’t just look like he’d murdered someone, he looked like he’d taken an axe and violently hacked them to pieces. He looked horrifying. His tears had left tracks in the red that had dried over his cheeks, and Izaya brought an angry fist up to scrub at them. It wasn’t helping so he let his hand drop back to his side.

As Izaya stared into the eyes he no longer recognised, he let the movie reel of his first kill begin to play once more. It was sick, and it was twisted, and it only made Izaya hate himself the more, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it had been; the way his knife had glided through the other’s throat like it was butter. One hard swing of his arm and he’d gone from being — well, no, not exactly innocent, but he certainly hadn’t been a murderer.

And now he was.

Something dark and ugly began to bubble in Izaya’s chest. It made his throat ache, and his eyes burn; the taste of his own self-loathing so foul it felt like it was choking him. The uninjured arm at his side was tense, and his fist was clenched so hard nails bit into his palm. Izaya met his own reflection, glare for glare; and then the blood-covered boy smiled back at him, wicked and vile, and Izaya brought his clenched fist forward to shatter the horrid image before him.

The mirror cracked and splintered under his fist, sharp, angry lines spiderwebbing out from beneath his sore knuckles. Izaya could still see the boy, he was distorted and fractured, but he was still there, so he reeled his fist back and brought it forward again, and again, and again. Until each shrill crack of the mirror came with shards off glass falling to land in the sink below it. His fist was aching almost as much as the arm hanging by his side, and every punch left smears of red over the mirror before him, but Izaya kept going; even when — past the sound of his frantic breathing and the crash of glass — he thought he could hear the quick thump of footsteps, growing louder the closer they got. When they were clear enough to sound like they were right outside the bathroom, Izaya finally paused with his fist mid-air and his head turned towards the door, only having a single, panicked moment to wonder if he’d locked it before the door was swinging open with a loud bang and Shirou was stepping inside.

“What the fuck is goi—”

Shirou cut himself off. His furrowed brows and tense jaw gave way to open-mouthed, wide-eyed surprise. Izaya didn’t dare move, his fist still trembling mid-air and dripping small splatters of blood over the tile beneath it. He wondered what Shirou must be thinking, walking in on his son covered in blood — only a small part of it his own — and shaking with torn knuckles, watery eyes, and the only mirror in the bathroom shattered to pieces.

Shirou finally closed his mouth; Izaya watched him swallow before speaking. “What the hell happened to you?”

Izaya finally let his fist fall back to his side. He struggled over a long, shuddering breath and opened his mouth — but the words were stuck somewhere down in the pit of his stomach, because how could he even begin to explain, to describe, to put words to the awful thing he’d done? He couldn’t. And he couldn’t hold Shirou’s gaze anymore either so he dropped it to stare at the puddles of his blood on the tile instead.

Shirou took a step forward and Izaya kept his head down. It was only after he took another step that self-preservation won out and Izaya raised his eyes to let them settle on the man before him. He expected to see anger, and disgust, and maybe even disappointment, but Shirou didn’t look angry; he looked focused, and calculating, but most of all he looked like he knew, and Izaya couldn’t decide if that left him utterly relieved or completely terrified. Possibly a bit of both.

When his father finished looking him up and down, he only met Izaya’s gaze for a brief second before turning on his heel and walking straight back out the way he’d come, the door still left wide open in his wake. Izaya couldn’t even muster the will to move forward and close it. He just stood where he was and stared at the empty space leading out into the hallway. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Shirou re-entered, a frown on his face and a plastic bag in his hand that he placed on the floor in front of where Izaya was standing.

“Take off your clothes.”

Izaya startled. “What?” He asked, voice meek and croaky.

“Your clothes,” Shirou repeated himself. He gestured a hand to the bag on the floor. “Take them off and put them in the bag.”

Izaya wrapped his arms around himself protectively, and in doing so, felt the blood drying on his clothes and making them stiff. He looked down at the bag, and then up at Shirou standing patiently, and then he swallowed thickly before slowly drawing down the zipper of his coat, the mechanism snagging every so often on the blood dried into it. He winced as his shredded knuckles dragged against the inside of his sleeve; when he pushed the other side of the coat down and off his injured shoulder, Izaya had to stifle a whimper. Shirou must have realised that stuffing his coat in the plastic bag was asking for more than what Izaya was currently capable of, because after struggling to push it in with two barely functional limbs, Shirou stepped forward to take the bag from Izaya’s hands and finish the job himself.

Removing his shirt was even more difficult than struggling with the coat. He managed to peel it over his head and down one arm, but when it came to the other, Izaya could feel the way it had dried and stuck to the wound on his shoulder. Pulling the material free came with a pained, shaky breath and a new spill of blood that chased the drag of the material down his arm. Shirou took the shirt from his hand and stuffed it in the bag. “Where’s the weapon?” He asked, and it took Izaya a moment to realise what he meant.

He guessed there was no point denying now, no point to hiding anything from someone who already knew. When Izaya looked down he saw that parts of his chest were stained and smeared red. He ignored it in favour of watching himself as he slipped the folded knife from his jean’s pocket and handed it to Shirou with trembling fingers. Shirou stared at the object for a moment, glancing at the way the blood had dried around the closed blade, and then he slipped the knife into his own pants pocket, and gave Izaya an expectant look that told him to finish undressing himself.

His shoes came next, and then his socks, but when it came to his pants Izaya hesitated with the intensity of Shirou’s stare still settled over him. Fingers paused on the button of his jeans, he kept them there until Shirou offered a small shred of privacy and ducked his gaze to rearrange Izaya’s clothes inside the bag.

After stripping his jeans down his legs, Izaya was glad to find that no blood had soaked through to his underwear. He half expected Shirou to demand he take them off anyway, was getting ready to put his foot down and offer some form of protest, but Shirou simply shoved Izaya’s pants inside the bag and then tied the top of the plastic into a knot; and Izaya sighed a quiet breath of relief.

“Did you leave anything behind?”

“No.” Izaya swallowed. When he spoke his voice was quiet and croaky. “But my blood is—”

On the floor, the door, the bat,

“Everywhere,” He said. “And— and there’s fingerprints on another knife, and an axe, and maybe some other places too.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Shirou nodded slowly. “I’ll take care of it,” He said simply, turning on his heel and making for the door. Izaya was still waiting for him to ask for a location, but, “Get yourself cleaned up,” was all Shirou said before closing the door behind himself with a soft click that echoed in and outside of Izaya’s head.

With the other man’s departure, Izaya shuddered a breath. He stood still over the tiles for another handful of minutes, trying to ground himself in his body even though his brain continued to reject the effort. It kept pulling him back, like every time his hands gripped the metaphorical wheel of the body he was driving, every time he found even tiny moment’s worth of clarity for his thoughts, hands were coming out to pull him out of the driver’s seat and into the back of the car without his permission or control. It left him feeling like he was adrift in some sort of half-dream, stumbling along the line between reality and the world in his head without having a good foothold on either or enough perspective to separate the two. Nothing around him felt quite real, the objects in his bathroom hazy and disproportionate. It took him glancing down at hands that felt like they no longer belonged to him to realise he was starting to shake from the cold.

Izaya finally mustered enough strength to bring his unresponsive limbs back under his control and will them to move him across the tiled bathroom floor. He didn’t want to wait for the bath to fill, and the thought of sitting in water that was sure to turn as red as the blood still dried to his skin was more than he could stand, so Izaya reached out to turn the tap for the shower instead, shedding his briefs so he could step under the cold spray starting to warm and wrap his arms around himself.

He grimaced at the icy pinpricks raining down on his injured shoulder and the open skin on his fist. But after a few minutes even that began fading into the background with everything else, the claws of his fractured mind reaching back out to pull his psyche into itself, cradling his awareness in the protective wrap of his thoughts. He had to start moving just to stay present, because as safe as his brain thought the space of itself to be, Izaya knew better. His reality was confronting and painful and hard to keep his eyes open to, but the thought of being trapped inside the rattling cage of his head without an option to escape was enough to tighten his chest with a flare of true panic.

He focused on scrubbing the dried blood from his body and his face, red soapy lines of water running down his stomach and legs to swirl into the drain under him. Washing his hair with one hand was hard, because as much as his shredded knuckles were protesting the sting of soap and the spray of water, lifting his other arm more than a few inches away from his waist was too painful a thing to keep trying. Even once his body was free of another man’s blood, and water made its way down his skin in clear, untainted rivulets, Izaya still couldn’t bring himself to cry. There were so many emotions competing for the stage that his nervous system must have overloaded on the instruction to bring all into existence at once because in the end all he really felt was numb. The panic, the shame, the relief — they were all still there, but like a misshapen shadow in a dark room, they only felt real if he let himself focus on them.

And he could do the same with his visions and his thoughts; he had to. No matter what, he’d deal with it, he’d get over it, because god what if he didn’t? What if Shizuo found out? What would Shizuo think of him if he knew?

And there was the fear, casting its cold fingers down his back.

No, he can never know, Izaya whispered back to the echoing cavern of his mind, pushing away the grip of those icy hands by pretending they weren’t there. He can never find out.

Standing under the spray of the shower until he felt sick from the heat and his fingers were pruned, Izaya told himself this wouldn’t haunt him forever.

When he shut off the water and stepped out onto the tiles, Izaya found his arm and his hand had both started to bleed again. It meant that by the time he finished drying himself and had a towel wrapped around his hips, the fluffy white of it was stained in parts to red. He felt dizzy and weak, from the heat or the blood loss he couldn’t be sure, but he took a seat on the lip of the bathtub anyway, not quite willing to risk collapsing to the floor and adding any more injuries to the list. He closed his eyes and took a few shallow breaths, only opening them again when he heard three sharp knocks ring out from the door.

“Yeah?” Izaya answered them, the sound of his voice so thin he wondered whether the word would even make it out into the hall.

“Can I come in?”

Izaya sat up a little straighter, pulled the towel around his hips in a little tighter. He was pretty sure the door was still unlocked, and he felt like he barely had enough energy to perform basic bodily functions at this point, let alone navigate an argument or flee from a fight; so he sat where he was at the edge of the bath and called out across the room. “Yeah.”

Shirou didn’t bother closing the door as he stepped inside, the handle of the overlarge first aid kit from the kitchen gripped in one hand. Izaya eyed him carefully as he came closer. Shirou’s brow-furrowed gaze stopped at his shoulder, tracking the crimson lines running down past his elbow and towards his wrist. “What did this?” He asked.

Izaya shifted his arm with a wince. “A baseball bat wrapped in some kind of barbwire,” He answered.

Shirou nodded slowly, taking a seat next him and placing the first aid kit on the ground. The other man’s sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and Izaya watched him pick out a bottle of saline and a pack of gauze from the box with apprehension. He didn’t flinch when Shirou’s hand slipped under his arm to hold it steady with surprising gentleness, but he did when the other one upended the bottle of saline over his injury, the sting of salt enough to make him grit his teeth.

With the blood rinsed free from his arm, Izaya turned to follow Shirou’s gaze down to his shoulder and catch a glimpse of the damage done there. It looked deep — some of the pinprick holes from the wire already beginning to bleed again even after the splash of saline — but it was the parts where the wire had torn his skin apart upon being pulled free that made Izaya grimace, angry, jagged rips that he knew would leave an awful looking scar. “The skin looks too damaged for stitches.” Shirou murmured, pulling Izaya’s attention away from his arm. “It would probably be best to just wrap it up and try to stop the bleeding.”

Izaya just nodded, not in a headspace to do much of anything else. He sat where he was, teeth digging into his lower lip and anxiety swirling in his stomach as Shirou pressed some butterfly tape to the wider parts of the wound, covered it all in gauze, and then began winding a bandage around his upper arm. With the most pressing injury out of the way, Shirou then reached across Izaya’s lap for his hand. Izaya let him take it, rinse it and begin covering it with another bandage before the small cuts and larger bits of torn skin could start bleeding red back out over his fingers.

“What happened?” Shirou asked, letting Izaya’s hand fall back to his lap. Izaya kept his gaze trained on the fragments of broken mirror scattered over the tiles, glittering in the bathroom’s too bright light. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to talk about it, and especially not with Shirou. He wanted out of this house, this family, this tragically fucked up arc his story had taken. He wanted to go back to yesterday morning, when he’d woken up with Shizuo beside him and thought for a dangerously indulgent second that everything might actually be okay.

But it wasn’t okay; and this soft, gentle, careful version of Shirou wasn’t making him feel any better. It was confusing and frustrating and honestly broke his heart just a fucking little because why the hell had it taken something like this to happen for Shirou to finally bother treating him like he cared about him?

It doesn’t matter, Izaya thought to himself. But his eyes were getting hot, and his throat was closing up. Izaya turned his mortified gaze to the bathroom wall, blinking away the wet and keeping his face from Shirou’s view.

“Izaya.”

There was a feather light touch at the side of his face. Shirou’s fingertips grazed the side of his cheek to tuck strands of wet hair behind his ear and Izaya stiffened. He had look, had to know what he’d find shimmering in the other man’s eyes if he turned to face them. So he did. He moved slowly, and Shirou’s hand stayed by the side of his face as Izaya met his gaze.

Shirou’s brows were pinched, forehead creased somewhere between concern and confliction. It was such an out of place expression that for a moment all Izaya could do was stare confusedly up at him. And then Shirou’s gaze dropped a few inches down from his own, and recognition of the simple action flickered like a broken light in the back of his head; because he’d seen Shizuo do that too.

No.

Shirou’s thumb shifted against his cheek, Izaya stopped breathing with fast approaching panic, and while his brain was still busy trying to untangle horrified thoughts, his body sat frozen where it was instead of reeling back. Shirou ducked forward too fast, pressing his lips to Izaya’s own in a brief brush of skin on skin that lasted for all of the single second it took Izaya to finally jerk back with wide eyes and something sick curling in his stomach.

He almost lost his balance, had to close his bandaged hand in a grip around the ceramic edge next to him just to keep from falling back into the bathtub. His other hand went to his mouth, the back of his knuckles pressed hard to his lips like that might be enough to replace the memory of Shirou’s kiss. Izaya stared at the shock parting the other man’s mouth, at the fear widening his eyes and shaking in his outstretched hand, and then Izaya’s hand at his lips turned into an angry fist because why the fuck did he look so afraid when it was Izaya he’d just kissed.

“Izaya…”

Shirou’s voice was a murmur, a quiet plea, but Izaya had to go, he had to get out. Lungs flexing on short and shallow breaths, he felt like he was starting to suffocate. He got to his feet in a sharp burst of movement. With one hand holding the towel around his hips in place, he made for the open door without looking back.

“Wait—”

Izaya ignored it, because this wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening. He got to his room and closed the door behind him, let it take his weight as he slid down to the carpet. The air in here was colder, the window at the far wall still open to the icy outside. He was shaking, he knew, but his whole body felt fever hot, like he was burning up from the inside out. A prickling sensation covered the sides of his face, and back, and the hands Izaya was now using to claw at his chest, where he could feel his heart beating too fast and his lungs working too slow. The world was closing in on him, tunnelling his vision and seizing his muscles so tight he could barely move, even if there was some part of his brain just telling him to run.

“Fuck,” Izaya gasped, every frantic inhale convincing him that he actually couldn’t breathe, that his overwrought body and traumatised mind were finally giving way to a heart attack or a seizure, and there was nothing he could do about it except writhe half naked on his bedroom floor and wish he’d gotten to say goodbye to the people he loved. Hot tears burnt their way down his cheeks as he curled into a ball and let overwhelming panic clutch at every part of his body. He wanted to close his eyes, but he had a feeling that if he couldn’t see the spacious room around him he’d start to believe he was actually being buried alive.

He didn’t even have his phone, he realised distantly. Not that Shizuo would be awake this late, nor did Izaya think that he was really capable of moving his arms where they were caught between his chest and knees. So he just laid where he was, breathing too fast and absolutely terrified at the thought of passing out and never waking up. It felt like a very real possibility at this point — with his vision black-spotted and blurry — and that was enough to make him fight a little harder for control.

He tried to steady his breathing first, slowing down his inhales even though his body still screamed protest, still screamed it wasn’t enough. He imagined the prickling heat down his back was actually Shizuo’s fingers tracing his spine. The invisible pressure bearing down against him was just Shizuo’s body against his. And the too fast beat of his heart was just the out of sync rhythm of both their hearts together.

He imagined he was safe, that he was protected. He tried to pretend — for even just a second — that his carefully constructed world wasn’t falling down around him.

Izaya’s next breath came a little easier than the last, some of the vice tight tension in his chest easing enough to let his lungs move properly. He clung to that small flare of relief like it was a lifeline, holding tight for a number of minutes while the panic began to ebb and fade a little into the background. At least enough for him to uncurl his body and bring hands up to rub at his wet eyes and nose. He sniffled, using shaky limbs to push himself up to a seat.

I’m still alive, he thought to himself. I’m okay.

Well… No. He wasn’t okay. But his heart hadn’t exploded in his chest, and his brain hadn’t sparked itself into oblivion, so he was already doing better than he probably deserved.

Izaya got to his feet. He left his red and white towel on the floor while he stumbled across the room on unsteady feet in search for some sweatpants. Only once he wasn’t in danger of flashing his neighbours did he move to close the open window, cringing at the bloody handprints marking the pane and parts of the glass. He’d deal with it in the morning, along with everything else; because he barely had the energy to keep standing, never mind attempt to unravel every panicked thought racing through his head like there was a radio in his brain and someone kept changing the station.

Izaya laid himself down on the bed, careful to avoid putting any weight on his injured arm. He was still shaking so he pulled the blankets up to his chest. Panic had eased a good portion of it’s grip on his body, but his brain wouldn’t slow down, wouldn’t shut the fuck up, even as he begged it to give him just a moment’s peace.

“Stop,” He pleaded into his pillow. Eyes screwed shut to the noise in his head. He opened them again, and the images that had tried to take place in the dark behind his eyelids dispersed to make way for the moonlight streaming in through the glass on his red smeared window.

He didn’t want to think about it; the blood and the gore and the way he’d taken another person’s life was all bad enough, but somehow the memory of Shirou’s lips on his was worse. Because of course Izaya was fucked in the head, he knew that; of course he’d taken a blade to someone’s throat and made himself a murderer — some twisted part of himself wasn’t finding that too hard to believe either. But there must have been something so intrinsically wrong with him, something so inherently fucked up with Izaya’s very being for Shirou to be thinking the things he was, to be trying to kiss him, for this kind of thing to be happening again, after all this time and—

“Stop,” He sobbed, trying to break away from his thoughts before they carried him to a place he knew he wasn’t allowed to go. He flexed his bandaged fist under the sheets and found the sting of pain there to be more effective than anything else in keeping him out of his head. He closed his eyes again, and took a deep breath, but none of it really mattered because he’d already put another crack in the metaphorical glass, another hole in what was supposed to be an impenetrable wall. Big enough this time for his subconscious to bleed more black smoke into his dreams and stiffen his body with a sickening wash of shame.

Izaya kept his eyes shut, and when his exhausted awareness started to flicker and fade at the edges, he let himself be pulled down into a feverish half-sleep.

He dreamt of the shame, of a wobbly wooden chair sat in his room, of closed closet doors and the slippery weight of an extension cord, sliding smooth around his neck.

Chapter Text

“Take off your clothes.”............................................

......................................... “I’m gonna hack you to pieces."

“If you tell your parents, I’ll hurt them.”............................

............................................“I’m so sorry.”

“You want to keep them safe, don’t you?”.....................................

.........................................“What happened?”

“I’m not ashamed of you.”..........................................

.......................................... “Turn around and take off your—”

“No!”

Izaya shot up in bed with a broken shout and tears wet on his cheeks. His gaze darted frantically around the room, half afraid to find shadowy figures looming over him, bearing an axe, or their belt, or just the unshakable force of their fist in his hair.

But he wasn’t back in the warehouse, sliding in blood and hearing gurgled breaths, and he wasn’t downstairs, with Shirou seeking out his skin just to split it open, and he wasn’t back in his junior school classroom either. As Izaya took in his surroundings, fast breathing only just starting to slow, he realised he was just inside his bedroom — the one he’d grown up in, the one he’d thought for a terrifying number of minutes last night that he was going to die in too.

The previous day’s events came rushing back with the force of a blow. Izaya dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing his eyes as his thoughts once again began to race like they were each competing to be the fastest in capturing his attention.

I killed someone

...........................The police will be looking for me

And even if they aren’t, the gang certainly will be

...........................What happened to Kuza?

Shiki is going to be so mad

............................I need a new phone

Shirou tried to kiss me

............................I’m probably late for school

“Agh, shut up,” Izaya groaned, moving his hands to make fists of his hair, and then dropping them back to his lap when the action stung in the knuckles of one hand and throbbed in his opposite shoulder. He had to get up, he had to do something. Indulging in self pity for another moment more was a moment too many. He could either fix this or he could drown in it — and now that Izaya knew that feeling of what’d felt like suffocating, he’d do anything to get away from it, anything to curb that panicked fear; even if it took pretending to be someone else for a little while to do that — someone who wasn’t afraid, someone who didn’t care.

Looking across the room, Izaya noticed the door to the wooden wardrobe he’d had since being a child was open — the inside filled with clothes he rarely wore and memories he couldn’t touch. He pushed himself out of bed so he could cross the distance it took to stand before it, spare a loathing glance for himself in the mirror fixed inside the door, and then close it with a gentle click that betrayed the way he actually wanted to slam it shut so hard the glass broke and wood splintered. If it wouldn’t have put him at risk of disturbing the demon down the hall, he’d have done just that.

He turned for his dresser instead, opening draws and sifting through clothes so he could dress himself in dark jeans and a white button-up school shirt. Some red had bled through his bandages overnight, but Izaya didn’t care. As he pulled open his bedroom door and made his way down the hall to the bathroom, Izaya told himself he didn’t care about anything anymore; not the dark, fractured hole in the cabinet mirror, or the shards of glass still in the sink and scattered over the tiled floor, or the drops of his blood splattered around the place like artistic bathroom accents. None of it mattered — not what happened yesterday, or the day before, or any number of years ago. All that mattered was that he was alive, the world was still here, and nothing out there could hurt him any worse than it already had. He wouldn’t let it.

Izaya brushed his teeth and his hair as quickly as he could. On his way out of the bathroom he spotted his broken phone on the tiles by the door. He bent over and picked it up, trying the button on the side one more time but not not at all surprised when it did nothing. He should’ve been throwing it out anyway; blood had dried between the cracks in the screen and he knew he’d never really get it out. He put it in his back pocket with the intention of tossing it in a faraway dumpster after he left the house.

He stopped by his room to stuff his laptop and a few files on his desk into his schoolbag, and just before he left, made sure to open the draw in his desk and pick out a new flick blade to take with him. It wasn’t the same as the one he’d used last night — a different colour and slightly different shape — but a queasy sort of feeling still settled in his gut as he picked it up. He squeezed it into the front pocket of his jeans anyway, sliding the draw shut and making his way out of the room and down stairs to the kitchen.

Izaya wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to see, but Shirou hunched over and head-in-his-arms asleep at the dining table certainly hadn’t been it. Izaya very carefully made his way closer, hoping that if he was quiet enough he’d be able to pour himself a cup of coffee and leave without waking the other man up. Shirou had been drinking, he realised upon moving closer. There was a half empty bottle of Russian vodka on the table and a broken glass on the ground nearby. Izaya ignored both in favour of opening a cupboard to draw a mug free and pull the coffee pot towards himself at the same time. It was his own fault that in his haste to be as quick as possible he knocked another mug down out of the cabinet. It didn’t break as it hit the countertop, but the smack of ceramic on marble was still loud enough to stiffen Izaya’s shoulders and stop his breathing in his chest. Izaya reached out to pull the mug back in before it rolled over the edge of the counter and did his best to ignore the scrape of a chair as Shirou stood from the table behind him.

“Morning…” The other man murmured quietly. Izaya ignored that too, kept his gaze on the coffee spilling into his cup as Shirou went back to being silent. He didn’t deserve Izaya’s attention. Even after the coffee pot was back in its place and Izaya began taking small sips of the warm liquid, he still kept his back to the other man, listening to what he hoped was the dejected shuffling of him walking away. “I got you something,” The other man said, before Izaya was able to get his hopes up too high.

Izaya turned around, his curiosity getting the better of him like it so often did to a fault. He did his best to avoid Shirou’s gaze, and instead focused it on the small box stretched out in his direction. It was a phone — brand new and at least three times more expensive looking than the last one he’d had. “I know your other one broke,” Shirou explained, like that was any explanation at all. “It’s not safe to be out without one, especially after last night.”

Izaya’s jaw clenched because Shirou was right, he did need it, and more than that he goddamn deserved it. But taking it meant acknowledging it for what it was — an ‘I’m sorry for trying to make out with you last night, please forgive me’ present. And Izaya didn’t want to let Shirou get away with thinking this made up for anything — if he was trying to redeem himself with fancy gifts, Izaya thought waking up to his own high rise apartment wouldn’t even begin to cut it — and he also didn’t want to be carrying around a constant reminder of the previous night’s events.

“Thanks,” Izaya said instead of all the things he really wanted to, because loathe he was to admit it and as horrifying the thought, he was in debt to Shirou more now than he’d ever been before. Izaya wasn’t entirely sure what “taking care of it” had meant when Shirou’d reassured Izaya with it last night, but he was pretty sure that the other man was just as capable of un-taking care of it if he decided Izaya would be less of a nuisance in prison. Shirou held Izaya’s fate in the palm of his hand and that was terrifying, especially now that Izaya knew what the other man wanted from him — knew for sure. He thought about every leery gaze and hot-eyed stare and then he had to turn and put his mug of coffee down on the countertop because if he took another sip he was going to be sick.

“Izaya…”

“I need to get to school,” Izaya said by way of an excuse to head for the front door, stuffing his new phone into the bag on his shoulder.

“Izaya, wait—”

“I’m already late,” Izaya cut him off. Whatever it was he didn’t want to hear it, especially if it was going to be the apology it was starting to sound like. He pulled open the front door and stepped out into the cold morning air, only just realising as he travelled down the steps and out onto the street that he’d left his jacket inside.

Can’t go back now.

Arms wrapped around himself in some pathetic attempt at warding off the cold, Izaya walked to school with his head down and his brain on overdrive. He needed to think, needed to plan, but there were so many disorganised thoughts to unravel he didn’t know where and how to start.

Kuza.

He’d start there, where most of this god awful mess had originated. Izaya needed to find out where he was, what he knew, and think about how he planned to torture the bastard once he got his hands on him. He should be going to see Shiki first though. Izaya needed to get what information he could out of the other man before he handed him his informal resignation and hoped it didn’t come with losing too many fingers.

Next, he’d need to track down the gang. If most of them were still alive like he was assuming, he’d bet they were already planning a revenge strike. Izaya needed to stay out of their radar for as long as he could while he figured out how to keep them more permanently at bay.

You could just kill them, an insidious part of his mind whispered to him. You’ve already done it once and I bet it gets easier each time.

Izaya stopped in his tracks; the intrusive voice was shocking enough that it knocked all the other thoughts from his head. “No,” He answered it out loud. “That’s not true…” He couldn’t bare the thought that killing someone might become easy, because that was one step closer to it becoming good. And for all Izaya’s flaws, all the fucked up parts of himself he wished he could carve out and cut loose, he had to believe he wasn’t the kind of person that could come to enjoy the act of taking someone’s life.

Stop thinking about it, he said to himself, trying to push the encroaching gory images out of his head and get back on the train of thought his own mind had so rudely interrupted.

Yes. Right. He needed to do more research on what was left of the gang and figure out how exactly Shirou’d managed to play clean up from the other side of a phone — and if he’d done a good enough job to keep Izaya out of jail.

And then that left…

Shirou.

There wasn’t much he could do about that one. No amount of thinking or planning could undo what had happened last night. Even if Izaya kept going over it again and again, convincing himself that he could have tried harder to evade it, that he could have done something instead of just sitting there — in the end that wasn’t the problem.

It didn’t matter that Shirou had kissed him, it mattered that he’d tried. He’d taken away Izaya’s comfort in not entirely knowing what that dark flame in the other’s gaze was. He still wasn’t sure, if he was being honest with himself. Because most of the time Shirou met him with nothing but seething fury and violent fists, but that kiss had been gentle and careful, and somehow that made it feel so much more disturbing. He’d rather Shirou have done it after trying to beat him in a fit of sadistic rage, in a scenario where Izaya could have fought back, could have felt anger instead of fear, could be seething in hate instead of choking on shame.

He decided to be angry anyway. He’d let it take the reins and protect his broken ego, because at least being angry made him feel safe, made him feel strong, and it was easier to blame everyone else than accept the fact that he was the common denominator in all of his problems; that people like Shirou only acted that way around Izaya because they saw something in him that invited it.

Don’t say that. Another part of Izaya’s mind pleaded with him, in a voice that sounded a bit like a hurting child. Izaya resisted the urge to argue with it out loud. Forget about prison, if he started talking to the voices in his head like it was normal, someone was going to ship him off to a mental institution.

Izaya had no way of knowing what time it was once he reached the school, but the doors to the building were closed and the front of the schoolyard, empty, so he assumed it was sometime around mid-morning. When he made his way inside he found the halls were vacant too. He took his time wandering down the length of them and peering into windows. He had some vague plan of taking a few moments to breathe once he found the classroom, just a second or two outside the door to steady his resolve and pull a mask up over whatever compromising emotions might have been visible on his face. But while he’d disappeared into the back of his head to think, his body had taken over to push forward and open the door of the classroom. By the time Izaya came back to himself he was already inside, and everyone else filling the space had stopped mid-speech to stare at him.

Izaya’s gazed flicked between students in seats and the teacher at the front of the room. They were still staring, like he hadn’t been showing up late for the last couple weeks looking like an animal that’d gotten caught under the wheel of someone’s car. Did he really seem that much worse than usual?

Could they somehow tell what had happened…?

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Izaya snarled to the faces around him. He didn’t mean to, not really. There’d just been the sharp burn of anger and then the words were spilling free before he’d even formed them as a thought in his head, let alone made a decision to speak. The helpless fear that he really was starting to lose control of his own body was almost enough to have him bolting back out the door he’d come through. He didn’t though. Izaya just ducked his gaze to the ground and made his way to a desk at the back of the classroom. No one argued back, no one reprimanded him, no one said anything; the room was uncomfortably quiet as Izaya took a seat. It was making him feel a little embarrassed, but he tried to channel it into being annoyed instead.

The lecture Izaya had interrupted with his abrupt arrival resumed once more. He didn’t bother listening in — he wasn’t entirely sure what subject he’d walked into, let alone what topic they were in the middle of covering. He’d glanced over Shizuo and possibly Shinra upon entering the classroom, but he’d made sure it was brief enough to avoid eye contact. He tried to do the same now, to keep his eyes locked down on the desk in front of him and nothing else. He couldn’t risk catching Shizuo’s gaze, couldn’t bare the thought of looking into the other boy’s eyes and pretending he was the same. Even worse was the thought that pretending wouldn’t matter. Shizuo had this habit of being incredibly perceptive at the most inconvenient of times. Who was to say it wouldn’t take more than a second of eye contact or a short clip of conversation for Shizuo to see everything Izaya would do anything to hide; that all the carefully crafted masks and well thought out lies in the world wouldn’t be enough to keep Shizuo from finding out Izaya was actually the most disgusting human on the planet.

A pit was beginning to open up inside Izaya’s stomach. There was a soft tapping sound drawing him back to the present. When he shifted his gaze down he found his hands were shaking over his desk, his fingers fluttering to drum a frantic rhythm against the wood. He curled his hands into a grip around the edge of it just to get them to stop, but something in the simple action was making him feel worse. Maybe it was the way the sides of the wood felt hard and unforgiving under his palms. He knew how much it hurt to clip his hip on a corner, or have a sharp edge digging into the small of his back, or the soft give of his belly, or—

What’s happening to me?

That suffocating pressure in Izaya’s chest was back, like someone was cinching a belt tight around the width of his fragile lungs. A prickling, uncomfortable kind of heat was beginning to burn its way up his arms and over his head. He felt sick, like really sick. It was hard to remember what exactly he’d been thinking about just a few moments ago, what he’d been so afraid of to trigger this, because all he could feel now was the helpless horror that this was happening again, that he was going to have to go through what happened last night again — in the middle of a classroom with everyone here to watch.

No, no, no

Izaya looked up at the room around him half expecting it to be empty, and maybe for his clothes to be gone too. Nothing looked or felt real, and for some reason it seemed more likely that reality might have fractured apart and stranded him in his own personal nightmare than the possibility that the world was still turning as normal, that nothing had actually changed for anyone even though Izaya felt like he was a few seconds away from either having a heart attack or going completely insane.

He’d even had some fleeting half thought that he might be able to have a ‘discreet’ panic attack this time, that it might be possible to sit through it quietly without drawing anymore attention to himself, but the worse he started to feel, and the more that fear dug its fingers into the squishy parts of his brain, the less he was starting to care about anything except this being over. Even if that meant collapsing to the ground and pleading god for help.

He had to get out of here before it got to that point, and before he spilled his guts out onto the table in front of him because his stomach was twisting and turning like that was exactly what it had planned.

Izaya stood from his desk with a too-loud scrape of his chair. He didn’t stop to see if people were staring again, couldn’t really hear if they were speaking past the blood pounding in his ears. He just made his way through and then out of the classroom on shaky legs that he was too grateful to be surprised were still working. He ran down the hallway with one hand clutched to his chest and the other over this stomach; once he made it inside the boys bathroom he let both go to push open the weight of a toilet cubicle door and then slam it shut behind himself.

Izaya dropped to the ground. Without anyone there to see, he let himself gasp desperately for air and let frustrated, fearful tears begin to well in his eyes and roll down his cheeks. “Fuck,” He sobbed, slamming his head back against the cubicle wall. It felt like his entire body kept jerking with the force of each heartbeat, but that might have just been in his head. Izaya tried to remember what he’d done last time to make this stop but his thoughts were like a washing machine, a chaotic whirlwind of panic-stricken nonsense and focusing on any of it was making him feel dizzy.

He needed something to keep him out of his head, to keep him grounded. Izaya had some vague memory of flexing his fist to focus on the burn in his torn knuckles last time, and so he tried to do that again. It wasn’t enough, the pain there had already dulled to an ache since yesterday evening. He lifted his hand to dig fingers into the bandage around his arm instead, but then he had to let go with a sob because that was almost agony and the thought of doing anymore damage to that part of his body was making him feel worse.

He tried to remind himself this wouldn’t last forever, that if he could just hold on, just keep it together for a little while longer, it would fade and it would pass, and he’d finally be able to take a full breath. Izaya pulled his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself like he was an unborn baby because for some reason that made him feel like he was safer. Something was pressing discomfort into the line of his hip and he realised with a start that it was his knife folded over in the front pocket of his jeans.

Once again Izaya hadn’t really made the decision to tuck his hand down between the folded over length of his body. Half of his fractured awareness was still caught up in the washing machine, and the other half lost somewhere amid the violent pulse of his blood in his body. It was only after he’d already pulled it free that Izaya felt the cool metal weight of the open knife in his hand. It was grounding in and of itself; heavy and cold, like a tether to his body. Holding it had always given him some sense of peace; the fit of the handle under his fingers, the shine of the silver blade, it made him feel safe, protected, powerful. He tried not to let what he’d done with it last night poison that feeling too much.

What I did with it…

And now the images were back. Abstract and disjointed, but a thousand times more vivid now that he was panicking too. It wasn’t fair that he’d sacrificed so much of himself to escape that warehouse, only for it to follow him around in the one place he couldn’t get away from it — his head. Izaya tightened his grip on the knife, desperately looking for that anchor again, but just like the dull ache in his knuckles, simply holding the knife also wasn’t enough anymore. So without thinking too hard about it, Izaya let himself bring the blade down against the inside of his wrist and draw a slow line of red across the skin there.

Funny how sometimes pain felt like relief. Strange, the way it cleared his head instead of clouding it; that certainly hadn’t been the case for most of his life up until now. The pain he’d felt last night in the warehouse, or every time Shirou used force to draw it out of him had been like a heavy burden. And so the only reason Izaya could find for why this was any different was because this time he was in control. Looking down, he found the cut was quick to bleed, little red dots beading up and then tumbling down the side of his arm. He didn’t like looking at it, so when he dragged the knife along his wrist again, soft skin parting easily to make way for the blade, he did it with his eyes closed.

By the third time, he realised he was starting to feel a little bit better, almost as though his focus had been so enraptured for the last minute or so he’d forgotten he was supposed to be panicking. It was enough for his heart to slow just the slightest bit, and for Izaya to be able to convince himself it was already starting fade, that he was on the tail end of it now.

He kept going anyway, scared that if he stopped it might come back. After the sting of what he thought must have been the fourth, and then the fifth cut, Izaya let himself slump back against the wall with his eyes still closed and his attention halfway between the light burn in his wrist and the in-and-out rhythm of his breathing — slowing now that he’d found enough composure to try and control it.

Another minute and Izaya opened his eyes to look down at the mess he’d made of his arm. The cuts were all confined to the upper part of his inside forearm, but they weren’t neat and tidy and stacked together like he’d been picturing in his head. They were disorganised and chaotic, some crossing over each other, some longer than others, and all leaking lines of crimson down over his skin. He was just thinking about how he wished he’d brought his jacket to school, because how the hell else was he going to hide this, when the careful tap of footsteps on tile made him stiffen where he was.

“Izaya?”

“Fuck,” Izaya mouthed the word with little to no sound. The sudden onslaught of adrenaline just the call of his name brought with it felt close to painful coursing through his already exhausted, overwrought body. He only very briefly contemplated staying silent, because there was a good chance even that wouldn’t be enough to send Shizuo back out the way he’d come. “Yeah?” He answered instead, voice a little more shaky and thin than he would have liked. He quickly reached up over his head to tug at the roll of toilet paper hanging from the wall. He tore off enough to begin mopping up the blood on his arm and a few drops that had splashed onto the tiles.

“Are you okay?” Shizuo asked.

“I’m fine.” Izaya threw the stained bits of paper into the toilet, and then tore off another piece so he could scrub at the tears dried to his face. “What do you want?”

“I want to make sure you’re fucking okay,” Shizuo growled with some impatience hanging from his voice.

“Well, you don’t need to,” Izaya argued. “I already said I’m fine.”

There was silence for a moment, enough for Izaya to think Shizuo might actually have left without him hearing it, but then his voice rang out again, the frustrated edge his last words held replaced by something cold and sad.

“I don’t believe you.”

For fuck’s sake, Izaya thought to himself, burying his face in his hands. He shouldn’t have come to school today. If there were any windows set in at the back of the cubicle he’d have tried escaping through one — but there weren’t, and he doubted he’d have made it very far anyway when his body still felt like it was made of lead.

He didn’t want this. Why was it that when he was one thread away from falling apart, when he just wanted Shizuo to hold him, Izaya felt most compelled to push him away. He couldn’t decide what he hated more, the part of himself that craved that comfort so desperately, or the part of himself that said he wasn’t allowed it, that said needing it was what made him weak.

Izaya was truly fucking tired of being made to feel weak.

Chapter Text

Shizuo waited for the toilet door to open with enough anxiety to have him biting the inside of his cheek.

He was scared because Izaya had shown up late covered in bandages, scared because he hadn’t been answering Shizuo’s texts or calls since early this morning; but if Shizuo was being completely honest with himself, staring at the closed cubicle door, he was mostly scared because he had no fucking clue who was waiting for him on the other side.

It was Izaya, obviously — even feeble and far from its usual self, Shizuo would recognise the other boy’s voice anywhere. What wasn’t as obvious was which Izaya was going to step out and greet him. Was it going to be the one who’d yelled in class, that said awful things to his friends and treated Shizuo like he hated him? Was it going to be the one that drew in on himself like a flower closing up, that felt so far away and looked so empty, sometimes the sight of him made Shizuo’s chest ache. Shizuo hoped it would be the one he’d said goodbye to only the day before last, that’d pressed soft lips to his own and smiled like no one was looking.

But as the cubicle door dipped inwards and Izaya slipped out, Shizuo wasn’t entirely sure which one this was. It was hard to tell when the other boy headed straight for the sink and kept his head down. “What happened?” Shizuo asked, partly because he wanted to know, and mostly because he wanted Izaya to look at him.

“Nothing.” Izaya shrugged. “I just started to feel a bit sick.”

Shizuo could believe that; Izaya’s face looked sickly pale, but his eyes were also swollen red like he’d been crying. When the other boy began to wash his hands and splash water up over his face Shizuo noticed the bandage he’d first seen on his fist had now moved up to his forearm. It meant he could see the nasty scabbed over cuts and torn open skin marking the other’s knuckles and hand. It looked like he’d punched another tree, this time one with razorblades sticking out of it.

“Izaya.”

“What?” Izaya sounded exhausted. As he turned off the tap and used the bottom of his school shirt to dry his face Shizuo saw blood staining the bandage peeking out from under his shirtsleeve.

“What happened?” He asked again. “What happened to your hand and your arms? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Why were you so pissed off in class?”

Why won’t you look at me? Why does it feel like you’re going to push me away again?

“Ughh,” Izaya groaned, bringing both hands up to press the heel of his palms over his eyes. “Shut up, shut up!” He snapped. “Have you ever thought that it might just be you not minding your own fucking business that keeps pissing me off?”

Shizuo’s expression didn’t fall, his fists didn’t ball — from an outside observation it would have looked as though his body remained completely unresponsive to the other’s words; but it was on the inside where Shizuo’s heart was beginning to ache, and his stomach was beginning to turn. It’d been just over a day since he’d last seen Izaya, and only an evening and a morning since he’d last spoken to him on the phone, so what the hell had happened to him in that short span of time. Because something had, something had been happening for a long time before this, and not getting to ask questions, or understand, or beat the ever loving shit out of whoever kept doing this to the person he cared about was starting to make Shizuo feel like he was going a little crazy.

“So this is what it’s gonna be, huh? You just going in fucking circles telling me you care about me and then telling me to fuck off again? I swear to god Izaya this multiple personality shit is driving me in-fucking-sane!”

Shizuo was breathing hard when he finished, a strange mix of frustration, hurt and fear all tangling together where his head was supposed to be. He hadn’t meant to yell — he really hadn’t; a part of himself knew that it was only going to make things worse, but that part also tended to become background noise once Izaya started pissing him off. Shizuo had at least hoped it might get the other boy to finally look up from the dark curtain of his hair and meet his gaze, but Izaya just turned the tense line of his shoulders and the clenched curve of his jaw away so he could storm past Shizuo and head towards the bathroom door.

Shit.

“No, Izaya, wait—” Shizuo turned too, he followed the other’s movement and — in a burst of motion too quick to be a conscious decision — he reached out to grip Izaya’s closest upper arm and still him where he was.

“FUCK!!” Izaya’s shout echoed in the bathroom; his body fell to a knee on the tiles and his face fell into such agony that for a moment Shizuo was too shocked to do anything but part his mouth and stare. It was only as Izaya’s own hand came out to close around his wrist that Shizuo realised it was him that was making the other’s face twist on pain, it was him that’d forced free that desperate scream.

Sick to his stomach and full of escalating fear, Shizuo let go of Izaya’s arm as quickly as he’d first grabbed it. He hadn’t felt bones crunch, didn’t think he’d been holding on that tight at all, and then he looked down at his own hand to see some of it was wet with blood, and realised he’d seized the part of the other’s arm covered by that red speckled bandage. “Shit.” Shizuo dropped to his knees. “I’m so sorry, I— I didn’t mean to, I—” He stammered frantically, guilt pulling him closer beside Izaya even though he knew that was the last place he deserved to be.

“It’s okay,” Izaya let the words go on a shaky exhale. He was still hunched over in pain, face hidden by his hair and fists balled in his lap, but when he opened his mouth again it was to say, “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it’s my fault,” Shizuo half-whispered, like if he made less sound he might also take up less space in the universe. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” He wanted to reach out, wanted to comfort, but he was so fucking scared Izaya would flinch away if he tried. The bandage under the other’s arm looked like it was soaked now, and a few thin droplets of red were snaking their way down Izaya’s bicep. “Fuck, Izaya…” Shizuo let his fingers ever so carefully graze the inside of the other’s wrist. “Please look at me.”

Izaya shook his head.

“Izaya. Just—” Shizuo’s fingers trailed down to uncurl the other boy’s fist and close a soft hold around his hand. “Just look at me. Please.” He watched with bated breath as Izaya lifted his head, and slowly, carefully, finally, turned his watery gaze to meet Shizuo’s own, to look at Shizuo like he was afraid to.

“Please don’t push me away again,” Shizuo pleaded. “Whatever you’re so afraid of, I can protect you from it.”

Izaya held his gaze for longer than Shizuo really thought he would, but his heart still sank when the other boy eventually lowered it once more and then pulled his hand away from Shizuo’s own. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

Shizuo felt like rolling his eyes, he felt like shaking Izaya upside down by the ankles until the truth came out, but recently he’d found fighting really wasn’t worth the emotional damage it did to either one of them. “So, what? I’m supposed to just do nothing while you show up everyday looking like someone’s pushed you off a cliff?” He asked, hoping his distaste over the idea was apparent in the way he spoke.

Izaya didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” He answered, like it was obvious, like it made sense.

“And what if I can’t do that?”

Izaya looked up at him again with furrowed brows and a certain kind of fear in his eyes. If he was trying to figure out what shizuo’d meant by that, if it’d been just a stubborn hypothetical, or a thinly veiled threat to do exactly what it sometimes seemed like Izaya wanted, and fuck off for good, he was going to be trying for a while because, if Shizuo was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure which one it was either.

“Do you have a jumper I can borrow?” Izaya suddenly asked in what Shizuo thought was a blatantly obvious attempt at changing the subject. Was that seriously going to be his way of dealing with anything that made him feel uncomfortable or threatened his sense of safety? To just fucking ignore it like he was ignoring whoever kept hurting him, like he was ignoring Shizuo’s constant efforts to help him.

Whatever.

“Why, so you can get blood all over it?” He snapped. He didn’t really care about that, but knowing there was nothing he could do to get rid of that helpless feeling was starting to make him frustrated again.

Izaya glared, and then he glanced down at the snail-like trails of red slithering towards his elbow. “I was going to get rid of the blood first.”

“You need a new bandage on it. If you go to the nurse’s office and get it fixed properly, I’ll give it to you,” Shizuo bargained, pushing himself to his feet and then holding out a hand so he could pull Izaya to his own.

“Fine,” Izaya answered after a moment’s deliberation. He reached up with the arm that wasn’t bleeding and let Shizuo close fingers around his wrist — careful to avoid the cuts on his hand Shizuo wasn’t going to bother asking about — and help pull him up to stand.

“Fine. I’ll meet you there.” Shizuo walked around Izaya and headed for the bathroom door. He needed space to calm down. Out in the hallway he couldn’t decide if he wanted to put his fist inside another wall, or burst into frustrated tears, but neither were really an option right now so instead Shizuo tried to just breathe. In, out. In, out. It was going to be okay. He was going to fix this whether Izaya wanted him to or not. He just needed some time to figure out how he was going to do that.

By the time Shizuo stopped by his locker to get his jumper out, and then by the classroom to pick up his and Izaya’s school bags — he briefly explained to the teacher that Izaya was unwell and he was going to accompany him to the infirmary — Shizuo thought for sure Izaya would already be inside the nurse’s office, and not standing frozen outside it with his hand on the door knob.

“What are you doing?” He asked once he was close enough, startling Izaya out of wherever he’d been that obviously hadn’t been here.

“I’m just thinking,” He answered.

“About how to open the door?” Shizuo rose an eyebrow and gestured with a tilt of his head to Izaya’s hand still holding the door closed. If this was an elaborate ruse to get out of going inside, Shizuo was having absolutely none of it. He reached out to place his hand over Izaya’s wrapped around the door knob and then turned it so he could push inwards and let the door swing open. “There you go,” He said, in a show of consideration he was sure Izaya could tell he didn’t really mean. Izaya didn’t say thank you. He only shot Shizuo a slightly filthy look and then pushed the door the rest of the way open so he could step inside and Shizuo could follow him.

“Oh dear god what have you done to yourself now?” The nurse asked once she twisted around in her chair and caught sight of Izaya’s arm. Shizuo watched the other boy smile sweetly and then begin to lie with such ease that he thought rehearsing must have been what Izaya had actually been doing out in the hallway.

“Well, I was riding my bike late last night and accidentally ran into a barb-wire fence around someone’s property. My arm got all tangled up in it when I fell off and now every time I knock it on something, or some idiot tries to grab it, it starts to bleed again.” Izaya finished, and shizuo grit his teeth.

“Oh you poor thing,” The nurse cooed. “Take a seat on the bed and I’ll have a look.”

Since he hadn’t already been asked to leave, Shizuo dropped down into the chair beside the bed and watched as the nurse slipped on some gloves and began unravelling the stained bandage around Izaya’s arm. Once that was free, she slowly pulled back the gauze taped there, drawing a pained hiss from Izaya’s clenched jaw.

“Oh my…” Shizuo heard the nurse murmur. The wound looked fucking awful. It was messy and angry, and if Shizuo didn’t know without a doubt Izaya was lying through his teeth, he’d have half a mind to believe him because it did look like he’d been tangled up in barbwire. Shizuo could tell he was in pain too. As the nurse got to work quietly cleaning the wound of blood and gently replacing strips of butterfly tape, Izaya’s lip was caught between his teeth, and his fist caught around the sheets. Shizuo wanted to reach out and hold his hand, if not to offer comfort then at least distraction, but he was too afraid Izaya might pull away.

After the school nurse had finished and Izaya’s shoulder was covered once again, she turned to reach for his opposite forearm and the bandage wound around it.

“No.” Izaya jerked his arm away from her outstretched hand. “That one’s just a scratch, it’s fine,” He tried to explain, keeping his wrist pulled back protectively against his chest.

The nurse backed away with both hands in the air. “Okay, okay,” She surrendered, taking her gloves off and throwing them in the bin. “You can stay for another ten minutes, but then you’ll both have to go back to class.” She took a seat over at her desk by the door, and Shizuo turned to watch Izaya shuffle further back onto the bed and relax against the headboard.

“Not once since I’ve known you have I seen you on a bike,” He said flatly.

Izaya answered with a tight-lipped smile and a look that said to stop poking holes in his story. “I just started learning.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Shizuo rolled his eyes. Izaya could pretend all he wanted, but for better or for worse Shizuo would always see right through him — at least he hoped he would.

“Can you pass me that box in my bag?” The other boy asked.

Shizuo looked down at Izaya’s school satchel and the corner of the small white box sticking out of it. “You got a new phone?” He wondered, once he’d pulled it free and could eye the picture on the front. When he handed it over, Izaya took it eagerly, immediately tearing off the plastic and opening up the box.

“Yeah, my other one broke last night when I…” He paused for a moment, brows furrowed as he turned something over in his head. “Crashed,” He finally settled on. Shizuo watched him use one hand to reach behind himself and pull another phone free from his back pocket. As he placed it down on the white bed sheets Shizuo could see the screen was splintered beyond repair and a sheen of something burgundy brown had dried over the glass — darker between the cracks and around the edge of the phone case.

“Is that blood?” He asked, voice low enough to keep the nurse from hearing, but no less horrified at the thought.

“Don’t worry it’s not mine,” Izaya said, turning the phone over so he could pry off the back and start pulling a couple of small electronic cards free.

Shizuo couldn’t control his gaping mouth or pinched forehead anymore than he could the disturbed edge to his voice. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Izaya paused in his efforts to manoeuvre the cards into the back of the new phone so he could turn and glare at Shizuo instead. “It’s not supposed to do anything. If you don’t want honest answers to your fucking questions, don’t ask them in the first place,” He hissed with such sudden hostility, Shizuo was a little taken aback.

They held each other’s glower for a handful of seconds, and then Shizuo dropped it to scowl at his school shoes instead, and Izaya went back to setting up his new phone. He didn’t apologise, even though a part of Shizuo thought he probably should. It wasn’t that he didn’t want honest answers because god knew he fucking did. It was just that he also wanted answers that made him feel better and not worse, and most of all he wanted answers that didn’t just leave him with more anxiety ridden questions.

“Can you throw that in the bin for me?”

The sound of Izaya’s voice pulled Shizuo out of his head, where he’d been trying to come up with an explanation for all of this that didn’t scare the absolute shit out of him, and had so far only succeeded in inducing a migraine. He looked back up to see the other boy holding out his old, broken phone. Shizuo stared at it for a second, trying to reassure himself that Izaya wanted to get rid of it because it was broken, and not because it was evidence in some horrific murder. “Sure,” Shizuo mumbled, taking the phone and tossing it in the bin beside him, amongst Izaya’s blood-stained bandages and the school nurse’s latex gloves.

“You should text me something so I know it works,” Izaya said. Shizuo pulled his own phone from his pocket and opened up the message app. The long thread of unanswered texts he’d been sending Izaya since early this morning were still there. He ignored them all in favour of typing out a simple ‘hey’ and pressing send. Izaya’s phone went off a second later, and Shizuo sat quietly while the other boy fiddled around with replying to it. When Shizuo’s own phone buzzed in his hand he looked down to find Izaya had sent through enough of those waving emojis to make the corner of his lips turn up, even if it was just the slightest bit.

“Can I borrow your jumper now?” Izaya asked. He’d swung his legs over the side of the bed to get ready to stand while Shizuo hadn’t been looking.

“Sure.” Shizuo bent over to pull the same dark hooded jumper he’d let Izaya wear before from his school bag and toss it into the other’s lap. Once Izaya had slipped it on over his head, and without him having to ask, Shizuo reached out to begin rolling the too long cuffs of the sleeves up to the bottom of each of his wrists, just like he’d done last week on the bus back from the swimming carnival.

“Thanks,” Izaya murmured softly as he did so. While Shizuo drew his fingers back, he let them gently graze the cuts along the other boy’s knuckles. “You should probably head back now,” Izaya said, pulling his hand back from Shizuo’s view and pushing himself off the bed to stand. When he lifted his bag onto his uninjured shoulder and began heading for the door, Shizuo scrambled to grab his own own and catch up.

“What do you mean ‘I’ should head back?” Shizuo followed Izaya out into the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“I have some things to take care of,” He revealed, moving fast past all the classrooms, including their own. “I need to go see someone about something.”

Shizuo’s head was spinning again. It was always just when he thought the storm was beginning to settle, and Izaya was starting to soften, that it all of a sudden felt like he was being swept up by another tornado. “You know you’ve got this really fuckin’ annoying habit where you talk without actually saying anything,” Shizuo growled out with rising frustration because Izaya wouldn’t slow the fuck down. He had to keep fighting the urge to reach out and grab hold of Izaya’s arm again just to get him to stop. The doors leading outside of the school building came into view and when Izaya slipped through them, Shizuo followed after him. “Izaya, wait!” He called out with a little more urgency, but Izaya just ignored him, continuing on his path down the stairs and out towards the now closed school gate. “You can’t just leave!”

“I’ll be back before the next class,” He replied without pausing in his forward movement.

Shizuo tried to take a deep breath. “Fine. Then I’m coming with you.”

Finally Izaya stopped. He let go of a frustrated sigh that was louder than it really needed to be and turned around to fix Shizuo with a glare. “No, you’re not,” He warned. “I need to go by myself, and you need to stay here and cover for me.”

“No fuckin’ wa—!”

“This isn’t a negotiation!” Izaya snapped, fists balled at his sides and fiery red eyes narrowed at Shizuo before him. “I'm going. You’re staying.”

Shizuo opened his mouth, and then he closed it again. He’d run out of words, run out of patience, and Izaya must have been able to tell that he was very close to crying, because when the other boy spoke again his voice was softer and some of the sharp edges were falling away from his expression. “Please. This is important. Just—” Izaya took a step closer, reaching out to place his hands on either one of Shizuo’s shoulders. “Wait for me. Okay? I promise i’ll be careful.”

Those hands moved to lock at the back of his neck, and Shizuo felt some of the tension loosen its grip on his body. “Okay,” He surrendered, because he was quickly coming to realise that when Izaya was being this stubborn, Shizuo pushing back only made things worse, only made him feel worse.

“Okay,” Izaya echoed. When he leant up and forward to press his lips against Shizuo’s in a gentle kiss, Shizuo closed his eyes and let himself indulge in the relief the simple contact brought with it, even if it was only for the few seconds it took before Izaya pulled back. The other boy offered no goodbye, and no departing wave, he simply turned on his heel and began scaling the chain-link fence with a strength Shizuo was sure he’d have been sapped of with the injuries decorating his body. But Shizuo watched him jump down and land with both feet on the other side, and then immediately break into a jog that was headed down the street and off towards the centre of town.

Only once he was completely out of view did Shizuo let his disheartened gaze fall to the ground as he turned around and headed back inside the school.

Chapter Text

Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The words were a mantra in Izaya’s head. Even as he began to feel dizzy, and sick, and the pain in his arm flared to new heights with every jolting step, Izaya didn’t slow down and he definitely didn’t stop. He needed this all to be over as quickly as possible and that meant getting there as quickly as possible.

He still felt a little guilty for leaving Shizuo like that, but the harsh reality was there were more important things to worry about right now than the other boy’s delicate feelings. Besides, he knew he’d do less damage to their relationship if he stayed away for the moment; someone that felt like they were literally losing their mind probably wasn’t the best company.

And so Izaya continued to jog through Ikebukuro, taking backstreets and alleyways that would lead him out to the darker side of town. He hadn’t bothered calling ahead, which he knew was a dangerous game to play, but at this point he was also struggling to give a fuck about anything that wasn’t an immediate threat on his life. When he’d turned his new phone on earlier in the day, there’d been enough messages and voicemails coming through that he’d thought about turning the damn thing straight back off again. Most of the messages were the ones he’d missed from Shizuo earlier this morning, and most of the voicemails had come from Shiki late last night. Izaya had only listened to one while he’d first started running before he’d decided that listening to anymore, and in turn filling his head with all of the things Shiki may or may not have been thinking was going to make him want to turn around and run back home.

When Izaya found he was close to the building, he slowed to a walk and tried to catch his breath. It meant that when he made his way up to the closed door, empty save for the half a dozen security cameras poised around the place, it was with one of his most well crafted masks pinned perfectly into place.

He stopped outside the door and looked up into the camera sitting over it. Less than a few seconds passed before the door was being slid open and one of Shiki’s bodyguards were appearing to eye him up and down. Very quickly they pulled the door the wider and stepped aside to usher him in. The whole thing went with lot less fuss than he’d honestly anticipated, and that wasn’t reassuring, because Izaya had a sinking feeling they’d been expecting him for a while now and what that meant for his wellbeing he wasn’t entirely sure.

He’d only been here a handful of times since he started working for Shiki, since most of the information he collected could be passed along over the phone or online — with the exception of a few very important pieces that required the extra discretion of showing up in person. On each occasion he hadn’t had much time to look around before being escorted into Shiki’s office, and now seemed to be no different. The bodyguard knocked twice at the door, and then Shiki called out from inside. The door was pushed inwards, Izaya was pushed past it, and then the surly man disappeared behind him with the click of the door closing.

“Orihara-san. Nice of you to finally get in touch.”

Shiki was sat at his desk, hands clasped over the top, a glass of half drunk whisky at his side. Izaya stepped further into the room with a polite smile at his lips. “Shiki-san,” He greeted. “My apologies for avoiding your calls.”

When Izaya had first thought about coming here, he’d imagined himself being cold and ruthless, in and out without wasting time on formalities or explanations. But now that he was here, he was starting to feel nervous, nervous like he hadn’t felt even on his first day of meeting Shiki. He wondered if the other man knew what had happened. He wondered if that was why he’d called him so many times last night. Was it safer to play dumb or assume the worst?

“Please, take a seat.” Shiki unclasped one of his hands to gesture out towards the empty seat on the other side of his desk. Izaya slipped into it carefully, placing his school bag down on the ground. “So, are you alright?” The older man asked, his expression too serious to be reassuring.

Izaya pretended to relax anyway. He leant back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and let his hands rest in his lap. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked.

Shiki unclasped his fingers to reach for his whisky filled glass instead. “Well, I haven’t been able to contact you for some time now,” He said, bringing the drink to his lips for a short sip before placing it back down on the desk again. “And I know you’ve recently lost someone. I wanted to offer my condolences in person.”

“Oh…” Izaya dug the nail of one thumb into his palm. “Thank you,” He said politely, “But I’m fine.”

Shiki leant back in his chair. “Right,” He said, expression entirely unreadable. If by some small miracle he didn’t know what had happened, Izaya thought the safest thing to do was get the hell out of here before that somehow changed. He ducked down to pull a few files and a small usb from his school bag before placing them gently on the desk. “And what’s this?” Shiki asked.

Izaya pushed the files further across the table. “Everything I owe you.”

“So this is you settling your debts then?” The older man questioned, pulling the documents closer so he could flip through them with a casual grace. “Are you trying to tell me you want out?”

This was making Izaya more anxious than he’d thought it would. He shrugged noncommittally. “Finding the time to gather information amongst everything else going on has been more tedious as of late,” He explained.

“Mm.” Shiki closed the files and once again leant back in his chair. “And that’s the only reason?”

Izaya wasn’t quite sure what was happening; was Shiki fishing for something or just being overly suspicious? Izaya’s polite smile was probably starting to wear a little thin, but he hoped the other man wouldn’t notice. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Izaya held the stare Shiki settled him with for what felt like an uncomfortably long amount of time. He didn’t shrink down, or shift nervously, or cast his gaze away, but hidden under the desk he’d gone back to digging nails into the skin on one hand. Just when Izaya thought his resolve was beginning to crumble, Shiki’s blank stare flickered on a smirk.

“As entertaining as this game of chicken is, I’m sure you’ve got places you’d rather be. So why don’t I make this easier for you.” The older man pulled a few photographs free from his desk draw and tossed them across the table. As Izaya peered down at them, a sick dread began to claw its way into his chest. There was nothing he could do to stay grounded in his body. It felt like the photos were sucking him in and taking him back, back where he really didn’t want to go. “So this is your handiwork then?” Shiki asked, but Izaya wasn’t listening. He was back in the warehouse, with adrenaline running so high he felt like he was choking on it, fighting so hard for a chance at a life he was starting to think he didn’t deserve. He felt sick, he felt—

And then Shiki was reaching out to pull the photos back across the table out of view, and Izaya felt like he’d just now been granted enough air to take a full breath.

“You always did have a flair for the dramatic. I’d say I’m impressed but that’s probably not what you want to hear.” Shiki said casually, staring down at the pictures in his hands — at the blood spattered wall, and floors, and the empty shell of a body Izaya had personally taken upon himself to bleed dry.

“No, not really,” Izaya said quietly, because there probably wasn’t any point in denying it now. He swallowed nervously once more and found his mouth was very dry. Shiki didn’t look angry, although Izaya was starting to wonder if he’d even be able to tell if he was.

He tried to tell himself that this was okay, it was okay that Shiki knew. If Izaya was being honest, a part of him wished Shiki had been the first to know, because maybe he’d have been the first to help him too. Izaya knew that Shiki wasn’t a ‘good’ person by most people’s standards, and in reality most of what he knew about the man was probably very little, but Izaya had a feeling that Shiki would have helped him, and any strings that came attached would have been professional ones. Shiki wouldn’t have kissed him.

Probably.

He was the only older male he’d had in his life that hadn’t betrayed his trust. The only person he looked up too that hadn’t somehow taken advantage of him. Well at least that’s what he’d thought until last night.

“So, are you going to tell me why you thought getting involved in something like this was a good idea?”

Izaya laughed — just a short, sharp huff of breath. Anger was flaring to life in his chest, tensing his muscles and smothering his nervous civility, so when he spoke it was with a disregard for his current position, and the voice in the back of his head that kept telling him to be careful. “You’re joking, right?” He asked. “If you know what happened, I’m sure you know who forced me into this. If you hadn’t sent that idiot to tail me, none of this would have happened!”

Even as Izaya’s voice rose in volume and hostility, Shiki’s flat-faced expression barely budged. “I sent Kuza to check on you since you’ve been ignoring my attempts to contact you,” He explained calmly, only the slightest crease beginning to form between his brows. “I wasn’t aware he had something like this planned, nor was I under the impression you were the kind of person that could be ‘forced’ into anything,” He said. “Aren’t you capable of turning someone down?”

In a burst of movement that Izaya swore was not entirely his own, he sprang to his feet, slammed both hands down on Shiki’s desk and yelled, “I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!”

The room was silent save for Izaya’s heavy breathing, chest rising and falling under the weight of Shizuo’s too-big jumper. Behind him he could hear the click of a door opening, no doubt one of Shiki’s loyal bodyguards coming in to cut down whoever dared yell at their boss, but Shiki simply held his hand in the air for a brief moment and then Izaya heard the door behind him close. “Sit down,” Shiki ordered, voice firm and brows furrowed, but nowhere near as enraged as Izaya had been expecting, as he thought the other man probably should be. With some deflating confidence, Izaya stepped back from the desk and sat down in his chair, all the while still holding the older man’s serious gaze. “You always have a choice, Izaya.”

Shiki’s words felt like a punch in the gut, and Izaya’s breath rushed out of him at the impact. He wasn’t sure if the other man had intended to lay a double meaning over the words, or if it was just Izaya’s guilt conscience reading into things, but either way his heart clenched painfully; because when he’d yelled he hadn’t even been thinking of Kuza, he’d been thinking of the man he killed, he’d been thinking of Shirou, he’d been thinking of back then when—

Izaya fought the urge to whimper miserably and instead curled his hands into fists. No-one was supposed to be able to force him into anything he didn’t want to do. No-one was supposed to be able to blackmail him. He was capable of turning someone down. He always had a choice.

If that was true, if Shiki was right, then Izaya had chosen to kill that man. Izaya had chosen to let Shirou kiss him. He’d chosen to be—

“Well,” Shiki sighed, interrupting Izaya’s panicked thoughts and pulling him back to the present. “I guess I’m just glad it’s them on this end and not you.” He gave the photographs one last look and then deposited them back inside the draw of his desk. Izaya hoped to god he never had to see them again. “For what it’s worth, I apologise if my actions somehow led to your involvement in this,” He said seriously, hands clasped over the table and gaze steady on Izaya’s own. “I’m sure that wasn’t a… pleasant experience for you.”

Izaya was a little taken aback; in all his blameful insolence he’d been expecting more of an argument than an apology. “No,” He replied to Shiki’s dramatic understatement. A pleasant experience, it was not. He wished he could be brushing it off to the other man, casually disregarding the whole thing like it hadn’t affected him at all, like it had been merely an inconvenience to his evening, but Izaya had been made rudely aware that he was nowhere near as insensitive, detached and morally ambiguous as he liked to think he was. Judging by the way he’d reacted to their conversation thus far, and if Shiki hadn’t already thought so beforehand, he had a feeling the other man now knew that too. At this point, Izaya thought that pretending would make him look more pathetic than simply being honest.

Shiki had gone back to studying the files Izaya had brought him, flipping through and more thoroughly analysing the information there. “This is good,” He admitted, and Izaya tried to smother the small flare of pride that always came with the older man’s praise. “If you want to cut ties, I’m not going to stop you, but it’s going to be a shame to lose such a valuable resource as yourself.”

Izaya frowned. He didn’t want to cut ties. Most of the time he absolutely loved this job, sometimes he felt like he was made for it. He didn’t want to lose it like he was losing everything else. Izaya worried at his lip as he turned everything over in his head. “I don’t want to quit,” He confessed. “I think I just need some time off.”

“Of course.” The older man nodded agreeably. “Take as long as you need.” As Shiki once more reached for the glass of whisky at his side, Izaya took a moment to steel himself for what he was about to say next.

“I’d like to make a trade.”

Eyebrows risen, Shiki pulled the glass back from his lips to settle it down beside him. “A trade?” He asked.

Izaya nodded. “In information.” He gestured to the files on the table. “In exchange for what I’ve given you I’d like information on someone.”

The request was enough to pull an amused huff of breath from the other’s mouth, and Izaya worried for a moment that perhaps he was being a little bit too brazen. “Isn’t that usually your department? What makes you think I can help?”

“I have a feeling it’s someone you know personally.”

Shiki’s lips uncurled into something a little more serious. “In that case, I’ll have to know who it is before I make any decisions.”

“Shirou Orihara.” The other man’s eyes flickered on recognition, his expression a scrutinising mix of surprise and intrigue. “So you do know him?” Izaya insisted.

“Of course I do.” Shiki leant back in his chair. “Who do you think called me last night to help clean up your massacre?”

Izaya stilled. Any confidence he’d been feeling before now seemed to evaporate immediately. Shiki had been the one to help Shirou clean it up? All this time? How the hell had he tolerated Izaya’s blameful accusations and adamant demands while knowing he was the one that was still in debt?

“Why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Shiki continued, “Are you not getting along?”

Izaya wanted to laugh, but he was starting to worry that if he allowed himself to express one emotion, they might all come pouring out. “You could say that,” He said instead.

Shiki eyed him for another few uncomfortable moments. Izaya wasn’t sure what the other man was seeing, but it must have been enough to reassure him, because when he opened his mouth again it was to say, “Alright.” Izaya forced his expression to stay impassive, and waited patiently for Shiki to continue. “He worked with us for some time. Smuggling, finances, a bit of information collecting. Occasionally he took care of some people that were giving us trouble.” Izaya listened avidly, committing every word to memory so he could analyse it again later. “He’d managed to secure important positions in a few powerful businesses — it meant he had a lot of sway in the corporate world he could use to our advantage. He was a valued part of this group.”

“What happened?” Izaya asked hesitantly, because something was telling him he had to tread carefully here.

The older man sighed. “He’d always been a bit unstable, but one day something changed. He was aggressive, kept talking about someone he wanted to take out. He wouldn’t tell me why, and I said it was too risky.” Shiki brought a hand up to massage the crease between his brows, like the mere memory was enough to give him a headache. “The next day I found out he did it anyway. There was a bit of a fuss, the guy had a family, and I was pretty pissed. He ended up leaving that night — at the time I’d assumed to go underground for a while, but I never saw him again.” Shiki dropped his hand and offered Izaya a wry smile instead. “So you can imagine my surprise when nine years later I get a call asking for a very important favour.”

Izaya nodded slowly, trying to ride the fine line between taking in all of the information and not thinking too hard about some of it. A part of what he was hearing knocked at closed doors in his head, but Izaya did his best to leave them alone and focus on something else instead. “So all this time you knew who I was to him?” He asked. And then, with some disappointment gripping his heart, “Is that why you hired me?”

“Yes,” Shiki answered, like Izaya had a feeling he was going to. “I gave you a chance because I was hoping to find that same intelligence, ruthlessness, and passion in you that I saw in him.” He explained, leaning forward on his elbows to fix Izaya with a sincere expression. “I kept giving you work because I saw all that and more. Even with the little time you’ve been working for us, you’ve already proved yourself to be a more valuable asset than your father ever was.”

Izaya’s eyes widened, a little surprised by the other man’s earnestness, even if it was doing a wonderful job of raising back up what had been his quickly deflating pride. “Even after last night? After what I did?”.

“We both know that wasn’t the same circumstance.” Shiki countered. “And even so, you’ve still caused me significantly less trouble than your father did.”

Interesting.

“What was his name, the man he killed?” Izaya asked.

Shiki took a moment to look pensive as he tapped two fingers on the table. “I don’t remember off the top of my head,” He admitted. “I can find out and text it to you later.”

“Okay.” Having something like this on Shirou would be invaluable. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough to blackmail him, but at the very least it might bring Izaya one step closing to understanding Shirou enough to manipulate him. “Can I ask you something else?” When Shiki gave a short nod in response, Izaya continued, “If Shirou decided he wanted to use what happened last night against me, could he undo everything you’ve done to help?”

“You think that’s something you need to worry about?” Shiki asked, concern creasing at his forehead.

“Yes,” Izaya assured him.

“Anything I did for him last night, I did as a favour to you, not to him.” Shiki said firmly. “I wouldn’t sell you out if that’s what you’re asking, but I only played a part in covering everything up. If he really wanted to destroy you, there’s only so much I’d be able to do.”

Izaya swallowed. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He sat in silence for a few moments, staring down at the scabbed over cuts on his hand, feeling that familiar sense of helplessness unfurl just under his ribs.

“So, are you alright?” Shiki asked again, repeating the same question he’d fixed Izaya with upon first sitting down.

No, Izaya thought to himself. I lost someone I loved, I recently became a murderer. In between beating the shit out of me, my dad has tried to kiss me. My mind feels like its falling apart, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose everything that means anything to me.

“Yes, I’m fine,” He said out loud instead, because if Shiki still thought he was worth something, Izaya wasn’t going to risk changing that. He stood from his seat and pulled his schoolbag up onto his shoulder. If he didn’t get back soon, he was worried Shizuo might come looking for him.

“You should keep a low profile for a while.” Shiki said as Izaya made his way to the door. When the other man called his name, Izaya paused with his fingers on the handle and turned to look back over his shoulder. “Be careful,” Was all Shiki said, a grave expression darkening his features.

Izaya nodded quickly, and then before he turned back to open the door, “Thank you,” He said sincerely. Shiki’s lips quirked on a small half-smile, and Izaya turned away to pull the door open and step out of the older man’s office.

Chapter Text

Only once Izaya was out of the Awakusu building, around the adjacent corner and down the opposite road did he stop to lean against a wall and make an attempt at collecting his thoughts.

They were all razor sharp and searing hot; every time he tried to grab at one, the metaphorical weight of it would burn him and he’d have to let it go. Despite wanting to inspect those thoughts closer, to follow the trails leading back in his head, it felt like someone kept slapping his hand away, telling him not to touch. Part of the reason it was difficult to fight that was because part of him really didn’t want to. For the moment, listening to that voice came with some sense of relief that seemed to outweigh both his curiosity and his constant need to think.

And so Izaya let the empty chaos linger while he pushed himself off the wall, pushed his hands into the pockets of Shizuo’s hoodie, and pushed his feet to carry him over the sidewalk, back in the direction of his school. He could think about it later, when he had the time and the energy to carefully dissect what he wanted without coming across something he didn’t. Izaya kept his gaze on his shoes as he walked. It meant he didn’t see the shadow loitering in the alleyway until he was directly across from it and the sound of a familiar voice was pulling his attention up from the ground.

“Well, well, well…” The casual cadence drifted out from the shadows. “You look like you’re in surprisingly good health.”

Izaya’s gaze narrowed at Kuza emerging from the mouth of the nearby alley. “You,” He hissed with all the venom he could muster. He felt very nearly rooted in his spot with the immediate surge of rage burning through him; like a red-faced, brow-creased tree stuck to the edge of the sidewalk. Thankfully Kuza was the one to take a handful of steps forward, so all Izaya had to do was pivot on his feet and bring them face-to-face.

Kuza looked down at him with a smirk, face a canvas of purple bruising and red, scabbed-over cuts. His eyes raked Izaya’s body up and down, searching for the injuries he wasn’t going to find. Some parts of Izaya’s face were still faintly discoloured or scarred, but most of that had been there before last night. The true marks of his battle were hidden under the weight of Shizuo’s borrowed jumper and Izaya was going to keep them that way.

“I honestly thought you might have been dead,” Kuza said without looking very concerned at the idea. "But here you are without a scratch.” He huffed a single, short laugh close enough for it to displace some of the hair on Izaya’s forehead. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised, I should have known you’d be tougher than you look.” Smile stretching to bare some of his teeth, and eyes darkening with something Izaya couldn’t name, Kuza looked down on him as he spoke. “Even so, you’ve really outdone yourself this time, Orihara-kun. You put on a spectacular performance — I only wish I’d been there to see the show instead of just the aftermath.”

Izaya hated this boy, he hated him. Clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, Izaya glared absolute fire at Kuza before him. For some reason that only seemed to make his smile pull the wider.

“Man, what a bloodbath. I couldn’t stay for long but it certainly looked like you had fun,” He said. “A couple of guys had a half a foot hanging off, there was blood everywhere, and I can’t believe you actually managed to kill one of them!” He exclaimed passionately, like Izaya had done something worthy of a medal and not a prison sentence. “Don’t give me that face,” Kuza’s grin fell back into a satisfied smirk, but his eyes retained the unhinged darkness. “You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t enjoy it,” He said with a low dip of his voice. When he tipped far enough forward that their hair began to brush, Izaya fought to stay where he was without leaning back or looking away from the sinister shine of Kuza’s gaze staring deep into his own. “Only a psychopath could do what you did and come away exactly the same.”

Izaya imagined himself in vivid detail throwing Kuza up against the wall, imagined the other’s head snapping back against the bricks with every drive of Izaya’s fist into his already injured face. A warm sense of satisfaction drifted down his body, but Izaya knew he was going to have to leave the fantasy as just that. No matter how much his body ached to channel his anger into physical force, he couldn’t risk putting himself in a position that might countermand any of the work Shiki had done to give him some distance from all this trouble. He wasn’t sure if the older man had offered the same assistance to the boy before him, but Izaya wasn’t going to ask. He needed to leave, he needed to forget about Kuza; as difficult as it was going to be he needed to start acting like last night never happened.

Izaya spent one last moment glaring into the other’s dark eyes, before stepping away with a put-upon, exasperated sigh. This was just another role to play, he told himself. One where he didn’t care; where Kuza’s words didn’t burn like flaming arrows and Izaya wasn’t one loose thread away from unravelling completely. “I have no idea what you’re taking about,” Izaya said, a stiff smile plastered onto his his face. “I was stuck at home all of last night doing homework. It sounds like you had quite the evening though, I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble.”

Kuza’s eyes widened in the first display of genuine surprise Izaya had seen since meeting him. Izaya knew that his fake alibi very much relied on Shirou’s willingness to cooperate but Izaya was banking on the idea that his father wouldn’t have put so much effort into helping him if he wasn’t willing to cover for him too. “Right,” Kuza said blankly, face settling into an emotionless canvas. “So that’s how it is.” Izaya watched on warily as the other boy’s expression seemed to cycle through a range of emotions before finally settling on an anger that left him with crazed eyes and a vicious smile, stepping forward to follow after Izaya’s recent retreat. “You’re not going to take responsibility for this either,” He said. “Daddy helps clean up your mess once again, and you’ve managed to get Shiki-san on your side this time too. What do you think he’d do if he knew your filthy little secret?”

Another step back and Izaya would be on the road, so he stayed where he was as Kuza’s bloodthirsty gaze bore down into his own. “You can tell him about the pills,” Izaya said, previous smile replaced by an uncertain frown. “I don’t care anymore.”

“I’m not talking about the pills.”

Izaya’s brows furrowed, anger, confusion and maybe a little bit of fear pulling at the edges of his apathetic facade. Kuza looked down on him, malicious and knowing, and Izaya’s brain reeled with the effort of putting everything the other boy kept saying together in a way that made sense.

“You really make a habit of bending over for older men, don’t you? Even now,” The other boy sneered cruelly. Izaya flinched back, affronted by the slanderous insult that fell with all the force of a slap across his face. Growing indignation had his hands curling into fists at his sides “Tell me,” Kuza continued carelessly, “Do you do the same for Shiki-san? Is that why he’s helping you?” Kuza took one last step forward, close enough to leave their chests touching and Izaya’s head tilted up at an uncomfortable angle. “Tell me,” He repeated once more, his breath a whisper of air against the grimace curling Izaya’s lips. “Do you do the same for your wretched father?”

The low growl vibrating in the back of Izaya’s throat sounded inhuman even to his own ears. If the circumstances were different he might have spared a moment to laugh at how spending so much time around Shizuo had rubbed off on him.

But they weren’t.

And he didn’t.

Rage washed over him in overwhelming waves. Izaya felt too sick to go on looking at Kuza, so he dipped his gaze down to stare unseeing at the hollow of the other’s throat instead. “Uh oh, have I struck a nerve?” Kuza chuckled, the amused lilt of his voice a stark contrast to the previous dark scrape of it. Izaya didn’t reply, and he didn’t breathe, and when he pulled his wide-eyed gaze back up to Kuza’s own — vision swimming in red, a deranged fury curling sinuously around his throat — he had a satisfying second to witness some concern flicker over the other’s expression before he was reeling his fist back and then throwing it forward to land in the centre of Kuza’s face.

Kuza stumbled back, clutching his nose and grunting in pain. Their close proximity meant Izaya hadn’t had enough room to punch properly, but it didn’t seem to matter, because when he lunged forward to fist a hand in the front of the other boy’s shirt and slam him with all his strength against the brick alley wall, Kuza’s hand fell away and Izaya got to watch the blood from his broken nose trickle freely down over his lips.

“I did, didn’t I?” Kuza asked, under Izaya’s grip on his shirt he could feel the other boy’s body begin to shake. It wasn’t until Kuza tossed his head back and open his mouth that Izaya realised he was laughing. Izaya watched on with wide eyes and furrowed brows as the hysterical guffaws rolled out of him in waves, teeth stained red from his bloody nose and eyes squeezed shut with the force of his laughter. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Izaya grit his teeth and pinned Kuza harder against the wall. He was feeling disturbed, and confused, and it was only making the fury flare to a greater heat inside of him. He pulled his closed fist back and snapped it forward again in another punch to Kuza’s face, the satisfying sound of his head cracking back against the bricks for the moment louder than his obnoxious laughter. It didn’t last, and Izaya held back a frustrated scream as the other’s demented cackling returned. “Shut up!” He yelled, using his grip on Kuza’s shirt to jerk him away from the wall and throw him to the ground.

“Isn’t that just so ironic??” That same manic amusement was dancing in his eyes, but when Kuza opened his mouth again to yell, the unhinged mirth slipped away and his voice cracked on something desperate, and angry, and sad. “Doesn’t it make what he did so fucking pointless!?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you degenerate!” Izaya shouted back, dropping to the ground with knees on either side of Kuza’s waist so he could replace one fist in Kuza’s shirt and snap the other across his face once more. He’d used his left hand this time, and the pain in his shoulder for a moment made him think he might’ve done more damage to himself than the boy before him, but he needed the power in his dominant arm to make Kuza hurt, to make him stop. If he just hit hard enough maybe he could use the other boy’s pain to drown out his own. Izaya pulled his fist back again to do just that but Kuza’s hand came out to lock around his wrist and stall it’s downward motion.

“Don’t lie to me,” The older boy snarled furiously, teeth bared and bloody. He shoved hard at Izaya’s injured shoulder to roll them along the concrete in a tangle of angry limbs and grazed skin. Further inside the alleyway Izaya finally came to a stop with the weight of Kuza pressing down on him. He didn’t even have the time to push at the other boy’s chest before one set of Kuza’s fingers were closing tight around his throat and the other were flying forward in a fist to crack across his cheek and force his head to the side.

Izaya gasped a breath to clear his blurry vision, but the next one choked to nothing in his throat as Kuza’s second hand joined the first in a grip around his neck. “It’s all your fault,” Kuza growled, murderous rage twisting at his face. He leaned forward to bare more of his bruising weight onto Izaya’s throat; the pressure was as painful as it was suffocating, and Izaya clawed desperately at Kuza’s wrists in an effort to ease it.

I don’t understand.

He tried to open his mouth and speak but the words were strangled to silence, and when Izaya’s chest began to burn from lack of air and his stomach clenched over the prickling spread of true panic because maybe Kuza wasn’t going to let go, he began to frantically kick his legs in the hope it might dislodge the weight on top of him. It didn’t, but it left enough room between them that Izaya could drive a knee up and into Kuza’s groin, once, twice, until the other boy was hunched over in a groan of pain and some of the strength had left his hold on Izaya’s throat. It wasn’t enough to breath, but it was enough to get one of his bent legs further up between them and kick with all his power to knock Kuza off of him and onto the concrete.

Izaya finally got to gasp a breath in-between involuntary coughs, but he wasted no time in getting to his feet. Kuza was in the middle of pushing himself up from the ground when Izaya used what energy he had left to stand before him, spin on one barely balanced foot, and let the other slice through the air to land at Kuza’s chest and send him flying backwards into the alleyway wall. “Fuck,” Izaya muttered to himself, very nearly stumbling to the ground at the completion of his kick. He felt too dizzy to keep moving, and too tired to keep fighting. He wanted this to be over.

Stalking forward to where Kuza had slid down against the bricks, Izaya grabbed the back of the other’s head so he could hold it steady for the drive of his own knee into the older boy’s face. He let go and Kuza finally slumped to the ground, face a mess of swollen bruises and a pained moan spilling free with the blood from his mouth. Any dregs of guilt Izaya might have been feeling were muted and dull in the face of the adrenaline still coursing through him. “Hah.” Kuza let loose a miserable sounding laugh. Izaya watched him spit blood onto the concrete and then let his head thump back against the wall. “Apple doesn’t fall far from—” He paused, struggling over a few wet coughs “— the tree.”

Izaya scowled down at him. A powerfully intoxicating sort of anger still thrummed through his veins, but Kuza’s insinuation made him feel sick.

Thats’s not true, that’s not true.

“I’m nothing like him,” He snarled viciously. He wasn’t sure why or how, but obviously Kuza thought he knew Shirou. It was just another thing he’d have to go over in his head later, along with everything else the other boy had said.

Kuza tipped his head to one side and levelled Izaya with a tired, red-stained smirk. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Blood was sticky on Izaya’s knuckles, it clung to his skin as he clenched them. At long last something besides the anger and the satisfaction began to bubble up inside of him. Self-loathing, his oldest and most dearest friend tightened at his throat and pulled heavy in his belly like he’d just swallowed a rock. “Don’t come near me again.” He told Kuza, before turning his back on the other boy and walking out towards the road. He’d just reached the mouth of the alley when Kuza’s slurred speech rang out again, freezing Izaya in his tracks.

“I wonder what your boyfriend would think of you if he knew,” Kuza called out. “I wonder what he’d say if I told him how easily you killed that man, how you bled him dry like a butcher’s pig.”

Izaya stared down at the dirtied concrete under him, a renewed burst of panic and fury fighting for dominance in equal parts. He turned to face Kuza once more and retrace the handful of steps he’d left between them. Feeling very much detached from his body and his thoughts, Izaya lowered a hand to slip his switchblade free from his pocket. Kuza watched the motion closely and Izaya refused to acknowledge that the fear he saw flicker briefly in the other’s eyes was something that made him feel better.

Once he was close enough, he fisted a hand in the older boy’s brown hair and yanked his head back, baring his pale throat so Izaya could unfold his knife and press the tip of the blade just under Kuza’s chin. The silver was still stained with the burgundy of his own dried blood from earlier, he realised belatedly. Izaya looked away from it with a tight jaw so he could glare down into Kuza’s eyes instead. “If you go anywhere near Shizu-chan, I’ll kill you. I’ll slit your throat just like I did his,” He promised. The ice on his voice would have been enough to make any sane man shiver, but Kuza stared up at him defiantly.

“I’m not afraid of you,” He hissed, gaze dark and stormy, but also surprisingly calm. Izaya pressed the knife harder into the soft skin under his jaw and watched him hold back his flinch.

“Then you’re a fool.” He snatched the blade back in a jerk of his wrist that left a small line of crimson beading up under the other boy’s chin. He released his grip on Kuza’s hair, let him sag back against the wall, and then turned away to leave the alley once more. There were no more threats to call him back, and so Izaya kept walking; onto the sidewalk, down the road, and around the corner at the end of the street.

He still felt disconnected from himself, back in that dreamlike trance where it felt like he was merely floating in the void while his body pressed on to move him further out of town. Feet passing one over the other, blood-stained hands hanging at his sides. Oh, thats right… Blood. Izaya brought his hands up to look at the way red had dried around his knuckles and in-between his fingers. Some of it was his — a few cuts had been reopened on the hand he’d punched the mirror with — but most of it was not. He watched them tremble in his view even though he couldn’t feel them. Blood on his hands, blood everywhere. He could see it all in his head — the way it’d poured out of that man’s throat with such speed, the way he’d clutched at the crimson fall, trying so desperately to stem the flow of his own life spilling out onto the concrete beneath him.

Izaya broke into a run down the street, but no matter how fast he moved his feet, no matter how much distance he put between himself and Kuza, the thoughts still followed him. His fists bruising and breaking over the other’s face, his voice as he’d threatened to take another life, and the feeling of absolute disgust washing through him because in that moment, he’d meant it. An overwhelming wave of dizzy nausea had Izaya veering off into another empty alley. He stopped to slide down against a cold wall and curl up inside the shadows there, breathing fast and shallow.

It was too much. All of it. Kuza’s words, Shiki’s words, all tumbling around like a tornado inside Izaya’s head. So much of it didn’t make sense, and still, something was stopping Izaya from looking too hard at what did. His eyes were already wet when he brought the heel of both palms up to press against them. He wondered how long he’d been crying without realising it.

“Stop,” He sobbed to himself, breath hitching as more tears came to fall. He couldn’t take it any more. Whatever protective infrastructure his brain had built around him felt so frighteningly close to crumbling, Izaya wished he could leave this body and this mind to take cover before he got swallowed up by the inevitable destruction. It was like every new piece of information he sought out, every one of Kuza’s or Shiki’s words that brought things closer together, also knocked out a fundamental beam to this safety structure, until Izaya felt like he was one too strong gust of wind away from caving in completely.

He wanted to scream, but he wouldn’t. He had a feeling no matter how loud he yelled it wouldn’t be enough to drown out the noise in his head.

He had to get back. He’d promised Shizuo — even though the thought of continuing on with the school day at this point was overwhelming. He very briefly entertained the idea of skipping the rest of class to go home, before realising with a detached numbness that he didn’t have a home.

He had a house, and a monster that roamed it’s halls, but any sense of homeliness, of safety, of warmth it’d once held was now rotting with his mother at the bottom of her grave, and he’d never have that back.

Izaya rubbed the tears from his face, even though more kept coming to take their place. He couldn’t help but feel at this point like god was personally smiting him. Why else had the last few months been just one stroke of bad luck after the other? He refused to even think anything along the lines of ‘how could it possibly get any worse’ because Izaya had continuously been shown by whatever vengeful deity created him that it could always get worse. Sometimes it felt like he was being played with, like life was just one big game to see how far he could be pushed, to see how bad it could get before he finally gave up completely. Izaya wondered what that would even look like — giving up. Sitting here now, empty and overflowing, angry and scared, eager to fight but so fucking exhausted, maybe it felt a little like giving up.

With one last shaky breath and a frustrated rub to his eyes, Izaya push himself up to his feet, cringing at the way every small jolting movement burned at his shoulder. He slipped out of the shadowed alley and continued his journey back to school. Once he reached the busier part of town and began to garner certain looks, Izaya pulled the hood of Shizuo’s jumper up over his head and tried to shrink in on himself as he walked. An irrational, paranoid part of his brain told him they knew, that everyone could tell what he’d done just by looking at him, but he tried to ignore it just like he was ignoring most of what that voice had to say.

There were only a handful of minutes left before the end of lunch by the time Izaya made it back to the school gate and struggled with little grace to climb the same chain link fence as he had upon leaving. His feet hit the ground with a jarring thump and barbs of shooting pain. He kept his head down as he made his way inside and through the halls of the school building, headed for the rooftop where his friends were most likely to be. The weight of the door felt more heavy than usual as he pushed it open, stepping out into the cool, rustling breeze and coming to see Shinra, Kadota and Shizuo all sat on the concrete ahead of him. Their gazes snapped over as he let the door swing shut behind him.

“Izaya,” Shinra chirped in greeting. Shizuo was already getting up to stand. “Where have you — been…” Shinra’s last word was a quiet mumble, falling off the end of his question just the faces of his friends’ were falling into concern.

What? He felt like asking defensively, but the word got stuck in his throat when Shizuo began marching towards him. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked irately, brows furrowed out of concern and into something angry. Izaya fought the urge to take steps back as he came closer.

“What do you mean?” He looked at Shizuo warily, flinching back when the blonde reached out to press his thumb against Izaya’s bottom lip. The pressure stung, and only after Shizuo’s hand had retreated, and Izaya had reached up to prod at the sticky hurt himself, did he think to pull his phone from his pocket and stare down at his reflection in the darkened screen.

His lip had split, again, and it had left a tacky red to dry around his mouth. There was also a small bouquet of red and purple bruises beginning to bloom over his left cheekbone and in a chain around his throat. All in all, he looked pretty awful, and he couldn’t even muster the energy to be embarrassed about it. He brought a hand up to scrub at the blood on his face, but it did little more than curb the itch the dried red was starting to bring.

“Izaya…” Shizuo parted with his name in a way that made Izaya want to run and hide. The anger was gone, but this was worse. Shizuo sounded scared. When Izaya’s gaze flicked away from the phone and up to Shizuo instead, he saw the other boy was looking down at the blood still covering the back of his hands. When Shizuo tried to reach for one set of crimson-stained fingers, Izaya jerked them away.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He announced, shoving his fists into his pockets and away from anyone’s view. He made to turn away but Shizuo closed a grip around the back of his hoodie.

“Wait,” He demanded. “…You should sit down.”

Izaya looked over his shoulder at the blonde’s downcast gaze, and then at his friends watching them both with worried frowns. “Why?”

“We need to talk.”

Shizuo still wouldn’t look at him. “What is this?” He asked with a wry laugh, “An intervention?” He’d only been half serious, but the way Shinra and Kadota guiltily averted their gazes, and Shizuo’s own suddenly snapped up to him, made Izaya realise that he’d hit the nail on the head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” He said, feeling betrayal tangle in his gut. He didn’t care if it was illogical or unfounded; a part of him had actually believed Shizuo would wait until he was ready to talk and not force him into some kind of prayer circle with his two other friends. “I don’t have time for this.”

Izaya turned away once more to make for the door and escape this suffocating encounter. He moved too quick for Shizuo to catch another hold on his jumper, but the sound of the other’s voice still followed him as he pulled the door open and jogged down the stairs.

Chapter Text

“Izaya, wait."

Tuning Shizuo out was easy. With all the incessant chaos that went on in his head these days, it wasn’t hard for Izaya to pretend that the sound of the other’s voice was just an angry figment calling out from inside his own head.

He ignored it as he made his way down the steps leading to the roof, he ignored it as he rounded the corner leading into the school halls, and he ignored it, still, as he stormed past wary classmates with big eyes and books clutched tight to their chests. He only stopped ignoring it when Shizuo got close enough to reach out and coat hanger him by grabbing the hood of his jumper again.

Izaya stumbled to a stop with a cough at the sudden pressure to his already bruised throat. “Don’t fucking touch me,” He hissed, turning around to shove hard at the other boy’s chest. Shizuo barely budged and Izaya hated him for it.

“I told you to wait,” Shizuo growled — dark, angry eyes, a frown twisting his mouth.

“And I told you not to touch me.”

Shizuo kept glaring, but he let his hold on the jumper Izaya was wearing go while taking a small step back. Most of the students in the hall had stopped to give them a wide berth and stare. Izaya hated them too.

“I’m sorry,” Shizuo started, fists curled at his sides. Izaya cut him off before he could continue, he didn’t want to do this with an audience.

“It doesn’t matter,” He said. “I don’t care.”

“Right,” Shizuo growled. “That’s why you keep running away, because you don’t care.”

The bell signalling the end of lunch rang out over them, a piercing sound that grated up against the ends of Izaya’s already frayed nerves. He used it as an excuse to turn away from Shizuo and begin walking down the hall.

“Where are you going now?” The other boy snapped.

“Class.”

“We have sport, and it’s in the other fucking direction.”

Izaya took a deep, shaky breath. He wanted to cry, and scream. He wanted to lash out at everybody still staring at them, he wanted to curl up on the ground where he was and just fucking die. He did neither, instead turning around with an overwhelming amount of barely restrained emotion to walk past Shizuo without looking at him and head towards the locker room.

Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t look back.

He made it down the hall and into the tiled space of the boys locker room without Shizuo calling him back or forcibly pulling him to a stop. Izaya opened his locker with a force that left the metal door clanging loudly against the one beside it. It echoed around the room — empty save for himself. He ignored it as he pulled Shizuo’s jumper up over his head, shoulder burning at the slightest brush, but with the soft material in his hands Izaya couldn’t help but stare down into it, remembering the first time Shizuo had let him borrow it.

Soft smiles, rough hands, and the sound of music drifted through his thoughts. Things had been so much easier then, even if they’d still been hard. Izaya ducked his head inside the open locker and pressed Shizuo’s jumper to his chest, where his heart was aching and burning for the things he felt like he’d lost, the things he felt like he’d ruined. Tears pricked at his eyes. For once, he let them fall.

He wanted to go back. Maybe if he’d known then how fleeting everything was going to be, he’d have made more of an effort to cherish every moment. But the moments were gone, and now all he had was this unbearable grief to take their place, this awful feeling that everything was falling apart around him as much as things were falling apart inside him. He was breaking, splitting, riddled with so many spiderwebbing cracks it would only take one glancing touch to have him fractured into pieces.

A door behind him opened, and the chatter of voices began to drift through. Flinching at the sound of it, Izaya quickly scrubbed his eyes and nose with the hands he was just now realising were still stained with blood. He placed Shizuo’s jumper carefully inside his locker, quickly gathered his things, and snuck into one of the toilet cubicles before anyone could see him.

It felt isolating, to be dressing himself beside the toilet while he could hear everyone else talking and laughing out by the lockers. He wondered if anyone had noticed he was gone. He wondered if anyone would care if they had.

Probably not.

He used the small sink and mirror inside the cubicle to wash his hands and splash water up over his face. It felt good to see the brown tinted water swirl its way down the drain, to be physically free of the awful violence he’d wrought even if he knew the emotional marks would last much longer. His face and throat were still bruised, and his lip was still swollen, but at this point it was easy to pretend the discoloured patches were just apart of who he was. They didn’t mean anything. He’d always been broken.

He left the cubicle while everyone else in his class was still filtering out of the room. Shoving his uniform back inside his locker, Izaya was about to follow after them when he heard his phone buzz from inside the folded up weight of his jeans. He paused where he was, locker half closed and gaze downcast. A sense of trepidation began to fill him even if he wasn’t quite sure why. He held his breath as he reached inside his locker, pulled the phone from his jeans and turned the screen on. It was a message from Shiki, like most of him knew it was going was to be, but a flare of hot, burning panic still spread out from under his ribs and the front of his head. He shouldn’t be reading it, he knew he shouldn’t; some part of himself was practically howling from the back of his head to turn the phone off and walk away, but Izaya’s curiosity had always outweighed his self preservation, and so despite everything he lifted a shaky hand to swipe open the phone, type in his passcode, and open the message Shiki had sent him.

His eyes scrolled down from the top of the screen - another way of unconsciously prolonging the inevitable, he was sure. When he reached the bottom, the most recent text, he found two messages sent in quick succession.

No

The first was a name — a small handful of characters glaring in dark against the screen. A combination of sharp lines, connecting in some spaces and coming apart at others. Just pixels, just words, just a name, but Izaya felt what little structure he’d had left holding him together start to truly crumble all the same.

Stop

The other message was unimportant in comparison, was unnecessary in contribution. He didn’t need it, to know.

The name was enough.

He’d unintentionally opened a box he’d been long since keeping shut, and Izaya would have tried so much fucking harder to keep it that way if he’d fully realised the extent of what he’d left inside.

This was it, this was the end, this was game over, because there was no running or hiding from that name, no way to hold back the images it conjured, or the gaping black hole it opened up inside him. He was done, he was undone, and he was so fucking tired that there was some relief to finally feeling everything fall apart, without any hope or inclination to bring it back together.

Takeshi Okada

He felt like he’d just been blasted with a shotgun, like someone was twisting their fingers inside the open, oozing wound in his chest. It was sick, he felt sick, he was going to be—

Okada Takeshi

Dizzy nausea swelled to the surface. Izaya took a gasping breath and brought a hand up to his mouth. He only just made it to the toilet with enough time to drop to his knees in front of it and empty his stomach inside. Belly clenching, chest heaving, something halfway between a sob and a cough ripped past his lips.

—Sensei

Drowning, drowning, drowning. He was drowning and he couldn’t catch a full fucking breath. Someone was pulling his hair, and ripping him open, and it wouldn’t fucking stop, it wouldn’t—

Okada-Sensei

There was yelling, and pain, and guilt, and shame, and oh god, the shame. Please, make it stop, Izaya pleaded within the space of his own head. He gagged, and he coughed, and he gagged again before emptying what he thought must have been the last of anything inside of him.

Iza-chan

Still, he felt sick, and still, he wished there was more he could purge. He wanted it gone, everything inside of him, everything he had left. Bile burnt at the back of his throat, and knees ached where they were spread over concrete, but it was nothing compared to the shame eating him inside, tearing him apart. If he could rip it all out, he would. He was past caring what he ripped out along with it.

But there was nothing he could do, except gag and then gasp for breath over the locker room toilet, except torture himself with all the thoughts and memories so disjointed and entangled it was hard to tell which were which. He could hear children’s laughter, and felt pain bloom out like a flower across his face, and see wood splintered by the desperate drag of his own too-sharp nails. Maybe not all at once, maybe not all in that order, but it was still there, even if none of it was real anymore, even if none of it was here.

He was here. Alone. Slumped over a filthy toilet, heart racing like it was about to finally burst for the third time in the last two weeks. Only Shizuo wasn’t coming to save him this time. A small part of Izaya still hoped he would, was still half expecting the door to fly open and Shizuo’s wary voice to ring out over the sound of his heaving, but nothing came, and the longer Izaya sat there, breathing to fast, feeling too much, the more he realised Shizuo wasn’t going to. Not this time. Maybe not ever again.

There was no point regretting the way he’d pushed Shizuo away, because there was nothing he could do to change it now. Izaya had a feeling he’d well and truly run out of all his second chances.

He slumped back against the cubicle wall. The next breath he took shuddered out of him. His head was a fucking whirlwind of thoughts; never mind this, never mind everything that came with it — his brain was still trying to move forward and unravel everything Shiki had said, everything Kuza had said, and start tying all the knots together in a way that made sense.

Shirou killed someone for him. Shirou killed someone for him. But then he’d left, he’d left and when he came back he’d hit him and he’d kissed him and he’d—

“Doesn’t that make what he did so fucking pointless!?”

Kuza’s desperate, venomous voice rang out from inside Izaya’s head. Izaya felt like he was going to be sick again. He pressed his hands to his eyes and whimpered softly. How could he know? How could Kuza possibly know?

No. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Izaya was trying to force in pieces of the puzzle that didn’t actually fit. Maybe Shirou had killed that man for a completely unrelated reason. Maybe Kuza was just crazy and confused.

Maybe Izaya was too.

Groaning softly, he resisted the urge to dig fingers into the bandaged skin on his arm. He needed to get up and leave before someone came looking for him. He took another deep breath. This was okay. This was…

Not okay.

He flushed the toilet and wiped his face, and pushed himself up on legs that felt too shaky to stand but continued to do so all the same. He wasn’t surprised to find no one waiting for him when he opened the cubicle door. He briefly considered just going home — but, no, home would be worse. Seeing Shirou right now would make everything feel much, much worse.

Izaya found his phone blinking with a new message when he went to close his locker. He almost ignored it, because reading anything else from Shiki meant going back over the last two messages he’d sent, but he told himself it didn’t matter anymore. The damage was already done — had been done a long time ago, the only difference now was that Izaya had lost the ability to hide it from himself.

He reached into his locker and swiped open the phone.

[2:05] Shiki Haruya: Takeshi Okada.
[2:05] Shiki Haruya: Apparently he was a school teacher nearby.

[2:08] Shiki Haruya: I remember struggling to find a connection between him and your father, but I know you will. Please be careful with this.

Of course he’d struggled. There had only been a handful of people that might have known, and two of them were now dead; all that was left were Izaya himself, and Shirou, and Kuza, apparently. Izaya threw the phone back into his locker and closed his eyes. His head was spinning again. He told himself he’d reply later, when the sight of that name didn’t put him in immediate danger of throwing up. If that meant he never replied, well then that was okay too.

Pathetic, an insidious voice whispered from the back of his head. You’re being pathetic. Izaya slammed his locker closed just to drown it out. He was, he knew he was. People had been through worse, people were going through worse right now. He was in no place to whine and plead to the universe for help, and he knew that, he knew it, but…

…It still hurt. More than he knew what to do with.

Izaya took another deep, shuddery breath, and rubbed his hands over his face. Turning to leave the locker room and head outside onto the sports field, he saw his class grouped together in the centre of it. He kept his head down as he made his way towards them.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Orihara-kun,” Their sports teacher drawled. Izaya looked up at the sound of it. He hated the way it drew everyone’s attention to him; he hated even more the way it made him shrink and curl and close up like a sad little flower. He looked away, because he wasn’t sure if he was closer to crying or screaming or threatening everyone that dared lay eyes on him with the sharp edge of his knife. None of those options boded well for him, so Izaya kept his eyes on the grass under him as the teacher resumed talking and he continued to cycle rapidly and painfully between absolute misery, unbridled fear, and a fury so strong he felt like tearing himself apart.

He shouldn’t have looked up — it would have been much safer to keep his gaze away from the surrounding humans that frustrated him more than they did intrigue him these days — but Izaya wanted to know if Shizuo was looking, wanted to see if there was still a lingering chance he could make this better.

Eyes coming up from the ground, Izaya quickly scanned the bodies around him. He found Shinra and Kadota, who were both side-eyeing him with a painful lack of subtlety, but Shizuo wasn’t to be seen. When he cut his gaze across the field, to blonde hair and broad shoulders, he found two sets of the same standing side by side. One was Shizuo — arms folded tight across his chest — and the other was that same girl Izaya had seen following Shizuo around on a few unfortunate occasions.

They were standing too close. They were standing too comfortably. She might as well have had her arm around him with the way she leaned so casually into his space. Izaya’s fists tightened, but so did his throat.

Shizuo turned to meet his stare, like he’d felt the insistent weight of it from across the many meters between them. Izaya thought he saw something painful flash across his face; concern, or sorrow, or pity, but then it hardened into something else, and Izaya watched Shizuo turn away defiantly, cutting Izaya out of his view, and cutting a piece of himself out of Izaya’s aching, broken heart.

Well that was that then, wasn’t it? Barely half an hour had passed since their last fight and Shizuo was already moving on. Izaya was betting he’d had his eye on her for a while now. He’d seen them talking a few times before. Maybe this was something Shizuo had already been planning, maybe they’d been meeting in secret behind his back. Maybe they—

Fuck.

Izaya’s eyes were burning again. He kind of felt like he was choking, or like Shizuo was twisting the knife already driven deep into that gaping, shameful hole just below his ribs.

This shouldn’t have been a surprise. Why would Shizuo want him? He was disgusting and damaged and quite obviously more trouble than he was actually worth. Izaya felt stupid for thinking otherwise, felt like an idiot for believing he could have had something like this for himself.

Even so, he still felt hurt, he still felt betrayed, which was ridiculous because Izaya had been the one to single-handedly ruin this like he did everything else.

The blonde girl — Vorona, he remembered with distaste — reached up to rest her hand on Shizuo’s shoulder. She smiled at him, and Shizuo smiled back, and Izaya felt like he was going to be sick all over again.

This was worse, he decided. Worse than Shirou, and Kuza, and taking someone’s life. Worse than ten minutes ago, when he’d been forced to fully confront the most horrific thing he’d ever had happen to him. He swore none of them had hurt as much as this.

The teacher was splitting them up into teams, Izaya registered vaguely, but he ignored it in favour of kneeling down so he could pretend to tie up his shoes and avoid an imminent collapse. He undid the laces on one side, and then tied them back up again. Those burning threads of panic were beginning to wind themselves around his throat, but he tried to hold them back. If his body had to go through that again right now, Izaya thought for sure he’d slip into some kind of coma. And even if a part of that sounded appealing in this moment, the rest of it terrified him too much to contemplate.

He flinched when a hand landed softly at his shoulder. He paused where he was re-lacing his second shoe and looked up to see Shinra smiling down at him softly. “We’re breaking the class in half to play soccer,” He explained. “Want to be on our side?”

Kadota was standing with him, along with another dozen kids from his class. Shizuo didn’t seem to be nearby and for that Izaya was grateful. He didn’t want to see him, or speak to him, so working on the same team might have been difficult.

“Sure,” Izaya mumbled, throat too raw to attempt speaking at a regular volume. He finished tying his shoe and reached up to take Shinra’s offered hand and let the other boy assist in pulling him to his feet. Shinra stumbled back a bit with the effort, and that was enough to bring a small, flickering smile to Izaya’s lips, even if it only lasted as long as it took him to notice it.

Izaya took a few deep breaths. This would be good, running was exactly what he needed right now, even if he didn’t feel like he was in a physical condition to do much more than shuffle around on a walker.

Cutting his gaze briefly to the side, where the other half of his class were congregating into a team, Izaya saw that Shizuo was the one staring at him now, expression unreadable, if not from the distance between them then maybe just because Izaya was struggling to recognise him now.

Izaya’s brows drew down, his eyes hardened along with his heart, and this time he was the one to turn away and cut Shizuo out of his view. He hoped he was cutting a painful piece of himself out of the other’s heart too.

Despair was turning to anger in his chest. Fuck Shizuo, fuck that blonde skank, fuck everyone who thought they could gain his trust just to try and fuck him with it later. He wasn’t letting anyone get near him like that ever again.

The two halves of the class spread themselves out on either side of the sports field. Izaya followed. He wasn’t really a fan of soccer, or of team sports in general, but he was going to play like he was — without any care for who got in his way or what would happened to them if they did.

Chapter Text

Shizuo felt like actual shit.

Was this what all relationships were meant to feel like? One day you were on cloud fucking nine, and the next it felt like you were being buried alive by the person you loved most. He hated the way Izaya did this — back and forth, up and down; it was making Shizuo feel like he he was being torn apart and then put back together over and over again, but each time he felt a little less like himself, and a little more like something had been left out. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, but apart of Shizuo still felt like he deserved it, even if he wasn’t exactly sure why this time.

He tried to hold it back, and hold his distance, and hold himself together all at once because the last thing he wanted was for Izaya to hate him.

He’d wanted to be alone — to have space to think about everything he’d said or done wrong in the last twenty four hours, but Vorona’s presence had been a pleasant distraction Shizuo hadn’t been expecting. He was glad he’d made friends with her, glad he had someone he could stand with that didn’t demand more of him than that.

Besides, he didn’t like the idea of spending time with his other friends if that meant Izaya was going to distance himself from them too. It was Shizuo he had a problem with right now, and so, as much as it fucking hurt, Shizuo was going to cut himself out until Izaya got it into his head that he was trying to help him and not hurt him.

If something hadn’t been wrong before, it certainly was now. Izaya walked out of the locker room and onto the field looking like he was barely alive. Even now, with the glares, and the way he kept pushing his shoulders back like that would stop them from repeatedly hunching forward, Shizuo could tell he wasn’t all there. Something had happened, again, and Shizuo wasn’t going to know what because apparently it was none of his business. He was worried, about more things than he had space in his head to count, but right now he was worried about Izaya playing soccer when he looked like he was about to keel over any second now.

Shizuo tried not to stare along with the rest of his class. He knew how much Izaya hated attention when there was no mask in place to receive it. He only turned to cast a glance over his shoulder when he felt a heavy weight boring into his back. He found Izaya staring — brows furrowed and fists clenched. Shizuo squashed down the immediate stab of concern, of longing, and pointedly turned away.

He was angry, but he was only angry because he was hurt. He hoped Izaya was able to tell the difference.

A handful of painful minutes later and their class began to divide themselves in two. Shizuo made sure he wasn’t on the same team as Izaya; he had a feeling their inability to work together right now would turn the game into a disaster. As they were moving to separate sides of the field, Shizuo chanced another look at Izaya across from him, standing with Shinra and Kadota. He hoped they knew to hold Izaya back if he pushed himself too hard. Shizuo was about to turn away and begin situating himself amongst his other team members when Izaya turned to catch his stare. The other boy’s eyes were dark, and his lips were flat, and Shizuo’s heart sank as Izaya gave him a glare that said ‘Fuck off, I hate you!’ without ever opening his mouth to speak.

Well, fuck you too, Shizuo thought to himself, even as pain twisted itself between his ribs. He turned away and began stomping towards the other side of the field. “Are you okay?” Vorona asked him carefully.

“Yep,” Shizuo answered with no emotion on his voice. Somehow Vorona knew not to push him. For that, he was grateful.

Shizuo was starting to think that Izaya had been treating him better when they’d hated each other, than he did now that they were in a relationship. How fucked up was that? They may as well have been back to three months ago, except now every snide comment or hateful look tore his insides up instead of just pissing him off, except now Shizuo felt three times as insecure and anxious as he had before he fell in love.

…In love.

That’s right…

He’d never gotten to tell Izaya that; a part of Shizuo wondered if he still would.

No. He couldn’t think like that, like this was the end. It was just an uncertain pause in time, a dreadful in-between — at least that was what he hoped.

As they spread themselves out on the field, Shizuo tried to keep from searching for Izaya among his class. Instead he focused on the sound of Vorona’s voice as she gave him a brief recount of the rules. He’d played once or twice before, but never with more of a plan than kicking the ball until it went inside a goal and not kicking it so hard it he broke someone’s nose, which was always the more difficult one to achieve between the two, especially when he was already pissed.

Their teacher blew a whistle from somewhere on the field, and everyone who could be bothered began to move at once.

Shizuo jogged towards the ball, arms and legs swinging at an unhurried pace. Someone in his team was running ahead of him with the ball moving between their feet. They kicked it in a pass that Shizuo belatedly realised was meant for him, and he rushed forward, just in time to catch the weight of it against his outstretched foot. It took him a moment or two to get used to running with the ball, but once he did it was easy to weave around classmates that tried to steal from him and kick the ball between the legs of anyone stupid enough to stand in his way.

Almost at the goal, Shizuo looked up to see Vorona running ahead of him. “Oi,” He called across to her. As she turned to face him, he kicked the ball in her direction, mildly impressed with himself for setting it on a straight path. It had almost reached her, but in a too-fast flash of black, and white, and blue, someone ran in front of her and kicked the ball off its path. It took a shocked moment of following the ball and the person who’d stolen it for Shizuo to realise it was Izaya. He’d have been impressed if he wasn’t so pissed that Izaya was pushing himself too far again.

Izaya kept running with the ball, ignoring his teammates as they urged him to pass it. He reached the other end of the field faster than Shizuo could catch up to him, and then kicked the ball into the goal with a swift drive of his foot, scoring the first point of the game and leaving the rest of his classmates staring on in mixed expressions of surprise, confusion and resentment.

Shizuo stared too, cycling through a dizzying combination of all three. Izaya ignored him as the game reset and the ball was moving once again. It seemed like he was ignoring everyone in favour of focusing on the game completely. Unless he’s just trying to piss me off, Shizuo thought to himself. That was always a possibility. When the ball was passed to him again, Shizuo didn’t bother running or passing it on to anyone else. He was more than half the field away from their goal, but he didn’t care about that either. With one angry kick in his team’s general direction, the ball shot through the air at a speed that had everyone ducking for cover, its momentum only coming to a sudden stop as it reached the other end of the grassy oval and caught against the net inside his team’s goal.

The teacher blew a whistle to signify that he had actually just scored a point, and Shizuo tore his own surprised gaze away to find that everyone was now staring at him. He fought the urge to shrink in on himself and began jogging awkwardly across the grass instead, doing his best to avoid any eye contact with the people around him.

The game continued back and forth for a while. Shizuo forgot he hadn’t intended on being this involved, and instead lost himself to the rhythm of the game; steal the ball, kick the ball, run as fast as he could without barrelling too many people over. At one point he took the ball from Shinra, right as he was about to make a lousy attempt at scoring a goal. Shizuo had a feeling he’d accidentally stolen the ball from some of his own teammates too. He didn’t really care. All he cared about was beating Izaya, and running away from the hurt twisting up his spine.

One of the few other teammates Shizuo didn’t ignore was Vorona. She was fast, and skilled, and always seemed to be in the right spot for Shizuo to pass the ball to her. This time was no different. Shizuo kicked the ball in her direction before someone on the other team could steal it. With a clean swing of her foot, the ball was shooting into the net, past the reaching hands of an unenthused goalie. “Yes!” A few of his classmates cheered. Shizuo wanted to smile, but his heart wouldn’t let him. He only looked up from the ground when the dark of a shadow came near to his own. His gaze shot up, but it was only Vorona — palm raised to face him, and a small smile quirking her lips. It unwound some of the tension in Shizuo’s shoulders, at least enough for him to raise one arm and meet her high five as gently as he could.

“We make a good team,” She said, matter of factly and with a nod of her head.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” Shizuo answered. Vorona was easy to work with, to talk to. Shizuo could tell she was a ‘no bullshit’ kind of person — honest, upfront — and that was something he liked; that was something he’d been experiencing a severe lack of these past few weeks. Her stoic disposition reminded him of Kasuka, and he thought maybe that was why he already felt comfortable around her.

The game continued on despite Shizuo’s brief pause for introspection. He looked up from his light jog across the field to see Izaya with the ball again. Shizuo didn’t want to look at him, but it was kind of hard not to when he was making himself the star of the show. Elbowing people, kicking them in the ankles; Shizuo wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he was pretty sure Izaya didn’t care. And so he thought his concern was justified when Vorona decided to run into the centre and try taking the ball from him. He knew she wasn’t as dainty and delicate as she looked, but she was still a human, with things that could break, and Shizuo knew far to well Izaya didn’t care about breaking things.

Already making his way closer to the action, and with some trepidation curling in his gut, Shizuo saw them scuffle. Izaya almost barrelled her over with his shoulder — and wasn’t that the one that looked like it’d been hacked into with an axe? — but even as Izaya kept going, Vorona did too. She caught up to block him and make a second attempt at taking the ball, this time with a level of aggression she’d been lacking in the first. Her usually flat mouth was twisted on a scowl as she stood her ground in blocking Izaya’s path. She followed him when he tried to dodge around her, and twisted away from the elbow Izaya sent towards her chest, but she had no time to move as Izaya’s foot came shooting out, in an angry, violent kick that was too far from the ball to not be intentionally aimed at Vorona’s closest leg.

She fell back to the ground with a muffled grunt of pain. Hand clutching a spot over her left shin, Vorona glared defiantly up at where Izaya had stopped to scowl down at her. Not as shocked as he thought he should have been, Shizuo was already storming forward.

“Oi!” He yelled once he was close enough, shoving Izaya back with a hand to his chest. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Izaya stumbled for a few steps. He was breathing hard, red-faced and slick with sweat. Shizuo searched his eyes for any of the signs he’d seen before; the dilated pupils, the glassy sheen, but Izaya didn’t look like he’d taken drugs this time — maybe Shizuo would have felt better if he had. “She was in my way,” He said unapologetically, with a shrug to his shoulders that made Shizuo’s blood boil and his heart ache.

“So kicking girls is just something you do for fun now?” Shizuo sneered. “I get it if you’re mad at me for whatever stupid fuckin’ thing you think I did this time, but don’t take it out on innocent people who’re just trying to play the game!”

Izaya’s lip curled with contempt. Fists clenched at his sides, he looked caught between lunging at Shizuo and slapping him. “Not everything’s about you!” He yelled, punctuating the sharp snap of his voice with a shove to Shizuo’s chest that was actually strong enough to shift him back a little.

“You’re making it about me when you go kicking my fucking friends!” Shizuo shouted back. He hated this, he hated it. He couldn’t watch Izaya’s shoulders wind tighter with every one of his angry words, couldn’t stand here and scream like he wasn’t actually dying inside. It was just as well that the yelling stopped, and Izaya’s lips pulled back on a deranged smile that cut Shizuo’s voice to silence.

“So Shizu-chan’s made a new friend?” He asked with a drawl, words biting yet sweet; smile wide, but fists tight. “You’ll do nicely together considering she’s probably just as desperate as you.” Shizuo flinched — at the insult, at the accusation, at the way Izaya was exuding an aura so dark it frightened him. “Sorry about that, Vorona-chan.” Izaya tilted his head to fix her with a cruel smirk. “Next time you get in my way I’ll make sure you’re unconscious before I disable you.”

Shizuo gaped, but Izaya wasn’t staying to watch. With that strained smile still plastered over his lips, he walk past and away from them. Shizuo couldn’t bring himself to look up at their wary audience, or turn around and help Vorona up from the ground. He just stared at his feet and wondered how this had all gone so very wrong. “Are you okay?” Shizuo flinched again, but when he did look up he realised the question hadn’t been for him. Shinra was kneeling beside Vorona and eyeing her leg with concern. She brushed it off with a wave of her hand and pushed herself up to her feet.

“It’s fine,” She said. “I’ve had worse.”

Shizuo grit his teeth. “What the fuck is wrong with him?” He asked Shinra, not that he thought even Izaya knew what he was abusing people for at this point.

“Like, psychologically?” Shinra asked. “I’d say a pretty bad case of borderline personality disorder, but I’m sure he’d tick the boxes for a whole bucket load of mental illness. Oops, I think he heard me.”

Shizuo turned around to see Izaya glaring offended daggers their way, but he told himself he didn’t care anymore, and that if Izaya was going to act like a child then he could be treated like one too. He marched away from Izaya, and Vorona, and Shinra, and stood by himself at the edge of the field, while people began to recover from their brief confrontation and resume the game once more.

Shizuo held back this time; he was emotionally exhausted in a way that left him feeling physically drained too. He trudged along the outskirts and watched the others play, and hoped this never-ending mess of a day would be over soon.

It was obvious Izaya didn’t feel the same. He was still running around and shouldering people over like his life depended on it. Shizuo kept waiting for his seemingly infinite supply of energy and tolerance for pain to come crashing down, for it to end in blood and tears and perhaps him rushing forward to save Izaya from collapsing to the ground, but it wasn’t happening, and for some reason that just made Shizuo worry more.

The game was dragging on, and Shizuo had no idea who was winning anymore. His attention drifted between the dull thump of shoes on grass, and the spinning of his thoughts. He jogged amongst the others without an intention to do more than that, and followed the ball without really seeing it. They didn’t need him anyway. One of the boys on Shizuo’s team was putting up a good fight against Izaya, better than Shizuo probably could have done. Blonde and black hair, they both ran with shoulders pressed, tripping over each others feet as they tried to take the ball for themselves. Shizuo applauded this boy’s bravery for pushing back against Izaya just as hard, but he winced at his stupidity when, with one particularly hard shove, he knocked Izaya to the ground.

Shizuo couldn’t say it wasn’t some kind of satisfying to see Izaya get a taste of his own medicine, but a part of him still wanted to rush forward and make sure he was okay. It took everything he had to stay rooted where he was, just watching on as the boy who’d pushed Izaya barely spared him a glance before continuing to move. Izaya was quick to get to his knees and reach out in the direction of the ball. For a moment Shizuo thought he was going to try and grab it, and abandon all rules of the game just for the sake of not feeling like he’d lost, but his hand moved past the ball and kept reaching, and Shizuo stared on in surprise as Izaya dove forward to close his fingers around the other boy’s ankle and pull it out from under him with a rough jerk of his arm.

Blondie’s face hit the ground with a muted thud. The ball rolled away, ignored by the rest of the class for the sake of watching both boy’s get to their feet. “The fucks’ wrong with you?!” Shizuo heard the boy yell. He let his hand drop from where it had been clutching his face, and began storming forward with his shoulders squared and his fists clenched defensively.

Okay, that’s enough, Shizuo said to himself, beginning to make his way across the field. Even though he was pissed, and even though a part of him thought Izaya might actually deserve it, he wasn’t going to stand by and watch the person he loved get pummelled by someone else. He just hoped Izaya could hold back from provoking him until Shizuo got close enough to fend him off. But even as he thought that, there were no snarky insults, or sarcastic sneers leaving Izaya’s mouth. He was uncharacteristically silent as the other boy sized him up. Shizuo feared for a moment that Izaya was going to let himself be hit, and he picked up his pace with that in mind, but he stumbled to another surprised, sudden stop when he saw Izaya cover the rest of the distance left between himself and this boy, draw his fist back, and then drive it forward into the other’s face.

The force was enough to leave blondie falling back, ass on the ground and hand clutching the bleeding nose Shizuo hoped to god wasn’t broken. He was still trying to process what had just happened, but Izaya gave him no time. A feral, angry look on his face, he followed the boy and fisted a hand in his shirt. Dropping his knees to either side of the other’s waist, his fist met blondie’s face again. Shizuo couldn’t move, could barely breathe, he watched on in horrified shock as Izaya kept reeling his fist back for another punch despite this boy’s only defence being that of reaching hands and a plead for him to stop. No one was moving, no one was doing anything, and so Shizuo shook himself out of his shock and raced forward before it was too late.

His own movement must have broken some kind of spell, because other’s were moving now too. Shizuo saw the teacher rushing over from the edge of his awareness, but he knew he needed to get there first. If Izaya wasn’t already going to be expelled for this, lashing out and turning on a teacher was probably going to do it.

Shizuo held his breath. He was almost there, almost—

He skidded to a stop behind Izaya and closed a hand around his shoulder. Izaya tried to shake him off and raise his fist again. Shizuo opened his mouth to yell, but with a rough jerk of the other’s shoulders and a very angry backwards swing of his arm, Izaya’s elbow snapped across Shizuo’s face hard enough to turn his head and bring blood to his lip.

Shizuo blinked hard at the impact, caught in another moment of shock. When he brought fingers up to his mouth, they came back wet. Brows furrowed, he turned his head to see that Izaya had finally stopped. Fist caught mid-air, he was looking back at Shizuo and his split lip with slow-dawning horror. The anger must have been melting into guilt, because Izaya looked around like he was only now realising where he was. His gaze flicked between the teacher and students racing towards him, the bleeding boy he still held by the shirt under him, and Shizuo breathing hard beside him. Shizuo could see the panic building in his eyes, and he knew what Izaya was going to do moments before he dropped the boy, got to his feet, and sprinted away from everyone like they were still chasing him.

“Izaya!” Shizuo took off after him, but even after everything, Izaya was still somehow managing to outrun him. That was okay; he let Izaya run, off the field and around the back of the school building, until they were tucked between concrete walls and no one could see the way they were both breaking. Only then, with nowhere to go and nothing to lose, did Izaya slow to a stop. Shizuo could hear how hard he was breathing, could see it in the too-fast shift of his shoulders. Izaya stood facing away from him, head hung low, fists clenched at his sides. Shizuo kept his distance a few metres off behind him because his lip still stung and he wasn’t sure what Izaya would do if he got any closer.

“Izaya…” He started, and then stopped. He didn’t know what to say, and he wasn’t sure he could speak without screaming anyway. There was a fiery ball of emotion pulsing between his ribs, and Shizuo was scared it’d tear them both to shreds if he let it. He took a shallow breath that was supposed to be deep, and a step closer to where Izaya was still standing by the wall. “What the hell is going on with you?” He asked, only managing to keep some of the growl out of his voice.

Izaya shook his head like that would somehow negate the reality of the situation. “Nothing,” He said, “It was an accident.”

“An accident? ” Shizuo raised his voice without meaning to. “You could have killed him! You looked like you were going to if I didn’t stop you.” Izaya kept shaking his head, or maybe it was his shoulders shaking now too. “What are you going to do if they expel you for this? Where are you going to go?!”

“I don’t know,” Izaya admitted, winding desperate hands into his hair. “I don’t—”

“Enough with the lies and the secrets!” Shizuo cut him off. “I can’t fucking take it anymore! What do you have to lose if you just tell me the truth?”

“I CAN’T!” Izaya yelled. He whirled around and let his hands fall from his hair. “You don’t understand, you don’t—”

“Of course I don’t!” Shizuo shouted back. “Because you don’t fucking tell me anything!”

He hadn’t wanted it to be like this, but the more he let go, the harder it was to hold back. Izaya had turned around to face the wall again, but Shizuo continued anyway. “You treat me like I’m just annoying you, and I don’t understand, but maybe you don’t understand either!”

Stop…

“You don’t get what it’s like to be hurt by people you care about, to trust someone and have them throw that back in your face like you mean nothing, like you’re just a joke."

I should stop…

“How can you be so selfish to think you’re the only one going through shit!” Shizuo shouted. “That you’re the only one who hates themselves so fucking much!” His voice cracked and splintered. Blood rushed to his face and tears sprang to his eyes. He was glad Izaya couldn’t see him.

“You just keep living in your own little world where you don’t care about anyone, you don’t care that you’re hurting people, you don’t care that you’re—”

Sometimes being with Izaya meant learning to feel the waves before they broke; sensing the lead up, reading the room, noticing all the little things that told him Izaya was about to crack. All this time Shizuo had seen the way he was shaking, had seen his hands turn to white-knuckle fists, and his shoulders tense up with every careless word from Shizuo’s mouth; and so he had no one to blame but himself when Izaya suddenly spun around, lunged forward, and brought a fist down across his face.

Shizuo stumbled back, clutching the side of his cheek because it actually hurt and that was almost as surprising as the fact that Izaya had hit him at all. Izaya didn’t stop this time; there was no regret filled gaze or fervent denial, he kept swinging, and moving, so fast and with such aggression it was all Shizuo could do to keep stumbling back and just barely dodge the weight of the other’s fists flying towards him. He was too slow to stop Izaya’s kick to his stomach; the force of it knocked him off his feet and sent him to the ground.

A pained grunt left Shizuo’s mouth as his back hit the concrete. He was still staring up at the perfect, blue sky when Izaya dropped to straddle his waist and snap another fist across his face. He tried to speak, but there was no breath left in him to form words. He tried to catch a glimpse of something familiar in the other’s eyes, but they were so dark and livid, Shizuo almost didn’t recognise him.

“You don’t understand!” Izaya yelled, knuckles bruising the side of Shizuo’s jaw just as much as they were probably bruising themselves. “You hate me!” He shouted hysterically. “You hate me! you hate me! YOU HATE ME!”

No, Shizuo thought to himself. I don’t understand.

I don’t understand you.

I don’t understand any of this.

Izaya continued to hit him, and Shizuo thought about letting him; he wondered if maybe he deserved it, if maybe it would help, but it also looked like every punch was hurting Izaya as much as it was tearing holes in Shizuo’s heart. And so, finally lifting the arms that had been laying helplessly at his side, Shizuo grabbed the other’s wrists and tried to still his movement.

“No!” Izaya began tugging on Shizuo’s hold at his arms with everything he had. Shizuo could see the tears burning at his eyes, and the panic rising and falling fast in his chest, and when Izaya stopped his useless struggling to instead fist his hands in Shizuo’s shirt and drop his forehead down to Shizuo’s chest, Shizuo could hear the misery in his voice as he begged, “Please, make it stop.”

Shizuo tried to swallow down the breaking pieces of his heart. “What?” He asked; the word broken, small, and scared.

Izaya’s fists clenched Shizuo’s shirt like he was trying to rip it off. He took one gasping breath and then let the word “Everything,” pour into Shizuo’s chest like a groan of raw, unrestrained agony. It was so overwhelming Shizuo felt like he was choking on it. His breath hitched, and the tears he’d been trying to hold back finally spilled over his lashes and ran down his temples.

It’s okay, he said to himself, as Izaya began to sob so hard it sounded like he was screaming. He let the other’s wrists go so he could move his shaking fingers to wrap around Izaya’s shoulders instead.

It’s going to be okay.

He held Izaya as he broke down, and he held on because he was afraid that if he didn’t, this heart-wrenching, all consuming wave would sweep both of them away. Not that he thought it really mattered, in the end.

He was going to drown anyway.

Chapter Text

It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for Izaya to pull himself together, and even then, he never quite did.

He felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum; hitting and screaming and then breaking down into hot miserable tears. He cried into Shizuo’s neck, and clutched onto his shirt, all while the other boy stroked fingers through his hair and held him so painfully tight, Izaya wondered if it was the only thing keeping the fractured pieces of himself together.

At some point Shizuo had sat himself up and shuffled back against the building wall so he had something to lean against while Izaya continued to cry in his lap. Once he’d started, it was hard to stop. It felt like every time he tried to hold his breath and stifle his sobs, they just came back harder than they had before. Feeling Shizuo shake and cry under him just made him want to sob harder. Never had he so truly hated himself. This was unforgivable, indefensible. Izaya was too afraid to lift his head and see the tears wetting Shizuo’s lashes, or the bruises staining his cheeks. He wished he could have just stayed where he was for the rest of his life.

His breathing had finally begun to even out, and his tears were drying tacky over his cheeks. In the wake of such overwhelming, uncontrollable emotion, Izaya felt surprisingly numb. There was something almost-pleasant about it, something close to relief. After feeling so much for so long, the opportunity to feel nothing at all, even for only a few moments, was like pulling the knife out of a wound — more painful in some ways, and less so in others.

‘Sorry’ seemed entirely insufficient at this point; Izaya didn’t think any kind of apology was worth the breath it’d take for him to speak it. There was no excuse, and there was nothing he could say to take back all the things he’d done, but he still felt like he needed to say something, even if it was only to keep his tangled thoughts from choking him.

He shifted in Shizuo’s lap, and turned his face so he could take a full breath unrestricted by the wet collar of the other boy’s sport shirt. He tried to wipe the back of a hand across his nose but he wasn’t sure how much of a difference it actually made. When he began to slowly lift his head and sit up in Shizuo’s lap, the other boy’s hand fell from his hair and came to rest comfortingly at his grazed knee. It took him a moment to wipe a hand across his face, and then another one to count the buttons on Shizuo’s shirt; there were three — all running down from an open collar, and all of them, left undone. Finally he found the strength to slowly lift his gaze and let it fall to Shizuo’s face.

His eyes were red, and Izaya could see shiny tear tracks drying down the sides of his face. He looked tired, and sad, and there was the slightest bit of purpling over the arch of his cheekbone, and a small bit of blood drying over his bottom lip, but still they quirked on a little smile when their eyes met. Izaya let his gaze fall back down to the buttons on the other’s shirt. “I hate my brain,” He said, voice raw from screaming. “There’s something wrong with it.” Surely Shizuo knew that, at this point. He’d always said Izaya was fucked in the head when they’d hated each other, and now it was true, or maybe it was just more true than it already had been before. Izaya took a shallow breath and counted the buttons again. He wasn’t going to cry. “I wish I could give myself a lobotomy.”

Shizuo shifted forward. Izaya tried not to flinch when the other’s hand came up to hold his cheek. “I don’t want you to give yourself a lobotomy,” He said so softly it was almost a whisper. His lips pressed to Izaya’s bowed forehead, and Izaya felt his heart clench painfully inside his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, but new tears still spilled silently down his cheeks. Shizuo’s thumb gently wiped one of them away.

“I’ve really fucked everything up, haven’t I?” Izaya asked. Every inhale shuddered and shook, but he kept his lips shut on any sobs that tried to break free.

Shizuo’s fingers dragged across another falling tear. “We’ll figure it out.”

We.

Shizuo wasn’t abandoning him, Shizuo wasn’t leaving him to bare this weight alone — or at least he wasn’t just yet.

“I don’t wanna go back.” Izaya couldn’t bare the thought of facing anyone after what he’d done. He knew that was selfish, and weak, but he’d never claimed to be anything else. Shizuo just nodded slowly.

“Do you want to go home?”

Izaya grimaced. He didn’t want to be alone, and even worse, he didn’t want to be with Shirou. Home wasn’t his house. Home was this, home was here, with Shizuo holding him like he was going to protect him, with Shizuo’s fingers stroking his cheek like he was still worth something. Izaya shook his head.

“I wanna go home,” Shizuo said with a sigh that reminded Izaya how truly exhausted he must have been. “But I want you to come with me.”

“Okay,” Izaya said. That was fine, that was good. He knew he needed to get out of here before someone saw him anyway. He tried to push himself up from the ground and out of Shizuo’s lap, but his injured arm completely gave out from under him. Shizuo caught him gently by his other shoulder and held him steady.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Izaya answered quietly, but he already felt like crying again. He was in a lot of pain, and felt like he’d done so much damage to his body he was worried it might never be the same again.

“Hold on to me,” Shizuo said. He pulled Izaya’s legs around his waist, and kept his fingers gripping tight above his knees. Izaya wound his good arm around the other’s neck and held on tight as Shizuo shifted a little bit before pushing himself up to standing with Izaya still in his arms. It wasn’t easy; Izaya could feel the effort straining in Shizuo’s body as he brought both his own and Izaya’s weight up from the ground with just the bend of his legs. It was a little surprising, that something usually so effortless for the other boy now seemed like it was as gruelling as it would have been for any normal person his size. “I’ll carry you home,” He still said with confidence.

Izaya shook his head. “It’s fine, I can walk.” He wasn’t refusing out of self-consciousness; he didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed or ashamed about something like this. Shizuo could have said he was going to push him home in a pram and Izaya would have just shrugged his sore shoulders and probably gone to sleep. He just didn’t want to be the reason Shizuo was hurting anymore than he already was. If Izaya’s own feathery weight was enough to press against the limits of Shizuo’s inhuman strength, Izaya thought the other boy must have been more exhausted than he was actually letting on.

“Okay.” Shizuo didn’t argue. He let Izaya drop back down to the ground and unwind arms from around his shoulders. The idea of leaving was a little frightening — the last thing Izaya wanted was to have to engage in some sort of high-speed, teacher-student chase — but he needed his bag and his phone, and so he was just going to have to hope that everyone was still too occupied with the bruised and bleeding boy outside to bother looking in this one’s direction.

They moved carefully and quietly back inside the school, if Shizuo noticed Izaya was walking too close behind him, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully, the locker room was still empty. Izaya quickly grabbed his things, stuffing Shizuo’s jumper and his regular uniform into his bag because he didn’t have time to change back into it. He kept his head down in the halls — even if they were mostly empty — and only let himself take a deeper than usual breath once they’d stepped outside the front of the building, and covered most of the stairs leading away from it. Izaya couldn’t hear ambulance sirens, or see flashing lights in the distance, and he hated that it made him feel better about himself.

The gate was still closed — which made sense considering school hadn’t officially ended yet — and Izaya really wasn’t looking forward to scaling it a second time. Shizuo showed less hesitation, straight away he slung his bag across his body and began climbing the chainlink fence. By the time Izaya stepped forward and began to do the same, the other boy was already at the top. His arms ached as he used them to climb, and his lungs burnt with every breath he took. He was exhausted, felt like he’d been drained to absolute emptiness. He swung his legs clumsily over the top of the fence and began to make his way down. He grit his teeth as he landed with a painful jolt.

“You okay?” Shizuo asked him. Izaya only nodded in response, afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d say no and start crying again; and maybe Shizuo knew that, somehow, because he stepped in close and threaded his fingers between Izaya’s own until they were holding tight to his hand. Izaya squeezed back. He didn’t care that it made the scrapes on his knuckles sting. “Let’s go home,” Shizuo said. Izaya followed him as he began to walk.

It had been a long day, Izaya realised as they moved slowly down the side of the street. It was hard to believe everything that had already happened in the last twenty four hours: breaking into the warehouse, almost dying, killing someone, Shirou kissing him, seeing Shiki, seeing kuza again, having 3 panic attacks, multiple fights with shizuo, being confronted by the worst thing that had ever happened to him and beating a classmate to a bloody pulp. God, what awful, overstimulating movie was he living in that shit like this kept happening to him over and over again without time for him to contemplate or come to terms with it? He’d say he’d had enough, that he couldn’t take any more of it, but things kept going wrong and Izaya kept picking up the broken pieces of himself until his arms were full and his soul was empty. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe the better way to get his message across to the universe that he’d had enough was to roll over and just fucking die.

No. Izaya tightened his hold on Shizuo’s hand. He wouldn’t let his thoughts go there.

He couldn't.

Shizuo’s hold tightened in turn, grounding him to reality — at least as much is his brain would allow. He tried to focus on his surroundings as they walked, the way their shoes scuffed on the road, the way the houses changed in shape in size, the way Shizuo pulled him the slightest bit closer to his side every time a car went past too close. He wondered if it was because Shizuo didn’t trust the car to stay straight on the road, or because he didn’t trust Izaya not to jump out in front of it.

He wasn’t going to ask.

A handful more minutes into their journey and Izaya made out a droning sound ahead of them. He stiffened as he realised what it was — a police siren. He held his breath as his brain kicked into overdrive. He looked down the street ahead of them and swore he saw a flash of lights. Were they looking for him? Already?

Red and blue turned out onto the street they were walking. Izaya watched with wide eyes and a racing heart as it headed down towards them.

Should he be running? Where would he run, where would he go—

The car turned off into another side street, and Izaya released some of the breath he’d been holding. They weren’t looking for him, at least not yet. Izaya was only now realising how he’d neglected to truly contemplate the potential consequences of what he’d done. He knew the boy he’d hit was a high-achieving, stuck-up prick. He knew he came from a wealthy, overprotective family; they wouldn’t let this go, they’d want to get the police involved, which would have been a disaster even if he hadn’t just spent the last year working for the yakuza and recently become a murderer. What if they dug too deep and found out? What if they got to Shirou, or Shiki, or Kuza, and they all unleashed the truth because he was becoming more effort than he was worth to protect?

“Hey.”

Shizuo’s voice cut through his internal rambling. Izaya only just now realised how tightly he’d been gripping to the other’s hand. “What?”

“Stop freaking out,” Shizuo said. “They’re not looking for you.”

“You don’t know that.” Izaya kept his gaze trained to the gravel as they walked, so he wasn’t sure if Shizuo was looking at him or not.

“I know you’re not going to go to jail for punching someone. Fights happen in schools all the time.”

Izaya wasn’t so sure about that, but he had a feeling Shizuo was trying to convince himself more than anything. Maybe he wouldn’t go to jail for beating someone up, but he was pretty sure he would for slitting someone’s throat. They might even send him to real prison; not just some detention centre where all the naughty kids went, but actual, brutal, terrifying prison — with adults who had killed and raped, and guards that didn’t care. Izaya knew he wouldn’t last a day. He wondered if his best chance of getting out of it would be to plead insanity and take an extended stay at a mental hospital instead. He wondered if that was maybe the best option for him right now anyway.

“Something’s probably going to happen though,” Shizuo said, with a calm certainty that finally pulled Izaya’s gaze up to the other’s face. Shizuo was already looking at him. “And you won’t be able to run from it forever.”

Izaya swallowed. “I know,” He said; and he did, he was just hoping he could run for a little while longer.

They fell back into silence. Only the scrape of their shoes on the road, and the whistle of the breeze a background for Izaya’s thoughts. As they moved further from the school, the streets narrowed and there were less cars moving past. They were reaching the point where their paths would have been diverging, had they been going back to separate homes. They turned a corner, moved halfway down the street, and then Shizuo came to a sudden stop beside him. Izaya looked up from where he’d been watching the ground to see their path was being blocked by a hooded figure. He’d been leaning against a resident’s brick fence, legs stretched out across the footpath, but as Shizuo and Izaya both came to a pause a few metres away from him, he pushed himself upright and stood facing them in the middle of the path. He pulled the hood of his jumper back from where it had been casting shadows over his face, and Izaya felt a sharp bolt of horrified panic lance its way down his spine.

Fuck.

His grip tightened around Shizuo’s reflexively, before he realised what he was doing and immediately dropped the other’s hand altogether. It was too late; Kuza’s eyes followed the motion with a predatory smirk. “Aw,” He cooed, “Don’t stop being cute just because I’m here.”

Izaya felt like he was going to be sick as the other boy took a few lazy steps towards them. His face held the marks of their recent fight; swollen, bruised — he looked like he’d taken a dive off a rocky cliff. Eyes wide and muscles taught, Izaya watched him come closer with trepidation curling in his blood, gaze locked onto the other’s lips like he might be able to see the words before they left his mouth. “So this must be the boyfriend then?” Kuza drawled, finally coming to a stop before them. Izaya couldn’t bring himself to meet Shizuo’s stare, but when the other boy gave up on trying to catch it and instead turned his full attention to Kuza blocking their path, he didn’t feel much better.

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Shizuo said.

Kuza just smiled. “Hmm what would you say, Orihara-kun?” Finally Izaya flicked his gaze up to meet Kuza’s own. Whatever look he was wearing on his face made the other boy smile wider. “Business associate? Partner in crime? Someone you like to beat the shit out of when things don’t go your way?”

“What do you want?” Izaya finally found the strength to speak over him. He needed to get out of here, he needed to run, but he wasn’t entirely sure that Shizuo would follow him.

“I just wanted to check up on you after our last tryst,” Kuza said. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you fractured my cheekbone and I’m absolutely certain you broke my nose.” The other boy touched his own face tenderly. “But once again you look surprisingly unscathed.”

Izaya grit his teeth and glared. He was too afraid to turn and watch the way Shizuo kept flicking his gaze between the two of them. He was too afraid to breathe when the other boy parted his mouth to speak. “You did that to him?” He asked.

“Oh don’t worry, Shizu-chan,” Kuza drawled mockingly. “I know he’s capable of much, much worse. I should be grateful he showed me such mercy.”

No. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening. He needed him to stop before—

“If that’s what you think then why the fuck are you still here? I told you to stay away from me.” Izaya’s voice was firm but his hands were trembling. He didn’t know how to stop this. He felt like he was going to be sick he—

“I know,” Kuza groaned with over dramatically fake remorse. “But I just couldn’t help myself!” He fixed Izaya with a smile but his eyes were black pools of contempt. A shiver wracked its way down Izaya’s spine, and he knew what the other boy was going to say before he’d even opened his mouth to speak. “What was it you said again?” Kuza pretended to ponder. “‘If you go anywhere near Shizu-chan, I’ll kill you. I’ll slit your throat just like I did his’.” Izaya held his breath. Everything went very quiet, but maybe that was just because everyone else was holding their breath too. “I told you I’m not afraid of you.”

“Izaya, what the fuck is he talking about?” For the first time since Kuza had made his appearance, Izaya turned to look at Shizuo. Shoulders tense, fists clenched, he was staring at the ground in front of them.

“Nothing,” Izaya tried to say, “It’s nothing, he’s just—”

“Nothing?” Kuza spoke over him. “That’s what that man’s life was worth to you? Nothing?”

Izaya’s breath got caught in his throat, panic turning to anger, turning to panic again. “Shut the fuck up,” He seethed, taking a few steps closer towards the other boy. “You have no idea what you’re talking about."

“Oh but I do,” Kuza said, “I know so, so much!” Smiling excitedly, he began to circle Izaya like he had their first meeting. Izaya didn’t keep turning to keep his back from him. He just stood where he was, fists clenched and head hung low. “I know your head is filled with so many dark little secrets.” Izaya knew Kuza had stopped behind him, but he still flinched when the other’s hands came out to grip his shoulders and turn him so he was facing Shizuo. “Has he told you any?” Kuza asked the blonde from over Izaya’s shoulder. Izaya didn’t look up from the ground, he was starting to feel like he might pass out.

“The only thing I don’t know is which one you want him to know the least, but I think I can make a pretty good guess,” Kuza went on, leaning closer until every word was a too-loud whisper that puffed warm against Izaya’s ear and jaw. Shizuo could still hear it, he was sure, just like he was sure Shizuo could see the way Kuza’s hands were sliding from his shoulders down to his waist. And even though his fists were tight and his body was tense, Shizuo wasn’t doing anything to keep Kuza’s fingers from running lecherously down Izaya’s hips or the dark cloak of his voice from the side of Izaya’s face. Shizuo must really hate him now. He guessed he should have seen that coming.

He flinched when fingers suddenly gripped his jaw and forced his head to the side, so when Kuza parted his lips to speak again, Izaya could see the sadistic pleasure shadowing his eyes. Worst of all, he could see that he was serious, he could see that every word Kuza said, he meant with absolute certainty. “I know all of the things you don’t want him to,” He murmured, “Every shameful, sharp edged piece that cuts you up inside.” From the hand gripping his jaw, Kuza’s thumb moved to press against the cut marring his lower lip. Izaya could do nothing but stare with wide eyes and frozen limbs into the other’s hypnotising gaze. “I know you’re secrets,” He said, “And watching you like this, waiting to see which one I’ll spill next—” Kuza’s lips twisted on a dangerous smirk— “I could get off on it.”

Izaya swallowed.

Mostly because his mouth was very dry, but he was also hoping it might quell some of the nausea tightening in his stomach. For the first time since meeting him, Izaya was scared of Kuza; scared of what he might say that was worse than what he already had, scared of someone else having this kind of control over him, scared of that look in his eyes that reminded him of—

“Oi.” Shizuo’s voice rang out in a growl. Kuza’s hand dropped from his jaw and Izaya turned to face the storm brewing in the white-knuckle weight of Shizuo’s fists and the all-over tense line of his body. He looked like he was going to hit someone, and Izaya had a bad feeling it was going to be him. He emotionally braced himself for it as the other’s hand came out to grab his shoulder, and then physically braced himself as he was yanked out of Kuza’s grip so hard he fell to the ground beside Shizuo’s feet. When he looked up though, Shizuo wasn’t watching him, he was storming towards Kuza with his clenched fist at the ready. Izaya could only watch on in slight surprise and mild satisfaction as Shizuo reeled his fist back and then swung it forward to punch Kuza across the face. Genuine, sudden fear was the last thing Izaya saw flicker in the other boy’s eyes before he flew back into a nearby resident’s picket fence, groaning in pain as wood splintered and his face hit the concrete. Watching the blood run from his nose wasn’t as satisfying as it had been the first time, not when Shizuo was shaking and then gripping the back of his hand like punching Kuza had hurt. Which was ridiculous because the other boy was still conscious and in their immediate area which meant Shizuo had only hit him with a fraction of his usual strength. Izaya briefly wondered if it was possible that he’d put Shizuo through so much stress, he was beginning to lose his inhuman tolerance for pain. He tried not to think about it; there was only so much he had room in his head to feel guilty for at once.

Shizuo very slowly stalked over to where Kuza was lying face down on the footpath, blood pooling under his face. Izaya watched him use his foot to turn the other boy roughly onto his back, and then settle that same foot over his throat. Shizuo leaned down close to Kuza’s face as he spoke. “I don’t care who you are, or what you know,” He said menacingly, voice barely loud enough for Izaya to hear it. “If you ever try to hurt Izaya again, in any way… I’ll kill you.” Kuza made a gurgling sound as Shizuo pressed his foot down. When he began to toss his head side to side, Shizuo reached out and closed fingers around his jaw, holding it still for the force of his gaze and his words as one. “Look at me,” He demanded calmly. “Look in my eyes and see how fucking serious I am. I will.” And all of a sudden Shizuo let go of Kuza’s face, stepped off of his throat, and turned away from the other boy’s coughing, bleeding form. Izaya was still on the ground, and he stared up at the frighteningly dark look on Shizuo’s face as he came closer, wondering if he was going to be next, but when Shizuo stopped before him it was to reach out and offer his hand. Izaya took it, slowly, warily, and Shizuo made up for that waste of time by quickly and roughly pulling him to his feet.

Looking more tired and empty than Izaya had ever seen him before, Shizuo gave him his back. “I’m going home,” He said. Izaya’s heart was teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to plummet at a moments notice. “If you follow me, you better be ready to explain everything. No more lies, no more secrets.” Shizuo took a deep breath. “Because I’m done, Izaya. With all of it. And if that’s not something you can do… then you should go home too.” Shizuo began to walk, past Kuza’s limp, possibly unconscious form, and away from where Izaya was still standing on the sidewalk, barely breathing and on the verge of tears. Izaya looked back the way they’d come, looked at Kuza on the ground, and then looked ahead at Shizuo’s slowly retreating back.

Nothing is worth being without you.

Izaya rushed forward, first at a walk, and then a hurried jog. He wasn’t sure if he was chasing the light or running away from the dark, but it didn’t matter either way because Shizuo slowed to a stop as he heard Izaya approaching, and then he was there, and Izaya felt his eyes burn with overwhelming relief that for once he’d done something right.

Shizuo didn’t look at him, or speak to him, but his hand gently caught Izaya’s own until their fingers were locked tight enough that Izaya knew Shizuo wasn’t going to let him go. They began to walk back, only Izaya’s quiet tears and soft sniffles there to break the silence.

Chapter Text

The closer they got to Shizuo’s house, the more Izaya’s stomach turned. The other boy’s grip was still tight on his hand, so he couldn’t have run away even if he’d wanted to.

He was starting to think he wanted to.

But he held on — to Shizuo’s hand and to his resolve. He wouldn’t let himself regret this because the alternative was too much to consider. He didn’t want Shizuo to leave him, even if a part of Izaya was worried that would happen anyway.

Shizuo held onto him even as he pushed the weight of his front door open and toed off his shoes. “I’m home,” He called out, while Izaya struggled with the laces on his own shoes one-handed. Shizuo’s mother stepped out from further in the house.

“Welcome home, dear,” She said, pausing in the entryway as she caught sight of Izaya there too. “Oh, Izaya-kun,” She chirped with a smile.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Izaya said, ducking his head politely. Shizuo’s hand tightened around his own and Izaya watched Namiko’s smile fall down into something horrified.

“My god, what have you done to yourself?” She asked, gaze flicking over all the injuries marking his appearance. It lingered at his throat, and then it cut to Shizuo beside him, and as her gaze continued to flick between the two, Izaya began to realise with his own slow dawning horror that oh god maybe she thought Shizuo was the one who had done this to him.

“I had an accident on my bike,” He quickly explained, hand unconsciously tightening around Shizuo’s own. “I’m sure it looks a lot worse than it is.”

“Oh…” She didn’t sound convinced, but she still cooed, “You poor thing,” with a strained smile plastered to her face, and a gaze that kept drifting to the hand-print bruises wrapped around his throat.

“We’re going upstairs,” Shizuo said suddenly, with a force to his voice and a tug to Izaya’s hand that betrayed his hurt.

“Shizuo, the door—”

“Open, I know,” Shizuo snapped at his mother without looking back. He continued dragging Izaya up the stairs and into his room, leaving the door open and finally letting go of Izaya’s hand so he could throw his bag onto the floor and drop himself on his bed. A silence descended, and, careful not to break it, Izaya gently placed his bag down next to Shizuo’s, and just as gently placed himself down next to Shizuo on the bed. The other boy had his face in his hands; Izaya heard him take four deep breaths before dropping them to his lap. “She thinks I did that to you,” He said.

“You don’t know tha—,” Izaya started quietly, until Shizuo cut him a look that made him swallow his words and go back to staring down at his feet. He began nervously twisting his hands in his lap. His left one was a little sore from Shizuo squeezing it so hard. “I’ll explain to her what really happened,” He said. “I’m sure she’ll—”

“How about you explain to me what really happened,” Shizuo cut him off again with another fix of his dark, piercing gaze.

Izaya swallowed. He didn’t know where to start or what to share, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to set the words free. He was still cold from walking outside in clothes that covered next to nothing, and still in so much fucking pain from his arm that he could barely think. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

"Yes, you do,” Shizuo insisted, brows furrowed and an angry growl on his voice. “I want you to tell me what happened today, and yesterday, and every other day these past few weeks. I want to point to every bruise, or cut, or scar on your body and you to tell me how you got it and from who. That’s the fucking deal, Izaya.”

It was through great strength of will that Izaya didn’t flinch away from Shizuo’s rising voice, but he wasn’t sure he had it in him to keep his tears at bay as well. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t be vulnerable while Shizuo was angry at him, but he also didn’t want to fight. “That’s not fair.” Izaya shook his head.

“It’s not fair?”

“No,” Izaya yelled, “My life and my body isn’t some open book you get to flick through until you feel satisfied!”

“I’m not saying it is!” Shizuo argued. He stood from the bed and Izaya could see the frustration tensing in his arms and his shoulders and his fists clenched at his sides, turning his words sharp and his eyes angry. “Someone has been hurting you and I want to know why and I want to know who! Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Why the fuck is that so hard for you to understand?”

“Shizuo,” Izaya whispered brokenly, feeling the other’s words like a spear through his heart. Shizuo ignored him; through his building, manic rage, Izaya wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard him at all. His gaze fell to the bandage on Izaya’s right wrist, and he lunged forward with a frightening about of speed and a dangerous amount of barely restrained strength to close his grip around Izaya’s arm. “Who did this to you!?” He yelled hysterically, “Who’s hurting you!? Tell me!”

“You’re hurting me!” Izaya yelled back. And he was, with his words and his voice, and the way he was gripping Izaya’s cut arm so tight Izaya was worried it might break along with the rest of him. They were both breathing hard, Izaya through hot tears that felt like fiery betrayal burning their way down his cheeks. Shizuo saw them, and he saw his fingers tight around Izaya’s wrist, and then he dropped it with a start like he’d only just now realised what he’d been doing. Izaya snatched his arm back and used the other one to scrub away his tears. Anger was flaring to life inside of him, almost enough to smother out the hurt. “You wanna know who fucking did this to me?” He sneered, unwinding the bandage from his arm with no grace at all and then holding his slashed wrist out to Shizuo before him. “I did. I used a knife to slit my wrist on the fucking school toilet floor because I thought it would make me feel better. Are you happy now? Are you gonna beat me up and take your anger out on me until you feel like a hero!?”

Shizuo went very quiet, and as the adrenaline tapered off, Izaya did too. He couldn’t believe he just said that. If Shizuo didn’t already think he was insane, he definitely did now. He was staring with wide eyes at the angry, clotted slashes marring the inside of Izaya’s forearm. “Why?” He asked, voice quiet like it was difficult to break the silence.

Izaya turned his arm into his lap so Shizuo couldn’t see it anymore. He sniffed and scrubbed his eyes again. “I just told you,” He said, “I thought it would make me feel better.”

There was a loaded pause, and then Shizuo met his gaze reluctantly. “…Did it?”

“Yeah,” Izaya answered honestly, and a look of pain passed over Shizuo’s face like Izaya had used a knife to draw lines of blood across his skin instead. Very slowly and very gently, he sat back down on the bed.

“Everything else,” Shizuo didn’t look at him, “Did you do that to yourself too?”

“Wh—? No.” Izaya shook his head. He wished hadn’t said anything, wished he’d kept the stupid bandage on.

“Izaya,” Shizuo started carefully, turning to face him on the bed. His eyes looked glassy like he wanted to cry, and his hand twitched in his lap like he wanted to reach out and take Izaya’s own. Izaya was glad he did neither. “This… isn’t about me taking my anger out on someone, or feeling like a hero. I—” Shizuo stopped, frowned, and shook his head. “I really care about you, I know you know that, but it’s tearing me apart having to watch you destroy yourself because someone is hurting you. It’s not fair for you to ask me to do that without getting to help you.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Izaya said defensively.

“Ughh,” Shizuo groaned like he was in pain, hands suddenly flying to his head. Izaya could hear him making the effort to take deep, even breaths. “You said you were ready to talk, Izaya. That was why you came back with me. That was the deal.”

“So, what?” He snapped. “You’re going to break up with me if I don’t spill every dark secret to you?” Saying it out loud, acknowledging the reality, felt like a punch to Izaya’s sore stomach. He didn’t want that, he didn’t want this. Shizuo stood from the bed again in another burst of frustrated energy. He began to pace the room and Izaya clenched his hands together in his lap as the urge to cry returned home to him once more.

“Fucking hell, forget every dark secret and every scar — I just need something, Izaya. Anything, god, I need to know you trust me.” Shizuo stopped pacing. “This is it,” He said with finality to the open door, “This is the last fucking time I’m going to ask you.” Slowly, he turned to face Izaya. His eyes were red and his breathing, heavy, but worst of all Izaya could see a broken, painful honesty in his eyes that told him this was real, this was the truth. Shizuo grimaced as a single tear rolled down his cheek, but he didn’t move to wipe it. “If you care at all about me,” He said, “If this whole thing isn’t just a joke to you, say something. Please.”

It hurt to see Shizuo cry, and it hurt to see him beg, more than any injury on his body, more than anything else ever. The way Shizuo was looking at him now made Izaya feel like his soul was being torn free from his body, but still he couldn’t say anything. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, so how the fuck was he supposed to speak? He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t, he couldn’t do this. He wanted to tell him, he so desperately did, but when he opened his mouth and tried to find words, and then tried to force words they wouldn’t come. Nothing came, except more tears and more hurt, and a feeling of self-loathing so overwhelming Izaya wished he was alone so he could take his knife back to his wrist and make everything worse again. He closed his mouth, and then closed his eyes as fresh tears spilt over his lashes and down his cold cheeks.

Shizuo huffed a sad sounding laugh, one that tightened barbwire around Izaya’s chest. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” He said softly. Izaya opened his eyes in time to see the other boy shake his head and begin walking away towards the door.

No, Izaya whimpered inside his own head. Please, no, this can’t be happening. Say something, say something.

Panic clutching his chest, Izaya opened his mouth again, to set free a sob, a scream, a wait, but the only thing that fell from his lips was a tumble of rushed words that came in the shape of, “I was raped in junior school.”

…

It took a few moments for Izaya’s brain to catch up to his mouth, and once it had, once he realised what he’d said, he wished all too much there was still time to reach out into the air and take the words back before they got to Shizuo across the room. There wasn’t. Shizuo stood frozen with one foot on either side of the doorway and Izaya could only watch him watch the floor as regret settled in like black smoke in his lungs.

A part of him couldn’t believe he’d said it, didn’t want to believe he’d said it, but if the words had fallen only in the chaos of his head Shizuo wouldn’t be caught between the doorway like Izaya had just cut his strings. At least he stopped, at least he’s not leaving. That was what you wanted, someone reminded Izaya from a place he couldn’t see. And he knew that, he did, but this feeling — vulnerable, exposed, naked in a way that he was only a beating, fragile heart and a broken, ailing mind — was paralysing, especially at the thought that Shizuo might still leave anyway, especially at the thought that he might leave because of it.

“No… I… I mean…” Izaya tried to speak around the smoke in his throat. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s… not even relevant.”

Very slowly Shizuo began to turn, like if he moved too quickly Izaya might disappear into the shadows. Izaya thought about trying to dismiss it, about lying and saying it wasn’t true, but as Shizuo turned to fully face him, Izaya knew it was too late — in more ways than one. Shizuo fixed him with a look that made him realise the truth was written all over his face, and there were no masks left in his collection that were going to hide that from the boy across the room.

Shizuo opened his mouth to say something, Izaya waited for an ‘are you serious?’, or an ‘are you joking?’, but Shizuo must have realised that wasn’t necessary because he closed his mouth and just stared at him, stared through him. Izaya knew he looked as frightened as he felt. He turned away, because Shizuo’s soul-searching stare was like a physical pressure keeping his lungs from moving in his chest and Izaya needed to breathe. He looked back when he saw in his peripheral Shizuo turning to head towards the door. Something drew impossibly tight around his heart as he realised his worst fear was about to come true, but Shizuo stopped before walking through the door and reached out to gently close it instead. Izaya released the breath he’d been holding but struggled over another as Shizuo slowly made his way towards him, taking a seat on the bed so softly the mattress barely dipped under his weight. The silence was deafening. And then, “Izaya, I…”

“No,” Izaya shook his head. “Please can we both just forget I said anything. I don’t want to… I…”

I can’t breathe. I can’t do this.

“Okay,” Shizuo said softly, hands clasped very tightly in his lap. “You don’t have to.”

Izaya was sure they hadn’t meant to, but Shizuo’s words sparked an indignant kind of frustration in him anyway. “Seriously?” He snapped. “A second ago you were ready to dump me for not spilling my guts and now you’re saying I don’t have to anymore? Fuck you.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that for nothing, he’d ripped out the most heinous part of himself and thrown it at Shizuo for nothing. He shouldn’t have said anything, should’ve kept his stupid fucking mouth shut.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Shizuo said, voice still gentle and quiet like a breeze. “I didn’t think you’d say…”

“Something so disgusting?” Izaya muttered bitterly.

Immediately Shizuo shot him a firm look. “No,” He almost growled. “You know that’s not it so don’t say shit like that.”

But I don’t know. Izaya looked away, because if that was true then why did he feel so disgusting, so ashamed. Why did it feel like Shizuo wouldn’t want him anymore if he knew?

“I want you to tell me everything,” Shizuo said, some calm bleeding back into his voice. “I want to know everything. But something like that…” Izaya let his gaze drift back to the other boy, so he could see the earnestness glassing in his eyes. “I want you to tell me because you trust me, not because I forced you to.”

Izaya let his breath shudder out of him. Didn’t Shizuo know how hard this was? Of course he trusted him, they’d done things together that he’d never feel safe enough to do with anyone else, but a month ago Shizuo had hated him, and sometimes, when he felt less like himself, Izaya started to doubt that a part of that wasn’t still true. “I do trust you,” He said, trying to hold Shizuo’s gaze even though sometimes it burnt like he was staring into the sun. “I just… don’t know how to do this…”

“What?”

Izaya grimaced. “Be vulnerable. Share stuff. It feels like you want to cut me open and look around inside and I don’t know how to deal with that.” Another shuddering breath. “I'm so scared you’re going to find something you don’t like and get rid of me.”

I don’t want you to leave me.

“I won’t,” Shizuo insisted, but Izaya shook his head.

“You don’t know that. You hated me before, what if you do again, and then I’ve told you all this stuff that you can use against me.”

The offended look that fell over Shizuo’s face was almost enough to make Izaya regret saying such a thing. He cast his gaze down with shame, and stared at the mottled bruises and cuts decorating his hands. A handful of silent seconds passed before Shizuo’s hand slowly reached out across the covers of the bed to take Izaya’s own. He flinched a bit, instinct telling him to pull away, but he let Shizuo take it anyway, and his heart began to swell at the simple, gentle contact. “Izaya,” Shizuo said, but Izaya was still looking at their hands and trying not to cry. “Izaya. Look at me.”

Slowly and with apprehension, Izaya lifted his gaze to let it be captured by Shizuo’s. The other boy’s eyes were glassy, but Izaya had never seen him look so sincere. “Even at your worst, even at my worst, when we were so cruel to each other… I never would have used something like that against you. I swear.” And there was something about the way Shizuo said it, about the way he looked right now, that made Izaya believe him. Izaya believed him, and he didn’t think it was just because he wanted to. “Izaya,” Shizuo continued, “I know what that guy said. I know that maybe you did something awful, but even that, even something worse than that…” Shizuo took a breath while Izaya held onto his own. “I don’t know if it makes me a terrible person or not but I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make me hate you.” Shizuo let go of a small, quiet laugh. “I don’t think I could even remember how to.”

Izaya tried to laugh too but it fell from his lips as a sob. Ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, he cringed as more tears burnt their way over his lashes and down his cheeks. How could this be happening? Shizuo was telling him there was nothing he could do that was so bad he’d hate him? That there was nothing to be afraid of? Izaya had been so scared all of this time, had been so sure, but even after everything Shizuo was still holding onto his hand like he never wanted to let go, even after everything he still believed in him. Izaya didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know where he was supposed to keep it safe, so he just squeezed the other boy’s hand as tight as he possibly could, and tried to breathe through his agony laced relief. “Shizuo, I’ve really fucked up,” He choked out, “Really, really badly.” He paused for the time it took him to heave a breath. “My life is a mess, my brain is a mess and I feel like I’m going crazy. I wouldn’t even know where to start if I told you anything.”

And he wanted to. He thought that if Shizuo could put that kind of trust in him, that kind of devotion, Izaya could too. He owed it to him — or maybe he owed it to himself.

“Start with what you just told me,” Shizuo suggested gently, stroking the top of Izaya’s hand with his thumb.

Izaya shook his head as his heart plummeted down into his stomach. “That doesn’t matter, it’s not even releva—”

“Izaya, it does matter,” Shizuo cut him off firmly. His fingers tightened around Izaya’s hand, but it wasn’t enough to hurt. “And I think it’s the most relevant thing you’ve ever said.” Izaya still shook his head, because he didn’t want that to be true, even if a part of him knew it probably was. “Besides, this isn’t just about me wanting to know everything,” Shizuo continued, “Telling someone about this stuff is supposed to make you feel better. It’s not good for you to keep all this shit bottled up inside.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” Izaya asked derisively. Shizuo didn’t answer, and when Izaya finally looked up from the bed he realised it was because the other boy was settling him with an unimpressed glare. Izaya deflated, averting his gaze to the side. “I don’t need help.”

“Izaya, I’m sure you wouldn’t need help setting the whole fucking world on fire, but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone.” Shizuo’s second hand came out to join his first in a grip around Izaya’s own. Izaya looked back to him. “Give me a chance to help you,” He pleaded.

Being on the receiving end of Shizuo’s startlingly honest gaze was confronting, but Izaya held it like he kept holding his hand. “What if you can’t?” He asked softly.

“Then let me help just by being on your side.”

And Izaya let his gusting breath go in something between a sigh and a sad laugh. He was shaking, but he wasn’t sure it was from only the cold. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this, going to actually tell someone because that made it real, that meant no more escaping it, or hiding from it, or hiding it from himself, and a part of Izaya was worried that meant he might drown it. But, feeling Shizuo’s unyielding grip on his hand, and unwavering gaze on his face, Izaya felt comforted by the thought that even if Shizuo couldn’t save him, at least they’d maybe drown together.

Chapter Text

At first he thinks it makes him special, important, like he’s being rewarded because he was born better than everyone else. It’s not long before he realises that it isn’t true, and instead begins to wonder, with lead in his lungs and an open pit in his stomach, if maybe it’s the opposite, if maybe he’s being punished because he’s bad.

Why else would everyone be laughing at him?

“Izaya.”

Izaya jerked back to reality at the sound of Shizuo’s voice. He’d only left for the time it had taken him to walk over to Izaya’s bag at the front of the room, pull the jumper he’d borrowed free, and then walk back, but apparently that had been all the time Izaya’s brain needed to take him somewhere else.

“Are you okay?” Shizuo asked, holding his jumper out uncertainly between them.

Izaya took it. He was still cold, still shaking, but he clutched the material in his lap like it was a stuffed toy instead of putting in on. “No,” He answered honestly, vacant stare settled on a loose thread coming from Shizuo’s blanket. He was realising very quickly that this wasn’t going to be possible without thinking about it, without reliving it in his head like he’d kept reliving last night for hours after. He wasn’t sure if Shizuo understood that, or if it would even make a difference if he did.

He didn’t want to cry again, he so was sick of crying, and hurting, and being pathetic, but it was harder to put distance between himself and this than it was with everything else. It was too close, too permeated into all the broken pieces of himself. He didn’t think he was going to be able to tell the story like it had happened to someone else, and even if Shizuo might argue that was a good thing, Izaya didn’t understand why.

He swallowed, and licked his lips, and then swallowed again, and took a breath that was meant to carry speech but left him in silence. Shizuo waited patiently across from him. Izaya took another breath and let it out in a frustrated laugh. “I don’t know why this is so hard,” he said, nails digging into his palms.

“Yes, you do,” Shizuo said softly. “If it was easy maybe saying it wouldn’t matter as much. It’s important because it’s hard.”

Izaya wanted to glare at him, wanted to tell him to shut the hell up, but that was only because he knew he was right. He focused on the unravelling thread from Shizuo’s blanket, and tried to start unravelling all the noise in head. “There was this teacher,” He started, on the end of an old breath, instead of the start of a new one, hoping to trick his brain into thinking this was just another conversation. He tried to imagine he was only talking to himself, a child, tried to imagine he was telling him a bedtime story, even if it was a particularly horrific one. “In my elementary school. He… was nice, always praised me, said I was the smartest in the class.” Still without looking up from that thread, Izaya played with pushing nails into his hand. He wasn’t sure why he was starting it like this, if dragging it out was some personal torture, or his way of prolonging the inevitable.

“Sometimes I stayed back during lunch or after school to help clean up, or help mark some of the other kids work,” He said, “I didn’t really have any friends so no one cared that I was missing.”

And couldn’t he just leave it at that? Couldn’t Shizuo just read between the stupid lines?

Apparently not, because he was still silent across from him, waiting, and there was someone inside Izaya that was waiting too, so he tried to keep going.

“At some point he must of asked if he could start doing stuff to me.” He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his stomach twist like it was trying to set itself free from his body. “I didn’t really know what I was saying yes to. I think I just didn’t want to disappoint him.” A bad taste was rising up Izaya’s throat; he felt too sick to do this anymore. Shizuo was going to have to unravel the rest on his own. “Anyway you can probably imagine where it went from there.”

“Tell me,” Shizuo said — softly, gently, the words an invitation and not a demand. Izaya shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like he was choking; sick and angry, angry that Shizuo was doing this to him, trying to make him spell it out. Why did he have to? He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to. “He just… he…” A shaky breath. “You know, got bored of the tame stuff, he—” Another breath, too quickly, “—wanted to do stuff the adult way.”

“You mean—”

“God Shizuo, enough,” Izaya snapped desperately. “Why are you doing this? Do you want me to give you a detailed play by play of the way he bent me over the desk and fucked me till my face was bruised? Why does it even matter!?”

Looking up, Izaya saw that Shizuo had gone very pale. Eyes wide and hands in frozen fists, he looked a little like he was going to be sick. Nauseous regret clawed its way up Izaya’s throat — maybe he was going to be sick too. He hadn’t wanted it to come out like that, he hadn’t wanted that to come out at all. He rubbed shaking hands over his face and tried to take a breath through that horrible feeling twisting ‘round inside him. He didn’t want to think about it, but the box was open and now everything was falling out, crushing him, suffocating him — or maybe that was just the shame, tearing up his insides and drowning him in shallow breaths.

“Sorry, I…” Izaya trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. Shizuo still looked catatonic, and Izaya hated the thought that he might be seeing it, imagining it — pain and tears and screaming. That wouldn’t be true though, he’d been too scared to scream, he—

—barely ever makes a sound. When he cries, it’s silent, face a mix of dried tears and mottled bruises, because he always holds his head down too hard, fist in his hair so tight. And it’s his desk, always his desk because then he has to spend the day remembering it as he sits there in class, while the other kids laugh at his purple cheek and his pale face, and he—

“Hey.” Shizuo’s voice was a soft breeze winding through his hair. Izaya took a deep breath and realised he’d been staring at nothing for longer than he’d meant to.

“Sorry,” Izaya said again, but Shizuo shook his head.

“Please don’t say that, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Izaya wasn’t sure if that was true, but he didn’t argue. He just chewed on his lip, and focused all his energy on keeping air in his lungs and his tears at bay. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t.

“Um,” Shizuo started carefully, “How long did he…”

“A while,” Izaya answered simply. He didn’t remember how long exactly, right now he felt like it encompassed an entire portion of his life, like maybe it’d been years, maybe it’d been always, but in reality it was probably much less than that. Long enough for his mum to have dragged him to the doctors, because he’d stopped being able eat without throwing up, and had withered away to something on the verge of being vacant; an empty skin, a barely there body.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Shizuo asked.

The words made a tense line of Izaya’s shoulders, but when he looked at Shizuo there was no judgement, no accusation, just the question and a soft, watery gaze. When Izaya closed his eyes it came with cold tears spilling over wet lashes and onto his cheeks. Who was he kidding, he was always going to cry. “I couldn’t,” He said, and then grimaced. He opened his eyes and looked out the window of Shizuo’s bedroom. “He threatened to hurt my parents if I told them. And he— he said…” Izaya swallowed around a shaky breath. “…He—

—says he’s taken pictures. The thought makes him so sick he’s worried he’ll throw up right there and then, but he doesn’t, somehow. They’ll ruin the rest of his life if they get out, he knows they will. And he’s so scared that his parents will see, that they’ll be angry or upset, so scared they’ll think he’s broken and disgusting, but he’s even more scared that they won’t care at all, that maybe no one will.

“That’s so fucking sick.” Shizuo’s growl was an abrupt jerk back to the reality Izaya hadn’t realised he’d left. When Izaya looked at him he saw his fists were white-knuckled and shaking, his shoulders pulled tight and angry. Angry, and Izaya tried really hard to tell himself Shizuo wasn’t angry because of him.

“I don’t know if he actually did, or if he just said that to scare me,” Izaya said, and it was true, he didn’t know, and he hoped to god he never found out. He didn’t remember him taking any, but he didn’t remember a lot of things. The feelings were there, in sharp and painful clarity, but he couldn’t be sure how much of his memory was just an unreliable fabrication of those feelings. It was such a long time ago, even if right now it felt like it wasn’t.

“Izaya,” Shizuo started. His body was still wound tight enough to snap, but his voice was soft, and sad, and almost pitying. “I’m so sorry no one—”

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” He hissed defensively, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. “I got myself into that situation and I was too weak to get myself out of it. I’m as much to blame as anyone.”

“You were a child,” Shizuo growled, obviously sickened, and finally his voice matched some of that tension running through the whole of his body. “You can’t seriously believe any of it was your fault. It was that sicko’s fault, and honestly it was your parents fault for not noticing anything.”

Izaya looked to him with a scowl and a tight chest. That wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t true either. “They did notice,” He said.

Shizuo made an active, obvious attempt at relaxing his fists, and it let Izaya see the blood on the inside of his palms, where his nails had been biting into his hand. “And they didn’t care?”

“They did,” Izaya said, “But I usually had some elaborate story, like I got into a fight, or fell over, or something.” Izaya thought it was funny — the kind of funny that made his bones ache and his veins burn — how things weren’t that different now. He hoped Shizuo wouldn’t read into that too much. “It worked for a while.”

“What happened?” Shizuo asked, but Izaya didn’t want to answer. Wasn’t this all over yet? Hadn’t he already cut open and bled out enough of himself for Shizuo to poke and prod at? No more, someone pleaded from inside his own head, but there was someone else pleading too. Keep going, they said. Don’t stop. See this through to the end of the story so you can finally be done with it.

“Um…” He started, brows pinched as his temple began to throb, as his chest seized too tight for him to properly breathe. That nauseous panic began to bubble up his throat again. He swallowed, and tried to send it back down. “One day he… he bashed my head against the desk harder than usual.” Voice wobbling, he looked at Shizuo and gestured to his face. “My face was all fucked up—” Kind of like it is now, he thought to himself. “—My mum wouldn’t let it go when she saw. Kept asking me for the truth, and I think I just kind of broke and gave it to her.”

He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said, or how he’d said it, but he remembered the aftermath, he remembered the hurt, and the chaos, tearing through his family before it tore him in two. “She was so upset,” Izaya said, pressing his lips together as tears sprang back to his eyes, as invisible fingers curled through the gaps in his ribs. “It was horrible, I felt horrible. Making her cry like that — it was worse than what he did, it was worse than anything I’d felt before.”

“Izaya…”

“Straight away I wished I could take it back,” Izaya said, jaw clenched, arms hugging his knees tight to his chest. “She was so upset, but my dad… He was angry.” Swallowing around the lump in his throat did nothing to strip the shaky thin from his voice, and it did nothing to stop the tears from rolling almost-silently down his cheeks as he spoke. “He was so fucking livid, and I just remember feeling like it was because of me,” His voice broke, “because I’d done something wrong.”

An erratic inhale pulled Izaya’s attention to Shizuo. He also had his knees pulled tight to his chest now, and the back of one fist pressed to his mouth. Izaya wouldn’t have noticed he was crying too if it hadn’t been for that hitching breath. Heart squeezing painfully hard in his chest, Izaya looked away. “They were—

—arguing, and yelling, and he can’t stand the thought that it’s because of him, so he runs upstairs to his room and locks the door. He’s never felt this feeling before, like he wants to tear himself apart. They hate you, he tells himself as he paces the room, tears wet on his face and breath coming too fast, I hate you. He wants to make it stop. He wants to disappear. He goes over to the corner of his room and pulls free the extension cord plugged into his lamp. He knows he’s not doing it properly as he ties it — to the railing in the top of his wardrobe, and then around his neck. The chair wobbles, the wood creaks, and he’s crying even as he steps off the edge and the chair topples to the groun—

It took a moment for Izaya to parse the sound as a sob that was not his own. Across from him, Shizuo was still crying, hand half covering his face in perhaps some misguided attempt at hiding his shame.

You’re not the one who needs to be ashamed, Izaya wanted to tell him. He laughed instead. “It didn’t work, obviously,” He said with a wry smile and a wet face. “The railing collapsed and I fell out of the closet. Fractured my wrist.” He touched the joint in his right arm softly. The bone still ached, sometimes, but he’d gotten very good at ignoring it. “My dad had to break down the door to get in, because I just laid there, staring at it, disappointed that I couldn’t even do a good job at killing myself.” He sniffed, and wiped his face with his hand. “They freaked out when they saw what I was doing, mum wouldn’t stop crying and apologising, but my dad just stood in the doorway with this catatonic look on his face, like he wasn’t even there. He just… stared at me like I was a ghost.” Swallowing thickly, he took a shaky breath. “That was the last time I saw him, until a month ago.”

He looked to Shizuo, who was already staring at him with glassy eyes and tears drying on his cheeks. “So there you go,” Izaya said with some forced cheerfulness, “There’s that stupid story.” Even if he was still nervous, still felt a little like he was choking, there was some relief to the story finally being over. He wouldn’t go as far to say that he was glad he’d told someone, or that he felt better, but maybe the memories seemed a little less poisonous now that he’d already touched every one of them in head. He wasn’t going to tell Shizuo that. “Are you okay?” Izaya asked him.

Shizuo huffed a startled laugh through his tears. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that,” He said, wiping his eyes and nose haphazardly with his hands. “Are you okay?”

Izaya shrugged.

Shizuo shifted over the bed, uncurling his arms from around his legs so he could shuffle forward and sit in a way that let him reach out across the blankets and carefully take Izaya’s hand. Izaya let him, not minding in the slightest bit as the blood from Shizuo’s nail-torn palm met his skin. “Izaya,” He started, with a sincerity that made it hard to keep looking him in the eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that—” Instinctively, Izaya tried to pull back as piercing vulnerability stiffened him over the bed, but Shizuo wouldn’t let him, grip tightening to keep Izaya where he was. “—and that doesn’t mean I feel sorry for you, or pity you, or anything stupid like that,” He said firmly, “It just means… I wish I’d been there to stop it, or help you, or… something, I don’t know.” Looking away, Shizuo frowned for a moment, thumb swiping gently back and forth across the side of Izaya’s hand.

Izaya tried to smirk. “Do you really think we would have gotten along any better if we’d met in junior school?” It was a strange thing to wonder, that if they’d crossed paths when they were younger, before either of them had learnt to hate themselves quite as much, maybe things would have turned out differently. “I probably would have still antagonised you.”

Shizuo smiled. “Yeah, you probably would have, but maybe I would have been more patient. Spending all of junior school with Shinra as my only friend was probably what made me so easy to piss off by the time I got to high school.”

Izaya laughed. “Mm, he does seem to have that effect on people.”

Shizuo’s smile gave way, his hand tightened ever so slightly around Izaya’s own. “Izaya,” He started seriously, in a way that made Izaya eye him nervously. “I know what I said before, about this not being about me taking my anger out on anyone, but…” Izaya watched the other boy’s jaw tighten with a scowl. “This guy, if you tell me who it is, I’ll kill him,” He said, gaze piercing and dark, “I’ll kill him for you, I swear.”

Izaya’s breath caught in his throat because he could tell Shizuo meant it, and, holding his breath, he took a moment to process that. Shizuo was ready to kill someone, for him, and Izaya knew the notion shouldn’t be making his heart swell and his stomach flutter, and his face goddamn flush, but it was. And it didn’t matter that Izaya would never let Shizuo become a murderer for him, just the fact that he was ready to — sincerely, without hesitation — made Izaya decide that maybe he was possibly, just a little bit glad he’d told Shizuo about this, and made him think that maybe he would be okay telling him about everything else too. Well, almost everything.

“That’s not going to be possible,” Izaya told him.

Shizuo’s brows drew down further. “Why?” He asked frustratedly.

“Because he’s already dead.” And he realised that maybe that was a good thing, because if he hadn’t been Izaya might have struggled to hold Shizuo back from doing something about it himself.

Izaya watched as Shizuo processed that information, and as a range of different emotions fluttered past his open, honest gaze. “Is he the one you…?”

Izaya swallowed. He contemplated, briefly, the idea of telling Shizuo that he was. Because maybe this would be easier, maybe Shizuo would be more sympathetic if he thought Izaya had killed someone who, in his mind, probably deserved it. But he’d gone this far to be honest, had sacrificed so much of himself to prove he trusted Shizuo, and so it wasn’t surprising that the idea of lying after all of that made him feel sick.

“No,” He said, eyes locked onto Shizuo’s so he could carefully pick out pieces from the other boy’s reaction.

“Oh,” Was all Shizuo said in response, and it was difficult for Izaya to get much of an idea on what he was feeling after all. There wasn’t obvious disgust, or horror, or even disappointment, but he could tell there was something — careful, calculating, like Shizuo was trying to put pieces together before asking anything himself. And Izaya would tell him, probably, but not right now, while he was still shaking, and choking, and in pain. So he spoke up before Shizuo had the chance.

“Can we take a break from the whole spilling my guts thing?” He asked. “I really need some painkillers.”

Shizuo didn’t argue, he just smiled softly. “Yeah, okay,” He said, releasing his hold on Izaya’s hand, but pausing before getting up off the bed. “Can I give you a hug?” He asked, with a shy cast to his red-swollen gaze that made Izaya’s chest swell.

“If you want?” He said wryly, the words falling as more of a question than an answer. At the edge of the bed, Shizuo shuffled closer, until he was pulling Izaya into himself, carefully, slowly, to avoid hurting his injured arm, but with no less desperation. Izaya melted into the embrace, arms around Shizuo’s shoulders, forehead dropping to rest in the crook of his neck. He heaved a sigh of relief so strong it almost brought him back to tears. He’d never felt so safe like this, so loved, which was ridiculous because Shizuo didn’t even—

“Thank you,” Shizuo murmured into Izaya’s hair, “For trusting me.”

There were a hundred things he could have said in response, but Izaya only puffed a shaky breath against Shizuo’s skin and closed his eyes. They lingered, with Shizuo’s fingers grazing gently down his back, and then the other boy pulled away with wet lashes and a smile, and made his careful way across the room. Only after he was gone did Izaya bring hands to his face and let himself cry once more — just for a moment, just for a few shaky exhales while all the shame and sadness, and even a little bit of relief washed over and through him. Everything still wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t better, but maybe it was on its way to being something else, and so Izaya took a deep breath and pulled the broken pieces of himself together, and waited for Shizuo to come back so he could continue to help hold them there.

Chapter Text

Shizuo paused at the top of the stairs. He needed a moment — to breathe air back into his lungs and scrub the drying tears from his face. There was a lot going on in his head, and a whole lot more wrapping vice-tight around his heart. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he let it sit there — twisting, twisting, like a python strangling a tree, until it started getting harder to breathe again and Shizuo swore he could taste blood in his mouth.

He felt terrible. Terrible that he’d pushed so hard and so far, that he’d all but forced Izaya’s traumatic past out of him like a near-empty tube of toothpaste. All this time, Shizuo had thought he’d been understanding, but he hadn’t. He thought he’d been patient, but he hadn’t been that either. Izaya had been dealing with more than what Shizuo thought any one person could — grief and loss and shame and fear and guilt — and only now was he beginning to realise how selfish he’d been. He still was, too, because even though a part of him felt guilty, a part of him also felt relieved. He was glad Izaya told him, glad he knew the truth, and more than that he was glad Izaya trusted him.

Yeah, Shizuo knew he felt terrible because he was, but there wasn’t much he knew how to do about that right now. He pulled himself together with another deep breath and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. At the bottom of them, he slowed to a stop. His mother was sat at the dining room table — shoulders tight, mouth a flat line, and eyes a soul-searching stare that shifted to Shizuo as he came into view.

Well, shit, he thought to himself, wondering how much she’d actually heard. A little uncertainly, a little dejectedly, he stepped off the staircase and made his way further into the room.

“We need to talk,” She murmured past the tense line of her mouth. Shizuo looked down at the empty seat across from her. His palms were beginning to sweat, but he ignored them in favour of pulling the chair out from the table so he could take a seat. The scrape of the wood across the floor was deafening, as was everything else — the ticking of the clock on the wall, the soft hum of the heater, the in and out of their shaky, uncertain breathing. “Shizuo, I—”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Shizuo blurted, desperate to not have his mother ask him that question. He couldn’t look at her, too afraid to see the doubt that might be marring her features, but a gentle “I know”, was what she murmured from across the table. Shizuo’s fists clenched in his lap.

“Hey,” His mother said. Steeling himself, Shizuo looked up at her. “I know,” She said again, and Shizuo could tell that she believed him. He let his breath go. “You’re a good person, Shizuo. I know you just want to help him.”

His eyes were burning again. He blinked hard but it only sent a tear rolling down one of his cheeks. “I—…”

And there it was again — that feeling, those words, the ones that kept choking him, threatening to pour out without his consent.

“I think—”

No, he didn’t think — he knew, with painful, heart-aching certainty. “I—”

His mother waited patiently across from him. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I love him,” He said — half a gruff mumble, half a broken whisper. The confession hung awkwardly in the air, or maybe it was just him that felt that way because when he looked up from the table to his mother across from him, she was smiling softly, eyes warm.

“Then you’ll be okay,” She said. Shizuo didn’t know what that meant, because if anything it kind of felt like the opposite. But he trusted her, and so he took another deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “The first aid kit is on the sink,” She told him, gesturing with a nod of her head to the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Shizuo took that as permission to leave and slowly stood from the table. He was halfway across the room when she spoke again.

“And Shizuo?” She called out.

Stopping where he was, Shizuo looked back. “Yeah?”

“Sometimes it’s okay if you need to close the door.” She smiled softly, and Shizuo found himself smiling too, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Yeah, thanks,” He said, and turned so he could continue on to the kitchen and pull the first aid kit his mum had already gotten down from the overhead cupboard into his arms. Holding it closely, he took a breath. She was right, everything would be okay. But even as he said it to himself, it felt like a lie. Shizuo couldn’t shirk this sinking feeling that kept tugging down the excited, hopeful one.

His mum had already left the room by the time he was passing it to go back upstairs. Izaya was still sat on the bed, legs crossed, fingers fiddling with the bandage he’d re-wound around his wrist. He looked up as Shizuo entered the room, eyes a little red and swollen, bruised and bandaged and still so fucking beautiful Shizuo’s breath kept catching in his chest. He meant it. He was in love — wholeheartedly, without restraint. Izaya was incredible. Smart and funny and entirely fucked in the head; dangerous and disturbed and full of the same self loathing and shame Shizuo had spent a life choking on himself. Maybe he was a little crazy, and maybe he was so complicated Shizuo would never really figure him out, but he couldn’t for the life of him imagine ever not loving him for all of it. And to think that there was a time in the not too distant past where he hadn’t, made Shizuo feel like he might as well have been an entirely different person.

“Shizu-chan?” Izaya asked uncertainly from the bed, and Shizuo realised he’d been stood staring with the plastic box in his hands for longer than what might have been normal.

“Sorry,” He said, moving forward to take a seat on the bed and place the box on the ground beside it. He opened it up and rifled through it, until he found a small bottle of painkillers at the bottom. He thought twice about passing the bottle straight to Izaya and instead opened it himself to pour two small tablets into his palm. Izaya took them from his hand without complaining, even if his brows were pinched and his “Thanks” was strained. He only left the bed for the time it took him to pull a water bottle free from his school bag and swallow the tablets in his hand. Shizuo could tell just from the way he moved across the room and sat back down on the bed that he was in a lot of pain; and he could tell from the way his shoulders were slumped and his eyes drooping that he was exhausted. “Can I re-bandage your arms?” Shizuo asked him. Izaya’s tired gaze flicked to him, and then down to the dirty bandages already starting to come loose again on both his arms. He nodded.

Shizuo shuffled a little closer on the bed, holding his hand out for Izaya’s wrist. Izaya gave it to him — even if it was with some hesitation — and as gently as he could, Shizuo unwound the bandage and let it fall to the ground. His eyes lingered on the cuts — angry, inflamed. Izaya had said he’d done it in the school bathroom and Shizuo realised that was what he must have been doing when he found him. He thought about it — Izaya alone, crying, shaking, hurting so much he had to do this to himself just to feel okay about it. What if Shizuo hadn’t decided to follow him and he’d kept going? What if he’d cut deeper than he meant to? Shizuo tried to blink himself back into reality and away from the thoughts in his head. Izaya didn’t flinch or grimace as Shizuo cleaned his cuts and re-bandaged his arm. He didn’t speak either. There was still so much Shizuo wanted to know, but he was scared to keep asking — for more than one reason.

He was a little surprised Izaya let him reach for his other arm, even if this time it was with a tense jaw and a preemptively pained grimace. Shizuo was more careful with this one — gentle as he unwound the bandage and let it fall. Some blood had soaked through the gauze, but Shizuo found — as he carefully peeled it away — that the wound looked just as horrific as when he’d first seen it and not any more so. Izaya was looking away from it, like he couldn’t stand the sight. “How did this happen?” Shizuo asked quietly, and without the condescending ‘actually’ he’d been initially tempted to use.

Izaya took a breath and cleared his throat before speaking. “Got hit with a baseball bat wrapped in some barbed wire.”

It was a good thing Izaya wasn’t looking at him because Shizuo couldn’t close his gaping mouth. It sounded like something straight out of an awful horror movie, and the thought of Izaya getting caught up in that was nauseating. “Who?” He asked with a level of calm that surprised even himself. He was still in shock. “Was it that guy—”

“No,” Izaya cut him off. “Just some thug.”

Again, Shizuo thought to himself, Izaya was only answering things in a way that forced him to ask more questions. Was he jumped by someone on the street? A gang? Shizuo knew there was a lot of that stuff going on at the moment in Ikebukuro, but Izaya’s case sounded a little extreme. He hated that he thought there was more of a chance Izaya was involved in gang activity than there was he’d been attacked randomly, but it was true. Even so, he kept himself from speaking as he carefully cleaned the edges of Izaya’s wound and pressed new gauze over it, glancing every so often at the other boy’s tense jaw and closed eyes. He knew he should have been dragging Izaya to the hospital to get this taken care of properly, but he also had a feeling that the other boy would end up doing more damage to himself by fighting Shizuo tooth and nail the whole damn way.

Only when Shizuo had finished bandaging his shoulder did he let the other boy’s arm go and reach out to touch his cheek instead. “Izaya,” He called gently. Izaya turned to him but his brows were pinched as if caught in some painful memory, and his face was pale as shizuo searched it for answers. The urge to kiss away the frown twisting his lips was there, but in the end he dropped his hand and pulled away a bit, giving him some space. Izaya looked relieved, and Shizuo didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that.

He eyed the ring of bruises around the other boy’s neck, and then let his gaze drift down to the scabbed over cuts on the back of his hands. “How did you do this?” He asked gently, fingers coming out to briefly and softly graze the back of Izaya’s knuckles.

Izaya clenched his fist. “Punched a mirror,” He answered with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Shizuo smirked wryly. “I thought I was the one who liked punching things.”

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me then.”

Shizuo’s smile became a little more genuine at that. He remembered the last time Izaya had said that; when it had been Shizuo’s knuckles torn and bleeding, and Izaya trying to comfort him. His lips curled back down and he steeled himself with a breath. “I know you’ve already said a lot, more that what you should have to, but can you tell me more about this,” He said, gesturing to Izaya’s bandaged shoulder, “And that kid, why he said—” Shizuo cut himself off and took a shaky breath. “If you’re... caught up in something, I can help you, I can…”

Izaya was shaking his head, brows furrowed, lips turned down. “I know you want to,” He said, “But I’m trying to protect you, it’s not safe.”

Shizuo couldn’t help the scoff that slipped past his lips anymore than he could the offended edge to his voice. “You seriously think I can’t handle myself? Were you not looking when I knocked that kid out with literally one punch—”

“This isn’t about kids fighting, and silly juvenile matters!” Izaya interrupted a little desperately. “This is serious stuff, it’s..” He trailed off, looking a little lost for words.

“It’s what…?” Shizuo asked uncertainly. What could he possibly be involved in that was this serious, that was making him frown like he was in pain? That was making him rub his hands over his face and sigh like he was thirty years older than what he actually was? Shizuo was starting to get scared again, but he tried not to let it show. “I know maybe you’re scared about how I’ll react, but I already said there’s nothing you can tell me that will freak me out, and I promise I won’t do anything crazy if you don’t want me to.”

He let Izaya take his time — rubbing his swollen eyes, taking deep breaths, and flitting his gaze around the room. After the next breath he furrowed his brows and began nodding his head resolutely. “Okay,” He said with a resigned sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Shizuo repeated him, waiting patiently as the other boy got himself together for whatever horrific tale he was about to tell next.

“I…” Izaya cleared his throat and swallowed. “I work for some… unsavoury people—”

“I didn’t know you had a job,” Shizuo interrupted with a confused frown.

“Shut up,” Izaya snapped calmly, “No interruptions until the end.”

“Sorry,” Shizuo mumbled sheepishly, keeping his lips pressed together and his questions running laps in his head. Izaya continued.

“I do freelance information gathering.” Shizuo didn’t really know what that was, but he was too scared to open his mouth and ask. Thankfully, Izaya must have recognised whatever look was on his face, because he explained it to him freely. “I find things out for people, sometimes I find people for people, and then I sell the information to them. Mostly to the Yakuza.”

Shizuo knew he’d said nothing would freak him out, but that wasn't exactly true. He’d more meant, ‘nothing would freak him out so much he’d let Izaya know he was freaked out’, but he was starting to realise that controlling his body's impulse reactions was a complicated skill he had little experience honing. He didn’t realise his eyes had widened until they already were. He corrected himself, but Izaya must have already noticed because when he spoke again he was looking away from Shizuo and out towards the side of the room.

“It was how I kept me and my sisters alive while my mum was in the hospital, how I kept paying for the medical bills building up,” He said with a defensive edge to his voice. Shizuo wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to defend himself, that Shizuo was shocked, but he wasn’t judging him, but he’d been told to keep his mouth shut so that’s what he did. “After my dad came back, I stopped being able to sleep. I started neglecting my work and avoiding calls from my employers. Shinra gave me some pills to help, but I knew that if I wanted more I’d have to get them my own way. So I did.” He said everything to the wall, fingers fiddling with the edge of his school shorts. “That kid, Kuza,” Izaya said with a grimace, “Was the intermediary. Unfortunately we had more than one mutual connection.”

Shizuo listened intently, hands gripping each of his calves to keep them from turning into fists.

“He tried to blackmail me into helping him out on a job. He said he’d tell the people I worked for in the Yakuza about the drugs.” Izaya took a breath, slow and shaky. “At the time I was scared what would happen, so I decided it would be easier to just go along with it.” Izaya’s brows were furrowed deeply now. Shizuo watched him nervously pick at the scabs on the back of his hand. “Obviously it was a mistake,” He said with some self-directed aggression, “I went in without researching as much as I should have; I was careless. So was Kuza. We got caught because of him and I had to fight my way out. I had to—”

Izaya’s face twisted on a pained grimace, his breath left him in a shudder of visible despair. “I killed someone…” The words weren’t much more than a haunted whisper, but Shizuo heard them like a scream.

Not for the first time, he didn’t know what to say. Had this really only happened last night? How? How had they only been together a few days ago, laughing and smiling and spending time with their friends, only for this to all of a sudden be their cruel reality: Izaya looking broken, inside and out, and Shizuo feeling absolutely helpless to do anything about it.

He listened to the echo of the other boy’s confession in his head. Again; again. On the fourth time it wasn’t quite as shocking, and on the fifth Shizuo took a deep, steadying breath. “Would you be dead?” He asked. “If you hadn’t of killed him?”

Izaya looked at him strangely. Another one of those pained expressions passed over his face as he re-lived a moment that was obviously disturbing. He looked down and let a breath shudder from his chest. “Yeah,” He said, with a level of certainty that made Shizuo’s stomach sink.

“Then you shouldn’t regret it,” He said firmly.

Izaya looked shocked, and possibly a little confused. “Shizuo, I killed someone,” He repeated, this time with more conviction. “I took a knife and I— I was literally covered in his blood! I watched him drown in it. How can you say I shouldn’t regret that?” He asked desperately, “How can you not think I’m the worst fucking excuse for a human in the world?”

“Because life is complicated,” Shizuo responded, with an edge to his voice that teetered on each side of an angry growl and a tearful choke. “People are complicated. Just ‘cause you did a bad thing doesn’t make you a bad person.”

It doesn’t mean I can’t love you.

Shizuo didn’t mention that the fact this was haunting him so much said a lot about the kind of person he really was, not when Izaya was shaking his head like he wasn’t going to let himself believe it.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” He said, “I shouldn’t have—” A sharp puff of air somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I should have just let him cut my face in half with that axe. Everything would be a whole lot fucking easier right now, wouldn’t it?”

Horrified and angry, Shizuo finally let his hands clench into fists. He felt sick, he felt sick. Izaya’s words made a tangled mess of his stomach and his chest. “For you,” He said with a growl, teeth set, shoulders tight. “It would be easier for you, because you’d be gone. How can you say something so fucking selfish?”

Izaya didn’t answer. Head tipped down so Shizuo couldn’t see his face, he went quiet. Shizuo took the moment to steady his breathing and reel himself back. Izaya stared into his open palms resting on his legs. “You don’t know what it’s like,” He said — distracted and hazy. “I see it all the time — again, and again. I’ll never escape it. I’ll never be free.”

Shizuo let his breath shudder from his chest. He didn’t know what to say to that either, and maybe that was because on some level he knew he was being selfish too; he’d rather Izaya be here and suffer than not be here at all.

“Does anyone else know?” Shizuo suddenly thought to ask. The question pulled Izaya from his vacant, ghostly stare and made him frown.

“Kuza, obviously,” He said. “The Yakuza, and—” Izaya stumbled over a pause, a strange look on his face before shaking his head until it was gone. “A-and that’s all. For now.”

Shizuo nodded slowly. “Is that where you went today? To the… Yakuza people?” He asked, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Izaya was involved in such a thing.

Izaya nodded. “I ran into Kuza on my way back. We… got into a fight,” He said. “He—” Again, Izaya swallowed his words uncertainly, brows furrowed, lips a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Izaya,” Shizuo pressed, unable to leave it be.

Izaya looked to him, eyes guarded and hesitant. “He… made it sound like he knew — about the stuff from my childhood, and some other things,” He said vaguely. “When we were fighting. I guess that’s why I lost control a bit.”

Shizuo remembered the state of the other boy’s face. He didn’t feel bad for him, but he was still surprised Izaya had been the one to do it. “How would he know?”

A grimace curling his lips, Izaya shook his head like he was trying to shake the thoughts away too. “I don’t know. Maybe I was just confused. A lot of stuff right now doesn’t make any sense.”

There was a look in his eyes that told Shizuo there was more he hadn’t said, that there was another part to the story, and if he wasn’t willing to share it because it was worse than all the others, Shizuo was quite honestly too afraid to ask.

A silence fell with the end of the conversation. The whole story was more complicated than any movie he’d seen, or any book he’d read. He didn’t know how any of this could be true for one sixteen year old high school boy. He didn’t know how Izaya hadn't checked himself into a mental institution yet. He reached forward again for the other boy’s hand. Izaya let him take it.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever again,” He said, squeezing the other boy’s hand just enough to let him know he was serious. “I’m serious,” He added on anyway, because Izaya was still looking at him like he didn’t believe him. “I’ll fight off any gangs, or yakuza, or military squads. I’ll break you out of jail if I have to.”

Izaya gave him a tired laugh, the edge of his lips quirking up. It only lasted a moment before they were falling back again. “I don’t get it,” He said, brows furrowed.

“What?” Shizuo asked.

“How you still—” Izaya let the air puff from his lungs. “…How you don’t hate me. After everything.”

Shizuo shrugged lightly, tried to give the other boy a smile. The truth was, it was easy, and Shizuo tried not to think about how that quite possibly made him a terrible person. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do."

“Mm,” Izaya hummed, “Maybe not.”

Finally, some of the tension left his shoulders in a sigh. Slumped over, he looked more tired and worn than Shizuo had ever seen him before. “You should rest,” Shizuo told him.

Izaya gave him a wry smirk. “Do I really look that bad?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Shizuo said, but they both huffed a small laugh and the sound of it made Shizuo feel a little bit better.

“Will you stay?” Izaya asked him.

“If you want me to.”

“I do,” Izaya said immediately.

Shizuo smiled softly. “Okay.”

They both lied back along the bed. Izaya twisted onto his uninjured shoulder and rested his head against Shizuo’s own, arm draped across his stomach. Shizuo wrapped an arm around Izaya’s waist and gently stroked his back. Sagging against him, the other boy sighed deeply before tilting his head up until their eyes met. With his free hand, he reached up to press a gentle thumb against the split in Shizuo’s lip. “I’m sorry,” He whispered softly. Shizuo just smiled under the pressure of the other boy’s touch, feeling the cut pull at his skin.

“It’s okay,” He said, “I’m sure I’ve done worse to you at some point.”

“Probably.” Izaya’s lips curled, and his thumb continued to stroke the curl of Shizuo’s lower lip. Even covered in bruises, Izaya looked beautiful. The purple and red marring parts of his skin only brought out the smooth porcelain making up the rest of it. Even tired, his eyes were still bright, his fingers were still steady where they were ghosting the edge of Shizuo’s lips, soft and unresisting to his touch. Shizuo’s gaze was caught at the weight of the other boy’s half lidded eyes, and Izaya’s was caught somewhere on Shizuo’s face below that. There was a pause, a breath; another pause, another breath, and Shizuo held himself very still and quiet as Izaya leant up on his elbow to press their lips together. It was achingly gentle and slow, with both their lips still tender, and swollen, and scabbed-over from a too-violent touch.

This can’t be right…

It was perfect. Hand steadying the back of Izaya’s neck, Shizuo tried to pour all the things he felt but couldn’t say into the slide of their lips. Izaya pulled back first, lips a little red and slick. Shizuo brushed his hand through the hair on the back of his neck. This couldn’t be good for him, he thought briefly. Surely it wasn’t healthy to be swimming in an emotion this intense and all-consuming. Ducking his head to the feeling, Shizuo took a strangled breath that allowed for some measure of calm to fall over him, that kept the words threatening the part of his lips safe inside his chest. Izaya went back to resting his head on Shizuo’s shoulder and Shizuo went back to stroking a hand down his clothed back. Some minutes passed before he decided to speak again. “Izaya,” He called gently. Izaya hummed without moving or opening his eyes. With the fingers Shizuo had been using to run down his back he drew a line across the top of it, tracing the angry scar he knew sat under the weight of the other boy’s clothes. “Who did this?”

Immediately, Izaya stiffened; Shizuo could feel it in every line of the other’s body touching against his own. Already he regretted asking the question, because he knew that whatever came out of the other boy’s mouth next was going to be a lie.

“No one important,” Izaya said, trying to sound casual where he was still tucked into Shizuo’s shoulder, eyes half lidded and hand across his stomach. “It was just a stupid fight.”

Shizuo wasn’t going to bother pressing him. He just filed the response away somewhere in the back of his head and let Izaya think that was the end of it. “Okay,” He said gently. Izaya eventually relaxed again, and when Shizuo could tell he was asleep by the deep rise and fall of his chest, he finally closed his eyes and let himself drift off too.

Chapter Text

Vague, half-formed images shifted uncomfortably through Izaya’s awareness. Blood — drops of it on a desk, on his hands, in his mouth. Someone holding him down, choking him, tugging at his clothes, their face a shifting blur, never settling on any one person but every one of them familiar all the same. And then — hands, gentle, touching his face, guiding him to soft lips, and a feeling of comfort and pleasure shifting into something stomach-twistingly bad.

Body wound tight, breath too fast, he jerked himself from sleep with a startled gasp and an immediate upright jolt of his body. Something was ringing frighteningly loud, and it took a moment — eyes darting fearfully around the room — for him to correlate the sound with the equally confusing sensation of buzzing against his leg. His phone was ringing, he realised, and Shizuo was coming to life beside him, roused from sleep by Izaya’s violently abrupt awakening.

Heart still beating too hard, he fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Shirou’s name lit up the display and Izaya cringed at the awful feeling of every organ inside of him constricting. Immediately, he silenced the call, but even after ending the onslaught of unfamiliar sound, there was still the barrage of unanswered messages. Izaya scrolled through them quickly, and with apprehension. Rubbing a miserable hand over his face, he did his best to stifle a whimper.

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo asked beside him, voice rough with sleep, but gaze clear and concerned.

Izaya sighed through his nose. “I have to go home.” It was the very last thing he wanted right now, the thought of making his way back to that house, in the cold, in the dark, and dealing with whatever Shirou so desperately needed him back home for was painful, and possibly a little frightening. He was sure Shizuo could see that written all over his face.

“Okay,” The other boy said, “I’ll walk you home.”

Izaya shook his head; never mind the logistical stupidity, it was a bad idea in more ways than one. Because even though he’d cut open, spread out, and laid bare every vulnerable piece of himself today, and even though it had gone better than he’d thought it would, better than he thought he deserved — that being something other than Shizuo knocking him out and tossing him in a dumpster to rot with the rest of the world’s garbage — he wasn’t ready for this. And he never would be. Everything with Shirou, he was taking to his grave, where it could rot with him too. “You don’t have to—”

“But I am.” Shizuo’s words left no room for argument, and Izaya didn’t feel like arguing anyway, not anymore. He’d just force Shizuo to leave him at the fence, or by the door, and hope to god Shirou didn’t come bursting out the moment they stepped onto the street. Sighing deeply, Izaya shuffled his way to the edge of the bed. Shizuo had already stood and was sifting through a pile of clothes on the floor until he found a jumper to pull over his head. Izaya eyed the one still left on the bed and dragged it closer to him. Getting it on was uncomfortable — the pain in his arm was slightly better, but certainly still there. Without asking, Shizuo came to his side and began rolling the cuffs of the sleeves up to his wrists — with hands so gentle Izaya found it hard to imagine those same hands breaking concrete and bone.

He also slung Izaya’s school bag over his shoulder without him having to ask, and held his hand as they descended the stairs — only letting go for the time it took Izaya to struggle his shoes onto his feet, and then the other boy’s fingers were back to being wrapped around his own, leading him out of the house, down the path, and onto the street.

Izaya tried to keep his heart rate in check, but it was easier said than done. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky, but he reminded himself that’s all this was — luck, and it was going to run out sooner or later.

It was getting colder. Izaya could feel an icy, arctic edge to the breeze biting his bare legs that made his shoulders tense and his nose wrinkle. He shifted a little closer to Shizuo as they walked, until the hand around his own tightened briefly. Shizuo was being very quiet. If it wasn’t for the warmth of his hand and the sound of his steps Izaya could imagine him not being there at all. He tried not to let it worry him, he was sure the other boy had plenty to think about after all. But the closer they got to his house, the more a distinctly bad feeling began to clutch at his lungs and wind through his stomach, and he was starting to think it had nothing to do with Shizuo’s silence beside him. Without realising it, his grip on Shizuo’s hand tightened and his breathing began to shudder unevenly from his chest. As they rounded the last corner and stepped onto his street, Izaya realised why.

There were two cars parked out the front of his house and a handful of people stood together on the lawn. One of the cars had lights flashing in blue and red. Izaya stopped moving and breathing as one. It took the jerk of their joined hands for Shizuo to realise what was happening. “What’s wro—” Shizuo looked from Izaya with his feet planted defiantly on the sidewalk to the direction of his house. He saw the blue and red lights from the police car reflecting off the cold smog in the air like a small-scale aurora borealis, and finally seemed to understand. “Oh,” He said. Izaya barely heard him. Blood beginning to pound in his ears, he let go of Shizuo’s hand and tried to pull back, but the other boy’s grip was still tight, and tightening further now that he knew Izaya was trying to escape.

“Stop—“ They both said at the same time, and Shizuo didn’t let go but his grip and his gaze both softened. Izaya didn’t stop pulling, but his strength faltered as Shizuo took a step so they were close. “You can’t keep running forever,” He told him, eyes pleading and urgent. Izaya wanted to say ‘watch me’. He wanted to run so far and so fast all of this disappeared behind him like frost in spring; he wanted to be someone else, even if that meant never stopping to catch his breath.

But he wanted Shizuo too, and he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to have one without giving up the other. He’d already established that he wasn’t willing to give up this, and so that left him with a whole lot of nowhere to run and nothing to do. He took a deep breath, but it got caught in his throat halfway down his chest. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. Surely nothing could be worse than what he’d already dealt with so far. “Okay,” He said quietly, and then again, with more conviction. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Shizuo repeated him, and with a soft breath, softened his grip on Izaya’s hand further too, until he was just holding it again. It still took him tugging gently for izaya to start moving, but he didn’t try to stop him, even if his steps were a little slower and smaller than usual.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the small fence surrounding his house that the people in front of it noticed his arrival. They all looked to him: two uniformed officers, a middle aged lady in a suit, and, worst of all, his father. Izaya held his head high as he approached them — even if it was covered in bruises, even if he was still holding Shizuo’s hand too.

“Izaya-san,” The lady stepped forward to greet him, before the furrow-browed men in police uniforms, or his father, could. For that, at least, he was grateful. She was smiling kindly, dark hair pinned back loosely, a black bag tucked under her arm. Her eyes lingered on the bruises and cuts marring his face and his throat — despite her carefully-schooled expression and professional politeness, he could still tell. “Ah, is this a friend from school…?” She ventured carefully, eyeing Shizuo beside him with a subtle criticalness, gaze flicking down to their clasped hands — that he could tell too. He fought the urge to let go now realising that Shirou was probably watching them too. He had a feeling that would say more than simply holding on.

“Heiwajima Shizuo,” Shizuo mumbled curtly beside him. Izaya didn’t have to look at him to know he was frowning at this lady with that same criticalness, only without the subtlety.

“Nice to meet you both,” The lady said when it became obvious Shizuo was going to say nothing else. “My name is Hanakawa Aiko from Ikebukuro Social Services. I was wondering if I might be able to have a chat with you inside, Izaya-san.“

Ah, Izaya thought to himself. So that’s what’s happening. Despite the polite wording and gentle tone, he had a feeling that in reality she wasn’t giving him a choice. Why else would there be police standing at her back, hands on their belts like they were getting ready to beat him the moment he said no or tried to make a run for it. What he didn’t know yet was whether they were here because of what happened at school today, or because of what happened at the warehouse — or perhaps something else entirely. Finally Izaya let his gaze drift to Shirou, but the man was difficult to read with his arms crossed and his shoulders tight, and his fingers twisting nervously the ring on his right hand. Even more difficult to read was the look he shot at him from across the front lawn. Perhaps he was worried their neighbours had finally had enough of them yelling at each other and worked up the sense to call someone about it. For some reason the thought of that made him feel worse and not better. Izaya averted his gaze and mustered every ounce of his remaining energy to fashion a new mask. He smiled at the social worker. “Of course, I’d be happy to,” He said brightly.

Turning to Shizuo, he finally loosened his grip on his hand. “Thanks for walking me home, Shizu-chan,” He said with the mask still in place, but the other boy was staring right through it like he always did. He was frowning, concerned, with his gaze flicking between each of Izaya’s unannounced guests.

“I’ll message you later,” He said. Izaya hummed and tried very hard to pretend no one was watching when Shizuo hugged him goodbye. At least he knew better than to try and kiss him right now. He hugged back without lingering, and after accepting his bag from the other boy’s shoulder, waved him off without looking back to see him disappear down the street. It was hard, but thinking about it too much was going to make everything harder.

Shirou was looking at him strangely when he accidentally caught his gaze, but the other man severed it immediately and turned to walk inside the house. Izaya followed after him, and the social worker, along with the two officers, followed his lead. It was one of the most uncomfortable situations he’d ever been in — taking his shoes off and taking a seat at his dining room table with a group of unwelcome guests that had every scrap of their attention fixed on him. Hanakawa-san, and the police officers who hadn't introduced themselves were sat on one side of the table, and he and Shirou were sat on the other. The officers’ arms were folded menacingly, and the social worker was busy pulling a think binder free from her bag before placing it dramatically on the table. What the hell was this? An interview? An interrogation? A psychological evaluation? Izaya wondered with a sinking feeling if perhaps it was all three, and if his answers were going to determine whether or not he might be dragged out of this place in handcuffs or a straightjacket.

The click of the social worker’s pen echoed in the cold and quiet room, and Izaya was glad he was still wearing Shizuo’s jumper for more than one reason. “Izaya-san,” She started simply, tapping the tip of her pen against an empty, lined page, “I understand you’ve had a very troubling past few months. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate that,” He said, trying his best to sound sincere. If his smile seemed a little more thin than usual, well, it couldn’t be helped; and neither could the way he bounced his crossed leg restlessly under the table.

“I’ve spoken to your aunt and been told your sisters will be staying with her indefinitely,” She continued. Izaya looked to his father beside him, trying to gauge his response, but the other man’s features were deceptively blank. His arms were crossed over his chest, but they were relaxed enough to not appear defensive. A polite smile fell across his face.

“They need support because of their age, and I’m unable to take as much time off work now,” He explained. “They’re also much more familiar with my sister in-law and I believe that’s important for them at the moment.”

The social worker nodded and scribbled something down in her book. Shirou turned and caught his gaze, Izaya held it, for one second, for two, but he wasn’t sure what he was even looking for, so he severed it to face the lady in front of him again.

“I’m here to conduct a formal evaluation of your wellbeing and living arrangements,” She said. “I have some concerns that what has been going on in your personal life has come to affect your attendance at school and your interactions with your peers.”

Oh really? Izaya thought to himself with a bite. Already, his mask was beginning to slip. He couldn’t sit here and listen to this lady prattle on like she had any idea what was going on in his life and what it was doing to him. Who the fuck cared anyway? So what if his attendance was down? His grades were still fine. So what if he’d punched some rich asshole in the face? It probably needed to happen sooner or later. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it is,” She said firmly, no trace of a smile on her face now. “You seem intelligent to me, Izaya-san. I imagine you understand the serious nature of what happened at your school today. The parents of the young boy you hit are ready to press charges, the school is ready to expel you, and the only thing keeping that from happening is me, and my sympathy for your extenuating circumstances.”

Her mask had slipped too, and so with a breath of relief Izaya abandoned his for something that came to him a little more naturally. He maintained her heavy, analytical eye contact defiantly, unwilling to show any pieces of himself she might be able to jot down in her sad little notebook. Sympathy? He thought to himself with a scoff. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, not even a little bit. “Of course,” He said, politely still, but with an edge to his voice he was hoping she’d see in his smile too, “Your sympathy is appreciated.” Not!

“Why don’t we start with you telling me what happened at school today.” She suggested with a tilt of her pen in his direction.

Izaya laughed a little. “Is that really necessary? I’m sure you’ve already heard multiple recounts after all. Surely that’s enough for someone like yourself to build a story.”

The social worker didn’t shift. She smiled with lips a little too thin and tapped her pen against the table. “I’d like to hear it from your perspective.”

“Hm, very well then,” He said with a casual amusement he didn’t feel, “What’s that saying again? ‘Boys will be boys’? Sports tend to get a little rough sometimes, don’t they?”

Hanakawa didn’t seem amused either, and the police officers flanking her sides were scowling darkly. “Do you think this is funny, boy?” One of them cut in. “Don’t waste our time by joking around here. That boy you hit is in the hospital with a fractured nose and a dislocated jaw because of you.”

Izaya hated that he was mildly impressed with himself for managing to do such damage while being so injured himself. He didn’t turn to look at his father sat beside him, but Izaya could feel his attention like a brand. He wondered if Shirou was impressed too, or if perhaps he was only disappointed. Either way, it didn’t matter. He watched the social worker placate the officer beside her and took the lead in the conversation once more. “Even when they get rough, sports don’t usually involve violence to this degree,” She told him.

Izaya shrugged with an exasperated huff. “What can I say? He pushed me first, and after a troublesome day I lost my temper a bit.”

“Your classmates said you pinned him to the ground and beat him until he was bleeding and begging for you to stop.” The words were said with a stern voice and an empty stare. That was how Izaya felt too — empty. He wouldn’t let them see the way his fists were clenching as hard as his stomach; he wouldn’t let them see how sick this was making him feel.

“Ah, so you do know all the grisly details then,” He fired back with a bite. “Well why don’t we stop wasting time and get to the part where you start asking me all the things you really want to know.”

The social worker stared at him with that awful, scrutinising gaze. She didn’t seem affected by the fire in his glare or his tone. When she ducked her head it was only to write something quickly across the no-longer blank page in front of her. Izaya desperately wanted to know what it was, but he couldn’t see anything from here, and so he just continued to glare instead, ignoring the feeling of his father’s gaze lingering on his side. “I want to know everything, Izaya-kun. It’s important I do before I make a decision on what to do with you.”

What to do with him… Like he was some kind of stray dog that’d peed on the carpet and now needed a new home. He was so done with this… this… condescending drivel. He wanted out of this home, his school; maybe the best thing he could do was get himself expelled, and relocated, that way it would be easier for him to just run away and get his own place. There was nothing keeping him from doing that, not now that his sisters weren’t here.

“Where do you go, Izaya-kun? When you skip school,” She asked suddenly, snapping Izaya out of his thoughts.

“Oh, you know,” He said with false chipper, “Here and there. Mostly the Yakuza.” He felt Shirou stiffen beside him, and when he tilted his head he found the other man eyeing him warily. Izaya met his needless concern with a raised brow and turned back to face the others. No one seemed to be taking him very seriously anymore. The social worker was shaking her head and continuing to write, the police officers were shooting him unimpressed glares — Izaya met those with a smile and a wink.

“And while you’re out ‘here and there’,” She jibed with a flat tone, “Is getting into fights something of a hobby for you?”

“Not particularly,” He breezed.

“So that’s just a recent development then.”

“Like I told you,” Izaya said, smile starting to feel a little stiff on his face, “I lost my temper. It was a one-time thing.”

Still with her attention seemingly fixed on the pages of her folder, Hanakawa continued. “I only ask because, considering how one-sided this altercation sounded, I doubt you received those bruises from the other party,” She said, lazily gesturing with her pen to Izaya’s discoloured face and throat. “I’ve also been told you’ve been showing up at school with different injuries varying in severity over the last few weeks.”

Izaya swallowed, took a slightly deeper than usual breath, and tried to smile a little more genuinely, feeling uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going, uncomfortable with Shirou’s wire-stiff presence beside him. “I tend to be a little clumsy.”

Finally, the social worker looked up. He wasn’t sure if it was what he’d said, or the way he’d said it that garnered the full force of her attention, but it was here now. She looked at him with a surprising amount of intensity, and her voice was disparagingly flat when she said, “Somehow, I seriously doubt that.” Izaya had a feeling she was going to doubt everything he said, and so he made a decision that, from here on, he was going to say very little. None of this mattered anyway; he was sure she’d already made a decision on ‘what to do with him’ the moment they’d sat down at the table, or perhaps even before that. “The school nurse also said that you visited earlier today with injuries to your arms. One of them serious enough to warrant her suggest you visit the hospital.” She said offhandedly, and Izaya was getting very frustrated at the thought that people were so easily sharing private information about him to this annoying lady. “The other, you apparently wouldn’t let her see. Would you mind taking off your jumper and showing me these wounds?”

“Yes,” Izaya answered immediately. He would have scoffed if his jaw weren’t currently clenched as tight as it was. It was all he could do to grit words out from between his pressed teeth. “Yes, I would mind that very much.”

She didn’t linger over the matter or press any further, only scraped more nonsense with her pen into her book. Izaya wanted to pick it up and throw it at her.

“I’ve also been told that there’s someone at school you’ve been getting into a lot of fights with over the last year. ‘Always causing chaos’, one of your teachers had put it.” She looked up from her page again to eye him curiously. “I must say I was surprised to find he was the one introducing himself to me after walking you home,” She said.

“Yes, well,” He fought the urge to shift uncomfortably and instead let his gaze roll lazily across the room. “Me and Shizu-chan are on good terms now so there’s no need to worry about that.”

“Mm, I can see that,” She hummed thoughtfully. Izaya ignored it. “And when did you two stop being on bad terms?”

“Is that really relevant?” He asked with a glare. He didn’t like the direction this was going. He didn’t want to talk about Shizu-chan, especially not with Shirou in the same room.

“Yes, I’d say it is,” Hanakawa said.

Izaya tried to act disinterested. “Perhaps the last month or so,” He answered, crossing his arms a little tighter in front of himself. What was she thinking? Was she trying to rule Shizuo out as the one giving him the bruises?

“And what would you say the nature of your relationship is now?”

My god! Izaya thought to himself. The audacity of this fucking woman! The laugh he set free was closer to the derisive scoff he’d been aiming for previously. “I’d say it’s none of your business, quite frankly.” His nails dug into the palms of his hands, like they were so used to these days. He didn’t want to talk about this! Why was she trying to make him talk about this? Couldn’t they all tell that he was barely holding himself together, and any more prodding was going to leave him in pieces on this stupid fucking table?

“I see,” The woman said.

No, you don’t see anything.

“Does Heiwajima-kun ever force you to do things you’re not comfortable with? Is he ever aggressive if you have disagreements?”

“What?” Izaya asked, actually taken aback. He felt a little like he was still stuck on one of the previous pages in her binder and she’d already turned a new one. What the hell was happening? “No, no— that’s not what this is—”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Izaya-kun. It doesn’t make you weak to admit—”

“I said no—” He was raising his voice now, control slipping like blood down skin. How dare she make him out to be some kind of victim. Would she be saying these things if she’d seen what he’d done to those men in the warehouse? If she’d seen what he’d done to Kuza? He wasn’t weak, he wasn’t—

“I’m only trying to put all the pieces together so I can—”

“My life is not a puzzle book!” Izaya yelled, standing up and slamming his hands flat on the table. She wasn’t holding back anymore and so neither would he. “If there are pieces missing it’s because your not privy to them,” He sneered. “You are pushing the boundaries of what is appropriate and I refuse to answer any more questions that aren’t related to the current situation.” Glare, hard. Breath, fast. Izaya could feel Shirou’s gaze on him, what part of him, he wasn’t sure. “With that in mind I suggest you share whatever decision it is I’m sure you’ve already made so we can be done with this and you may leave.”

A tense silence stretched thin around the room, but maybe it was only tense for him, because the social worker seemed unperturbed as she wrote something down with her pen, and Izaya got the feeling the officers at her sides would only stand if she gave them the go-ahead to. “I see,” She said again. Izaya was getting sick of hearing it. “Well, in that case I have some questions for you, Orihara-san,” She said calmly, turning to face Shirou like Izaya was no longer in the room. His father looked up at him where he was still stood with his hands pressed to the table, and gestured with a flick of his dark-lashed gaze for Izaya to take a seat. Izaya grit his teeth, but he also sat back down, even if it was with a dramatic huff of air and not much else.

“How do you find living with Izaya-kun?” She asked him.

Shirou caught his gaze again for a moment or two, like he was searching Izaya’s own face for something to say, before turning to answer the social worker. “Fine, I guess. He keeps to himself, mostly.”

“He seems withdrawn?”

“I suppose,” Shirou said, uncertainly, like he was choosing his words carefully. Izaya didn’t know why — if his father really wanted him gone, this was the perfect opportunity. “Though only as much as most teenagers, I guess.”

Hanakawa hummed thoughtfully. Izaya reassured himself the pen was only scratching paper and not the tissue in his brain. He’d changed his mind. He’d much rather her ask him these questions than have the two of them talk about him like he wasn’t sitting right fucking here. “Is there a history of mental illness in the family?” She asked casually. Izaya chuckled darkly. “I don’t think this is a laughing matter, Izaya-kun,” She finally acknowledged him again.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” He said, “Maybe it’s just because you’re on the wrong side of the table.”

She narrowed her shrewd gaze at him, and he narrowed his in turn. Breaking it off quickly, she turned her attention back to Shirou.

“I can’t be sure,” His father hummed thoughtfully, but something in his voice sounded a little off.

“We have records of Izaya-kun having some appointments as a child,” She said, flicking through a few stapled pages in her binder. “There are also records of you having a short in-patient stay around the same age Izaya-kun is now.”

“Really?” Shirou asked, in a casual tone, the kind that made Izaya think it was forced to cover something else. “I suppose every teenager has a troubled phase then.”

Izaya eyed his father curiously, filing away that piece of information to be picked apart later. Shirou had been admitted to a psychiatric ward? The idea put some pieces together, while also carving out some missing ones. Hanawaka didn’t seem to linger on it; it wasn’t his puzzle she was putting together after all. “I’d say this is a little more than that,” She told Shirou, before folding her hands over the table and fixing him with her unwavering attention. “For some reason, other than the record of the appointments taking place, I couldn’t find any established diagnosis or notes taken from the doctors.”

“Hm, that is strange,” Shirou hummed thoughtfully. He shrugged. “Well, I don’t remember much about that, and I’m sure Izaya doesn’t either. As far as I can tell neither one of us is mentally compromised, nor is anyone I’m aware of on my side of the family.”

The laughter Izaya was holding in felt deranged and desperate even in the space of his chest. Shirou had to be lying, for whose sake he wasn’t sure, but it was better than thinking his father genuinely believed what he was saying. He couldn’t decide what was more funny: Shirou thinking Izaya wouldn’t be mentally compromised after everything he’d been through, or Shirou thinking his own behaviour didn’t point to some deep, fundamental disfunction in his own brain. There was no point in laughing; no one else would find it funny. Izaya wasn’t entirely sure he did either.

“Right,” The social worker said, leaning back in her chair with a deep sigh. She flipped through a few pages in her binder, tapped her elegant fingers against the paper, met his gaze from across the table. Sighing again, she leant forward to turn a new page and begin writing once more. “The charges will be dropped,” She said with confidence. “You won’t be expelled but starting now you’ll have a two week suspension.” She kept writing. “A non-negotiable part of this arrangement is that you will have an evaluation by a psychologist with regular, mandatory appointments. They will determine if medication or an in-patient stay is needed.” Finally finished taking whatever notes she had been, the social worker retracted her pen and closed her book. “The alternative to this is proceeding without my intervention which will probably end in a juvenile court room. Do you understand?”

Izaya felt his stomach twist and his heart sink, but he knew this was a better outcome than he deserved. Head bowed, he tried to ignore the strange disappointment tangling in his chest. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to be taken away or shipped off to some institution. So why was he feeling so frustrated with her decision? “Yes, I understand,” He said, something strangling his voice to a softness he’d been lacking earlier in the interview. He was still looking at the weight of her heavy folder, decidedly closed, but the social worker was still looking at him, he realised belatedly. Her analytical gaze lingered like the cold still stuck to his skin from outside.

“Izaya-kun, would it be alright if we had a few minutes to talk privately?”

Somehow he didn’t stiffen as much as Shirou did beside him. Izaya tried not to look at him when he said “Yes.” The social worker nodded her head to the officers either side of her. They stood from their seats, if a little reluctantly, and Shirou led them both to the front door. Hanakawa waited until the door clicked closed and all three of them were on the other side of it to start speaking again.

“So,” She began conversationally, like this was the start of the interview all over again and not the end of it. “What was troublesome?”

“What?” He asked uncertainly, confused at the abrupt topic change without context.

She was patient with him. “Before,” She explained, “You said you’d had a troublesome day. That was part of what led to your… outburst.”

Izaya kept his mouth closed and his gaze narrowed. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to get out of him, and more importantly, what she was going to do with it if he gave it to her.

“The altercation between you and that boy wasn’t too long after lunch,” She continued. “So, did something happen at school before that? Did something happen on the way to school…?” Her voice was softer now than it had been before, a gentle prod that Izaya felt like the sharp end of a harpoon. “Did something happen at home this morning…? Maybe with your father…?”

Ah, so that was her angle. Izaya kept his lips pressed tightly together, but he had a feeling the way his gaze tilted off to the side said more than his mouth ever could.

“I want to help you, Izaya, but I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.” She reached across the table and placed her hand gently over his wrist. He stiffened, but he didn’t move it away. He wondered if she could feel the bandages under his sleeve. “Do you feel safe? Living here with just you and your father?”

Izaya hated the way his breath was getting stuck in his throat, hated the way he felt torn between pushing her off and pulling her close. Like one of those big buckets at the water park — filling up, filling up. He was going to spill everything. He didn’t want to, but…—

“What if I didn’t,” He said, voice thick and low. He didn’t recognise it. “Hypothetically. What would the alternative be?”

She took a breath and hummed thoughtfully. “Foster care,” She said, “A group home, an in-patient stay. I couldn’t promise where or for how long. There’s a chance you’d have to leave your school and your friends.”

Izaya nodded slowly, face blank and mind the opposite. He was grateful for her honesty, at least. Better the devil you know, than the devil you don’t, he thought to himself grimly. The only thing keeping him above water right now was Shizuo, if he had to leave, if he lost that, then…

Izaya didn’t know what he’d do — and he didn’t want to find out.

“I understand,” He said, forcing a smile that was closer to the one he’d offered upon first meeting her. “But that’s not necessary. I’m perfectly safe staying here.”

She didn’t looked convinced, but just like Izaya knew better than to think convincing her was a realistic expectation at this point, she also seemed to know better than to think she was going to change his mind about this. She furrowed her brows and sighed a little sadly, pulling her hand back from his wrist and instead pulling her bag into her lap. Izaya watched her unzip a little pocket in the front and take out a card. “If you change your mind, or if you ever feel unsafe, please call me on this number,” She said, handing him the thin, glossy business card. He took it, carefully; turned it over in his fingers and looked at the back. “Izaya,” She said, with a level of seriousness that had his attention shooting up from the card to her face. “I know we’ve only just met, and you probably have your reservations about me, but as a personal favour, I’m asking you, from the bottom of my heart, please do not throw that card away.” She pleaded, surprisingly sincere. Caught a little off guard, Izaya nodded quickly.

“I wont,” He said. He wasn’t sure if he meant it, but it was enough to have her relax. Smiling softly, Izaya was struck for a moment by the memory of his mother — smiling sweetly at him from across the room, or the dinner table, or — towards the end — from her hospital bed, his hand enclosed gently in her own dainty one. Swallowing thickly, he looked down, at his own hands in his lap, cold and holding only Hanakawa’s business card. While he struggled with getting a breath into his tight chest, she stood and gathered her things, tucking them back into her bag. He stood too.

“It was lovely to meet you, Izaya-kun.” She extended her hand and Izaya took it without thinking too hard about anything at all. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you ever need anything.”

“Okay,” He replied, still feeling a little adrift in the world. “Thanks,” He thought to quickly add on, hoping he at least sounded a bit sincere.

She smiled at him, bowed her head, and made for the door without asking him to see her out. Izaya watched her go, listened to her heels click-clacking on the floor — that reminded him of his mother too, when she’d still been healthy enough to go to work in the mornings. He didn’t follow her. He stood by the table, clutching the top of the chair he’d been sitting in for support. The door closed, and Izaya let a breath shudder from his chest. Turning away, he headed towards the stairs; he needed a moment — away from Shirou, away from anyone. He closed the bedroom door behind himself and took a seat on his messy bed. This was okay, he tried to tell himself. He wasn’t getting expelled, and he wasn’t going to jail. Even if being stuck here for the next two weeks with Shirou was going to be its own kind of prison. He had no idea how Shirou was going to react to all of this, and a part of that scared him, even if he really wished it didn’t.

Turning the card over in his hand, gaze lingering on the shiny, silver letters making up Hanakawa Aiko’s name, Izaya wondered what she might have done if he’d told her about what’d happened at the warehouse. Would she have helped him? He wondered how she might have looked at him, if he’d told her Shirou had kissed him. Shoulders tight, Izaya shook his head and cast the thought aside. He wouldn’t, and so there was no point torturing himself with the idea of it. He stood from his bed and walked towards his desk. The bin underneath it was almost overflowing. He’d have to empty it soon. He turned the card between his fingers a few times, not quite sure what made him reach for the handle of his desk draw instead. He opened it, and then he opened the false back portion, and tossed the card in to sit amongst his knives and all the other important things he had to keep hidden from the world.

She’d begged him from the bottom of her heart, after all, and Izaya liked to think he wasn’t as cruel as he often made himself out to be.

Chapter Text

The knock at his door almost startled him out of his skin.

The fact that Shirou was bothering to knock at all said a lot about what kind of mood he was in. Izaya wasn’t as relieved as he thought he would be.

“Can you come downstairs…?” His father asked him through the door. “So we can talk…”

Izaya was still stood by his desk, staring across the room at the bloody handprint he’d neglected to clean from his window. He was so tired. He didn’t want another interrogation when he was still reeling from the last one. He just wanted to go to bed. “Okay.”

Only silence met his answer, and then the sound of footsteps retreating back down the stairs. The other man was being oddly acquiescent, it seemed. Izaya didn’t know how he felt about that, what it would mean for him once he got down there. There was no point in lingering, he supposed. He’d had a day and a half and now he wanted it to be over. He took a breath, pulled his shoulders back, and left the room.

Shirou was already at the table when Izaya got to the bottom of the stairs. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he was drinking something clear with ice. As Izaya got closer and saw the bottle on the table he realised it was vodka. He took a seat, fell into it with a careless disregard for the way it made the glass on the table rattle. Feeling confident in his apathy, Izaya dragged the bottle to him, took a swig from the top with a blank face and a burning throat. Shirou said nothing, did nothing, just watched him with raised brows, and so Izaya took another. He set the bottle back on the table, rolled it with his thumb until he could read the label on the back. “водка из воды ладожского озера,” He said to no one in particular.

“Since when do you know Russian?” He sounded confused, surprised. Izaya decided he liked that.

“Since I started learning a year ago,” He answered honestly, for once.

Shirou didn’t smile, but his lips twitched like he wanted to. Or maybe not, he thought, as his father’s face settled on a frown; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen things that weren’t there. “You’re smart,” Shirou said, “You’re lucky they’re not kicking you out of school.”

Izaya hummed, twisted the bottle back to it’s front. “I don’t know if ‘lucky’ is quite the word I’d use.”

“Oh yeah? What would you say it is then?”

“…Tragedy.” He let the word hang in the air, like a dead man swinging from a rope. Shakespeare could have written a play about his life. He was sure it would have been a hit with the melancholically twisted souls of that time.

Shirou took another sip from his glass. The ice clinked inside as he placed it back on the table. “What happened at school…,” He started, “…Was it because of last night?”

Izaya took a breath, lungs stiff. What part of last night he was referring to, it was hard to be sure. “It was because of a lot of things,” He said. Already he could feel the vodka warming his stomach, numbing his nerves. He was grateful for that, thought he would still be even if this turned into a fight. That way everything might not hurt as much.

“But what happened last night was one of them.”

Izaya could tell now, by the guilty look on his face that he meant only one thing. He was vaguely surprised Shirou had the guts to bring it up at all, had been half-expecting, half-hoping, he might pretend nothing had even happened. That wasn’t the case, it seemed. Izaya took another swig of the bottle and then left it on the table, taking a breath that burnt with the alcohol scorching its way down his throat. “Yes, it was,” He answered, the honesty coming more easily than it usually would. He hadn’t tried that yet, had he? Being honest. Maybe it was just the Vodka starting to talk, but he thought it might be funny to throw Shirou off somehow, to see how he reacted to Izaya’s brutal, unfiltered truth as opposed to his carefully constructed lies. What could it really hurt at this point anyway? He was sick of playing games, sick of hiding. He wasn’t afraid like he had been. He was just…

Empty.

There was a black hole inside of him, eating him away. Inevitable, like death, the nothing would consume him by the end of this, and then he’d be nothing too.

He licked his lip, felt it sting. “So, how was it talking to Shiki-san after so long? He said he was surprised to hear from you.”

Shirou paused with his glass tipped halfway to his mouth. His face betrayed nothing. Flat. Eyes on the table. But it was harder for him to hide the tension in his shoulders. “It wasn’t a connection I was particularly interested in realigning, but you didn’t give me much choice,” He said, then brought the glass the rest of the way to his lips. “You talked to him?” He asked the question before taking a sip. Placed the glass back on the table after he was done.

“Yes,” Izaya said easily. Honesty wasn’t so hard once you stopped giving a shit. Maybe if he’d tried this from the beginning he wouldn’t be where he was now. “I had a few formal complaints to make about almost being hacked to pieces by an axe-wielding psychopath.”

Shirou seemed to be putting something together. Brows furrowed down at the wood grain in the table. Izaya realised that maybe he hadn’t known why he was out there, why it had happened. And maybe he also hadn’t known Izaya knew about their connection. Was it possible he hadn’t been keeping tabs on Izaya this whole time like Izaya had assumed? That he’d not been digging up his past like Izaya had been doing to him? The idea was… sobering, and possibly a little offensive. Like Shirou had been assuming he was just some normal kid.

“You’re working for him?”

“Sometimes I do,” Izaya answered him.

“Doing what?” Another sip from the glass, ice clinking. It was almost empty now.

“I’m an informant."

Shirou paused with the glass to his mouth. “A rat,” He said around the rim, with a venomous disdain that caught Izaya off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what we’d call the kind of people that do what you do.” Shirou set his glass on the table with a smack. “Gain someone’s trust and then sell it to the highest bidder.”

The absolute hypocrisy. Izaya scoffed defensively. “And that was different to what you did, how exactly?”

Again, Shirou paused. Narrowed gaze chained to Izaya’s. “I was loyal to the Awakusu—”

“As am I,” Izaya growled across the table. He realised he was beginning to lean over it, fingers clenched around the edge. He forced himself to let go and relax back in his seat. “Although if being loyal gets me into situations like it did last night, I might have to rethink where my loyalties lie.”

“Situations like the one you were in last night are normal for the kind of work your trying to do.” It was Shirou’s turn to lean across the table. Izaya could see him gripping the glass so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if the thing burst into tiny splinters any moment now. “The yakuza isn’t a playground for kids. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been thinking getting involved in that sort of shit.”

“Fuck you,” Izaya snapped, slapping his palm on the table. The words were out before he could take them back. More of them began to bubble up from his throat. “Perhaps I was thinking I needed to use what skills I had to support a family. To feed and clothe two children. To pay the therapy for my cancer-ridden mother in hospital.” Izaya’s fist clenched on top of the table. Shirou was unreadable with his empty glass and eyes. “As you would know, the Yakuza pay very well,” He sneered, disdain dripping from his voice. “And though you wouldn’t know, I’m good at my job. It’s the reason I’ve kept it along with my head the entire time I’ve been working with them. I know it’s been a long time since you last saw me, but, surprise, I’m not a child anymore.”

Izaya did not break the weighted eye contact. He did not budge. And it felt good. Shirou still had his glass clenched, and his eyes smouldering under his dark lashes like they were about to set fire to something on the table. Izaya waited for the outburst, the violence, but it wasn’t coming. “I’m painfully aware you’re not a child anymore,” His father said, with a strange tenor to his voice that almost sounded… sad. Or something. Izaya wasn’t sure. Shirou reached across the table for the half-empty bottle of Vodka. The sound of glass dragging over wood set his nerves on edge.

“Why don’t we play a little game?”

Izaya froze stiff, a cold chill shuddering its way down his spine. Hearing his father quote something eerily similar to Jigsaw wasn’t making him feel any better. The neck of the bottle and the rim of the glass clinked together as Shirou refilled his drink. Izaya tried to swallow down the unease twisting its way up his throat. “A game?” He asked, honestly afraid to hear the answer.

Shirou leant back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Each of us gets to ask the other three questions. In which we have to answer honestly. No matter what.”

Izaya frowned. That was it? Was that not just a conversation between two functional people that could communicate without lying? If this was a Saw movie he’d be a little disappointed. Besides, there was a fundamental flaw to this idea.

“How will I know if you’re being honest or not?”

Shirou’s lips quirked on something like a smirk. “Are you not capable of being able to tell when someone is lying?”

Izaya raised a brow. That was not the issue. He just wasn’t sure if he was capable of pressing if he knew that Shirou was. This idea was volatile. It was dangerous. Izaya had a feeling that whatever Shirou was planning on asking him he wouldn’t want to answer. And he knew with absolute certainty that Shirou would feel the same. If this turned into a fight Izaya wasn’t sure he’d have it in him to put up much of one. Not after everything that’d happened today.

“Fine,” He still said. He wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, I’ll go first.”

Izaya fought very hard not to roll his eyes. He needed another swig of the vodka. He reached across the table for it.

“Are you romantically involved with Shizuo-kun?”

Izaya paused with his arm across the table. Bottle in his hand. Heart stuck somewhere in his stomach. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

“Are you serious?” He asked. He could feel what he was thinking written all over his face. “That’s your question?”

Shirou shrugged, slouched back in his seat, arms across his chest, ever the picture of casual, uncaring nonchalance. Unlike Izaya’s, his face betrayed nothing. He didn’t budge. And Izaya didn’t know what to do. “Why the hell are you even asking me that? Why does it even matt—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Shirou interrupted him, now leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on the table. His eyes were heavy. Weighted. “It’s not your turn yet. Answer the question.”

Maybe Izaya was wrong. This was a game. But it was one only Shirou knew how to play. That was okay. Izaya had never liked playing by other people’s rules anyway. He much preferred to make up his own; swap out the boards and rearrange the pieces, until neither him nor his opponent had any idea what they were even playing anymore. Izaya dragged the bottle of Vodka the rest of the way across the table, glare set like his mouth. Whatever. His stupid fucking move for wasting his question on something so dumb. He took a swig from the bottle. Slammed it back on the table.

“Yes,” He said. His stomach twisted, and it might have been the vitriolic burn of alcohol, or it might have just been this. He kept his chin high, his glare hard, because inside his blood began to wobble. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Is that one of your questions?”

Izaya could feel the muscles flex in his jaw. “…No,” He managed to get out from between grit teeth. Shirou leaned back in his chair again, face blank and eyes on fire. He gestured with his hand like he was passing the conversation over to Izaya. So that was it? Really? Each answer to each question wasn’t going to come with a dozen angry others? It was too good to be true, and that made it unsettling.

It wasn’t like he’d really expected Shirou to explode in some kind of homophobic rage — that would have been a little hypocritical, all recent, awful things considered — but he’d expected something. Mainly a resistance to the idea of him being romantically involved with anyone (all recent, awful things considered). And maybe that would still come — later, after he’d wrung the truth out of Izaya like a blood soaked towel.

Shirou was still waiting — for him, Izaya realised. With an uncharacteristic level of patience and a finger gently drumming against his crossed arm. It was his turn, and even though he had more questions than he knew what to do with, he had absolutely no idea how to ask them.

Why did you leave? Why did you come back?

…Why did you kiss me…?

He wanted to be logical and impersonal, to do this like a business interview. But he couldn’t help but feel emotional about it. Couldn’t help but want to cry and throw himself across the table. Ask him why, why, why, why? And even with the need to know thrumming like a pulse at the back of his head, the fear of knowing was almost as strong. Almost had him standing from the table and making a run for it out the door. He was absolutely terrified of Shirou answering his questions, much more than he was scared of answering his.

Sighing hard through his nose, Izaya rubbed a hand over his face. He felt the bandages on his arm shift against the material inside his hoodie. Did he start small? Ask him about the lock on his door? Or the medical records? Did he try to get information he could use t—

“Why did you kill him?”

The words left his mouth without any pre-emptive intention to say them. It was like they’d come from someone else; they must have come from someone else, because he didn’t want to talk about this. Not at all.

Shirou looked surprised, but only a little bit. Mostly confused, maybe cautious. “Who? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

And that was a horrifying answer all on its own. He really should have been just leaving it there but someone else was opening his mouth to speak again, and Izaya could do nothing but listen. “Takeshi Okada,” He said. It was the first time in a long time he’d spoken the name out loud. It tasted like poison. Burning, twisted, sick. Across from him, Shirou went a bloodless pale, like he was the one about to be sick. “He was the teacher at my elementary school. You killed him, didn’t you? I want to know why.” By some kind of miracle his voice came out even. Controlled. Shirou looked anything but. He was staring — wide eyed, lips parting for silence and then closing on it. He looked the very epitome of speechless, and if the circumstances were a little less harrowing Izaya might have been impressed with himself.

“You remember him…?” Shirou asked, carefully, like the words might break. Or like they might break him.

“I do,” Izaya said. Without emotion. Without looking away. Without showing anything he was feeling on the inside. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it might be. Not when most of what he felt right now was an empty void of nothing.

“You remember what he did?” Shirou asked, quietly again, even though there was no one else around to hear them, and no illusion of peace for him to break.

Izaya did not move. “I do.”

Realisation settled in, and Shirou’s eyes went dark as he unfolded his arms and pressed both hands to the table. “Then why the hell would you even need to ask me something like that?” He hissed.

Izaya leaned forward too. “Saving someone from an act of violence just to inflict more on them. Almost seems more cruel than doing nothing, don’t you think?” Izaya’s voice was cold and sharp. This was meant to be his question. Not Shirou’s. And he was getting a little sick of the other man acting like this was some dreadful experience for him to be reliving. Like he was the one being confronted with the reality of having been repeatedly raped as a child.

Shirou flinched like Izaya’s words were a physical strike. His face twisted, horrified, maybe even hurt, and the idea would have been laughable had Izaya felt at all like laughing. “I’ve never hurt you like that.” The words were almost a whisper.

No, but I’m terrified you will.

“There isn’t a linear scale you get to use to measure the effect of your violence. That’s not how abusing someone works.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Shirou growled. His grip on the edge of the table was splinteringly tight.

“I think you have no fucking clue.”

Izaya thought for a moment the other man was going to hit him. He looked like he was barely keeping himself in his seat on the other side of the table. He needed to back off. The last thing he wanted was for Shirou to spiral into another psychotic meltdown. This was absolutely not worth it.

Izaya leant away from the table and tried to relax in his chair. He crossed his legs and his arms. But his glare was still fixed. The muscles in Shirou’s forearms flexed as his grip tightened, and then they relaxed. “He deserved it,” He muttered darkly. “He deserved worse than what I gave him. He was scum and he had to go. There. That’s my answer.” He let go of the table and threw himself back in his seat.

Izaya didn’t know why he even asked this question. He was starting to think there’d be no answer Shirou could give him that would make him feel better. “He had a family,” He found himself saying. Eyes on the half empty Vodka bottle, guilt sticking to the back of his throat. He hated it. He wasn’t supposed to feel guilty.

“He did,” Shirou said, without sounding guilty at all. “A boy. Only a little older than you. Do you think he’s missing the special treatment?” Izaya looked up to see the other man’s stare. The words washed over him. Cold. He hadn’t thought about that. How incredibly self-centred of him. “How did you find out about that?” Shirou demanded, and then shook his head with a rueful smile. “No, wait. Don’t answer that. I can guess.” He threw his glass back and downed most of what was in it.

What, because I’m a rat? Izaya thought disdainfully.

“What did the social worker say to you when we left the room?”

Izaya couldn’t help it. He laughed. It slipped from his mouth a quiet chuckle, but it echoed manic in his chest. He let his head fall into his hand.

“What’s so funny?”

“You must be really enjoying this,” He said around a broken grin. What the hell. Why shouldn’t he just tell him the truth. All of it. Better like this than having it beat out of him, or blackmailed out of him. At least this way it felt like he still had some semblance of control. “She wanted to make sure you weren’t roughing me up on the down-low. You know, wanted to make sure I felt safe.” He narrowed his eyes. Let his lips pull back on a smile he didn’t feel. “Don’t worry. I didn’t rat you out. Despite being one.”

The other man’s glare was unimpressed. He didn’t speak. And Izaya realised that was because it was his turn again. He swallowed, throat still an achy burn from the vodka. His head was beginning to feel warm and heavy. It was becoming stiflingly hot inside his body so he pushed the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows. Shirou eyed the bandage on his forearm with furrowed brows and Izaya hid it under the table. He needed to ask about the psychiatric hospital, or maybe about his family? He tried to take control of that impatient, over-emotional impulse, but it bared down on him like an anvil — crushing him, consuming him. He breathed in and it breathed out for him. “Did you really love my mum?”

He wasn’t sure why it was important but, somehow, it still was. Shirou flickered at the edge of anger, but stopped short of reaching for it. His face belayed a combination of confused and sad that together made him look like he was briefly in pain. Izaya didn’t know if he believed it, and knew even less what to make of it if he did.

“Of course I did,” His father said, a frustrated kind of earnestness making him grip the edge of the table again. The answer wasn’t exactly surprising but it didn’t make sense.

“But you left,” Izaya reminded him. “Her. To take care of three kids on her own. You left her to die from cancer. On her own.” He couldn’t tell if his voice was skidding high or growling down, or some frenzied combination of the two. “Surely you knew. And you didn’t come back to see her, you didn’t even say goodbye—”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Izaya pressed, the word sharp like a whipping cord. He began to speak faster. “Because you killed that guy? That’s bullshit and you know it. The awakusu would have helped you eventually. If you’re as smart as you think you are you wouldn’t have left any—”

“I left because of you.” Shirou’s voice cut him down to silence, and his words kept that silence lingering like a ghost. Izaya stared at the other man’s face, shocked. “I didn’t come back because of you.”

He didn’t know how — after everything — he was still able to feel that pain of rejection like it was splitting him down the middle. He flinched back from the surprising sting of it more than he did Shirou himself. He felt shamed, scored by it. The hurt festered into rage more quickly than he was prepared for it. He stood from the table and slammed his hands against it hard enough it felt like the whole earth rattled. “I was eight years old!” He shouted. “What the fuck did I ever do to make you hate me this fucking much!?”

“Shut up,” Shirou hissed, standing too. He was already seething and Izaya didn’t know why. He only hoped the other man was too angry to see how much he was hurting. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. This isn’t about hate, it isn’t even about you.”

“—But you just said—”

“No,” Shirou cut him off, breath ragged. “No more. I’m done. I answered your question, now leave it.” He put a wall between them with his voice and his shoulders and his wild gaze; Izaya didn’t dare push against it. He tried to catch his breath. And then he tried to wrangle his emotions into something he could hold — but they were strong and they were frantic, like a herd of terrified horses. Izaya had his hands clenched at his sides now, but Shirou’s were pressed to the table. Neither one of them made a move to sit back down and play a fallacy of peace. Jaw tight and sharp, Shirou stared him down with eyes like black holes. “My turn,” He said without blinking, “Did you go through my things? In my office, in my room?”

Izaya felt the temperature drop like someone had just opened a portal to the Arctic. He shivered, at least he thought he did. The thought of lying crossed him briefly, but Shirou was staring into him like he could already see everything inside. Izaya set his jaw. Behind the table, he touched the outline of his switchblade in his pocket. Just to be certain it was still there.

“Yes.”

Shirou was calm in an eery way. The answer did nothing to him outwardly. In his eyes, Izaya could see a storm.

“Are you trying to say you didn’t do the same to me?” Izaya asked him, because the silence was unsettling.

Shirou barely budged beside tilting his head consideringly. “I thought that might have been an invasion of privacy.”

Izaya couldn’t help the scoff of laughter any more than he could the way his fingers shook. “And taking the lock out of my door isn’t?”

That seemed to get a reaction. Shirou scowled at him, tight-lipped and tense-jawed. “If you really remember everything that happened back then, then you would already know why I did that.”

Izaya wasn’t sure if he was more taken aback by the fact Shirou had so easily admitted he’d done it, or that he’d mentioned something Izaya hadn’t thought he would. For a few moments he was at a loss for words, uncertain and apprehensive. Frustrated by his own confusion. He quickly realised it was rage that had been keeping him silent. It began to flow from some jagged rip like lava. He let it.

“So you can have a quick entry and front row seats if I decide to hang myself from the ceiling? Wow. That’s pretty sick.” A deranged laugh set itself free from his throat and now it was Shirou’s turn to flinch. It was satisfying— more than it probably should have been. “You know if I wanted to be dead, I would be.” He couldn’t take a step forward, legs already pressed close to the edge of the table, but Izaya hoped that squaring his shoulders and glaring his father down would have the same effect. “I know you think you have some sort of control over my life, but you don’t. Short of tying me to fucking chair you have no say in what I do, where I go, or who I see, so stop getting off on the idea that you have any kind of power over me.” Izaya shoved the table forward so hard it knocked Shirou back a step. The pain ricocheted up his left arm, but he did his best to keep it from his face. Somehow the vodka bottle remained upstanding; the empty glass did not. It rolled its way to the edge of the table and just as it was about to fall, Shirou reached out to grab it without looking away

“Well, then,” He said with a sneering calm, “I think with all that you’ve forfeited your right to a final question.”

Izaya breathed hard through his nose, never letting his glare flicker or break. When Shirou began to slowly move around the table towards him, Izaya moved in the opposite direction, keeping the furniture between them.

“Though, generous person I am, I’ll offer you a bonus round.” There was something unhinged in the way Shirou circled the table in an effort to get to him. It reminded Izaya of a hyena. He refused to let it frighten him, but fear never had liked listening to him. “One more question each,” The other man clarified unnecessarily. He stopped, eyes wild, and leaned on the table with one hand pressed flat and the other still gripping his empty glass. He gave Izaya no breath to accept or refuse, no room to tell him he could go to hell and take his questions with him. Without waiting he continued the game like he was the only one playing. “I’ll go first — have you let Shizuo-kun fuck you?”

Izaya wasn’t sure if the blood was draining from his face or flushing it further. He didn’t flinch, but it did feel like someone’d knocked all the air from his lungs. He shouldn’t be surprised; he knew Shirou must have been thinking it, after seeing the bruises on his neck, after noticing all the little things Izaya had been doing his best to keep hidden, he’d just never expected the other man might actually say it. The fact that he had made his insides twist so hard he felt sick. When he leant forward to press his hands to the table like Shirou had, he severed that sickness like it was an infected limb. Some of the fear went with it, and Izaya was left with only a burning anger that somehow seemed to clear his head and make it swim at the same time.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t really want answers to,” He hissed without looking away.

“Is that a yes?” Shirou’s half-smirk was the dangerous tension in a thread before it snapped. Izaya saw it for exactly what it was and leant more of his weight against the table anyway.

His grin was cruel; head tilted. “Why?” He asked. “Are you jealous?”

The thread snapped and Shirou went with it. He lunged across the table so fast if it hadn’t been accompanied by a sickening shatter he might have succeeded in catching Izaya by the front of his jumper like he’d been trying to. The glass Shirou had been holding was broken. Pieces of it glittered on the table and the floor, and quicker than he’d tried to reach across the table, the blood began to pour from his hand. It ran from a gash across his palm like a tiny waterfall, quickly sluicing down his wrist and to the inside of his elbow. Shirou held his other hand against it, and Izaya watched the drops he couldn’t stop from spilling splash against the shards of glass on the table. He stared without moving, for a moment seeing more blood than there was, seeing it everywhere, on him, seeing the knife in his hands like he’d been the one to spill it. And then Shirou spat a muttered swear as he dropped back into his seat, and Izaya was pulled free from wherever he’d been for a moment taken hostage. Both his father’s hands were covered in blood now, and with a jaw too tight to speak, Izaya looked away from them so he could make his way with purpose across the house to the kitchen instead. He yanked the hand towel from where it had been hanging over the handle of the oven and brought it with him back to Shirou’s side. He tossed it unceremoniously into the other man’s lap. Shirou wrapped it around the awful looking cut in his hand slowly and without looking up to see Izaya glaring at him.

“My turn,” he said with an even bite. “Why did you kiss me?”

Shirou’s reaction to the question was somehow the most and least dramatic of them all. He stiffened, shoulders hunching, spine bowing like a wilted flower. For the first time since Izaya has remembered knowing him he looked a true picture of guilt. He frowned at his bloody hands like they’d been the ones to speak to him. “I was confused…”

“About?” Izaya pushed impatiently, with conviction. Seeing Shirou like this made him feel like he could get away with it.

Shirou took a breath and licked his lips. He still wouldn’t look at Izaya, and the towel around his hand had turned dark with his blood. “Who you were,” He said quietly. “Who I was.”

“Not good enough,” Izaya hissed, though he was vaguely surprised he was getting an answer at all. He took a step closer to the chair and finally Shirou looked up at him.

His jaw was set, but it looked more a fight against fear than it did a display of anger. “It was a mistake.”

“And all the other times?” Izaya asked, somehow managing to keep his voice steady, “When you snap and hit me, or try to stab me, or split me open with a fucking belt.” His voice fractured over the last few words, but he shoved every other bit of emotional vulnerability back inside where Shirou couldn’t see it.

The other man lowered his gaze. “Every time it’s a mistake,” He said, and the words were so genuine and full of pain they sparked an indignant rage inside Izaya. How dare he say things like he meant them, how dare he make Izaya feel bad after everything he’d done to him.

Reaching forward Izaya fisted a hand in Shirou’s hair and jerked his head back. “How many times am I supposed to forgive you for your mistakes?” He sneered down. There was blood smeared at the side of the other man’s jaw, and for a moment Izaya saw something in his face that reminded him of someone else; Kuza, maybe. Or even himself. An open wound, a vulnerable sadness, but Shirou must have realised Izaya was looking at something he wasn’t supposed to because very quickly his face closed off and his hand shot out to make a grip around Izaya’s bare wrist. Slick with blood it was easy for izaya to pull his arm from his fingers. They slid away, and he was left with only red, bright and stark on his white skin.

“These mandated psych appointments are a fucking joke.” He let a frustrated laugh fall from his lips. “You’re the one that needs serious therapy.”

Shirou looked up through his bangs, one hand still putting pressure on the other. “There’s a boy out there with a broken jaw that might think otherwise.”

Izaya grit his teeth. Their glares met like and immovable object and an unstoppable force. “Fine,” He said. “Maybe we both need it. Apples falling from trees and all that.”

A memory forced its way to the surface of his thoughts. A recent one — of Kuza, saying something similarly disturbing after Izaya had unceremoniously kicked him in the face. It made him think of all the other things Kuza had said too. “I’m going to ask you something,” He told the man still glaring up at him, “No games. No tit-for-tat. Just an honest answer because after everything you owe me that.”

A moment of tense silence followed. “Fire away,” Shirou eventually drawled.

“Do you know someone named Kuza?”

If Shirou was surprised, he didn’t show it. No look of consideration, or even curiosity passed over his face. He was a blank, hard glare. Mask thicker than ever after having had Izaya see past it. “No last name?”

“Not that I could find.” It was difficult to admit it, especially to him. But short of speaking to Shiki himself, which he was not quite desperate enough to do again so soon, he’d exhausted all his options and sources. It was as though the other boy had cut himself out of his own history. Which Izaya knew from experience meant he only had something to hide.

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

If Shirou was lying, he was doing a damn good job of it. Izaya hummed quietly, choosing to believe him for the time being, even if it only made things more confusing. “Well I’m going to have a shower and go to bed,” He said with false chirp, turning away from Shirou and heading for the stairs. “It’s been a long day. You know — with all the beating and killing and memories of childhood molestation.”

He paused at the bottom of the staircase to throw the other man a poisonous smile. “I’ll see you in the morning,” He said. “If you don’t bleed to death before then.” Shirou’s piercing glare followed him up to the second floor. Izaya ignored it, feeling strangely giddy.

The feeling disappeared shortly after he locked himself inside the bathroom. With the silence, the noise came back, and he couldn’t look at himself in the broken mirror without flinching.

Chapter Text

His message to Shizuo had been brief, much like the sleep he’d fallen into shortly after.

As it was these days, he supposed. Getting any measure of sleep at all was something to be grateful for. There was no chance for the previous day’s events to come racing back upon waking because he’d already been dreaming about them all night. It had been a vivid play-by-play of every stupid thing he’d done or said but, in the dream, things had gone a little differently — he’d bled himself dry in the school bathroom because Shizuo had never found him. He’d plunged his knife into Kuza’s throat because there’d been no feeling of empathy or guilt to stop him. And when Shirou had lunged across the table, he’d done it with success. He’d pinned Izaya down and the overwhelming spike of fear and panic had woken him before he’d made the decision to try.

Now he felt restless sitting up in bed with a fast-beating heart, caught between the relief of reality and the dread of it.

He untwisted himself from the sheets with a wince; his body was aching almost everywhere — from his throbbing shoulder to his bruised-in face, and the weary muscles winding through his arms and legs. Even the soles of his feet felt tender as they met the carpet. His phone told him he had a few missed calls from Shizuo; gone unheard because he’d left it intentionally on silent. Izaya debated calling back in his head, and then in the end decided it was better he get it out of the way now than be dodging him all day. He sat cross-legged on his bed with the phone to his ear. It rung once, twice, and then the sound cut off abruptly on the third and Shizuo’s tired voice came through the speaker.

“Hey,” He said.

“Hey,” Izaya said back. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

Shizuo sighed. “Yeah, well, you should be. Your vague ass message meant I barely got any sleep.”

“That makes two of us then.” Izaya smiled wryly, even though Shizuo couldn’t see it.

“So what happened?” He asked.

It was Izaya’s turn to sigh. He rubbed his face and winced as he knocked the scab on his lip. “Oh, nothing too exciting. It was like a job interview, except instead of getting a job I get to not be forced into a mental institution.”

“Shit. So somehow you passed then?”

“Of course I did. And what do you mean ‘somehow’? Do I not appear a pinnacle of mental health to you, Shizu-chan?” There was a smile in his voice as he spoke. And when Shizuo answered Izaya could hear the laughter in his.

“Not exactly.”

“Hmm, well maybe this lady wasn’t very good at her job.”

“Yeah, or you’re just too good at yours,” Shizuo said. “You are a cunning bastard after all.”

Izaya huffed a laugh into the phone. “Harsh words for someone who’s supposed to be your boyfriend,” He joked. “I guess it’s good to know you haven’t gone too soft on me after all.”

Another sighing laugh spilled through the receiver. “So that’s it then? Just a two week suspension?”

“No,” Izaya said, trying to ignore the way ‘just’ pierced through him a little. Like Shizuo thought he deserved worse. Which he did, if he was being honest, so he tried not to be hurt by it. “I’m being dragged to mandatory shrink appointments starting today, and depending on their invaluable opinion I might be force fed pills or wrapped up in a straight jacket.” He gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “Besides, being stuck here with Shirou for two weeks might as well be a prison sentence,” He muttered bitterly, only just keeping himself from making a joke about being scared to drop the soap; Shizuo wouldn’t get it, and even worse if somehow he did.

“Well, maybe that could be a good thing,” Shizuo said carefully. “Not the straight jacket part, or the prison sentence, but getting professional help might not be a bad thing when you, you know—”

“When I obviously need it?” Izaya couldn’t quite keep the sharp edge from his voice.

“…Yeah. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t need to act like it tarnishes your pride or something.”

“I’m not,” He bit back, a little too defensively for it to be believable. “I just don’t like psychologists. No one knows me better than myself, and i’ll never be desperate enough to think that having someone pick apart my thoughts with recipes from a textbook will ever do anything but bore me closer to insanity than I already am.”

“Okay, fine.” Shizuo’s voice growled through the phone. “But like you said, it's mandatory. So you may as well have an open mind and try to let it help you instead of making it any more painful than it has to be.”

Izaya grit his teeth and huffed stubbornly through his nose. “I know that,” He muttered quietly. Shizuo was just trying to help, he reminded himself, relaxing his fingers around the phone.

“So, are you like on house arrest?” The other boy asked him, softer than before. “Or can I come see you?”

A tired smile tugged at the sore end of Izaya’s lips. “Don’t you have school?”

“Yeah, but I can skip.”

“You shouldn’t,” Izaya said. “Besides, you didn’t let me skip last week when you were suspended.” Shizuo’s noncommittal grunt said he might have been regretting that now. “I’ll come see you after,” Izaya promised him. “Wait for me at the gate.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Izaya repeated. “You better go get ready for school.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later. I—” Shizuo paused. “—miss you…” He settled on. Izaya’s heart squeezed, and it might have been more painful than it was pleasant. He huffed a laugh through the phone anyway.

“I miss you too. Bye, Shizu-chan.”

“Bye."

Izaya ended the call before he could think better of it. He left his phone on the bed while he went through the painful process of getting changed. His arm felt heavy like lead as he manoeuvred it into the hole of his T-shirt. It was an ache that spread through him, setting all his nerves alight. Instead of distracting him from his other injuries, it seemed as though it was exacerbating all of them at once. He tried to shut it out at he made his way down the stairs, things often got worse before they got better anyway. And the strange feeling swishing around of him — uneasy, unwell — was probably just a very concentrated dose of trepidation.

There was noise coming from the kitchen. Clanging and sizzling, and the smell of something truly wonderful. So Shirou hadn’t bled to death then. How disappointing.

The man was significantly more put together this morning that he had been the last; white shirt tucked into his pants and rolled up at the elbows. Belt cinched tight around his narrow hips. His hair was somewhat tamed and his face clean-shaven. There was a bandage wrapped around the palm of his left hand. He looked up from the pan he was standing over as Izaya got close. There was a bit of a weighted silence as they looked at each other, and then Shirou looked back down and said “Morning,” to whatever he was cooking.

“Morning,” Izaya said back with a raised brow that went unseen. He moved behind Shirou and went for the pot of coffee, noticing the way the other man’s shoulders tensed under his shirt as he for a moment disappeared behind his turned back. “How’s your hand?” He asked, even though he didn’t care.

“It’s fine,” The other man answered. The un-bandaged one tightened it’s grip around the handle of the frying pan. “How’s your arm?”

“Feels like someone’s set it on fire,” Izaya answered honestly. He let it hang dead by his side as he poured coffee with his other one. He ignored the strange look Shirou was eyeing him with as he took his mug and went to sit at the table — cleaned of broken glass and blood, just like the bathroom had been too when he’d gotten back yesterday.

“I made French Toast,” Shirou said without turning around. “Do you want any?”

Another raised brow from Izaya went unseen. There was a nauseous wave rolling in the pit of his stomach, but he knew it was just because he hadn’t eaten in so long. “Sure,” He hummed, hoping the other man hadn’t poisoned it, knowing he’d probably still eat it if he had. A plate was placed in front of him, like he was at a restaurant, and he waited until Shirou had gone back to the stove to start eating so he wouldn’t notice how truly ravenous he was.

“Your appointment is in an hour,” He said as he began rinsing the pan in the sink. The hiss of cold water on hot metal set Izaya’s nerves on edge. “I’ll drive you there.”

Izaya didn’t bother arguing. “Fantastic,” He sighed. Another interrogation was exactly what he needed right now. The toast was good, but by the end of it he was still feeling sick, and he wondered if it wasn’t because he’d been hungry after all.

………………………………………

In the car he felt hot and clammy. Claustrophobic with the seatbelt cinched tight across his chest, queasy with the houses blurring by too fast for him to focus on them. He turned up the air conditioner without asking Shirou who was driving them, and fiddled with the vent until it was pointing directly at his face. He had no idea why he was feeling so anxious. Surely this appointment wouldn’t be any worse than anything else he’d experienced already. Going there fulfilled whatever terms he’d agreed to, but he was under no obligation to tell them anything if he didn’t feel like it. At least that was what he kept reassuring himself with as they got closer and he felt more unwell.

It didn’t help that the tension between him and Shirou was taught like a wire. They hadn’t spoken since breakfast, though the other man kept stealing glances at him from across the car like he wanted to say something. Stopped at a set of traffic lights, he finally did. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this but, just because these people have client confidentiality doesn’t mean you can tell them everything.”

Izaya stared at the faint reflection of himself in the window. Pale. Bruised. “Afraid I’m going to spill your secrets?”

“No,” Shirou said. “I’m afraid you’re going to spill yours.” Izaya glanced at the other man but he was looking straight ahead, one hand on the wheel. “They wont help you if they find out what you did. Neither will that social worker. They’ll have to report you.”

Gritting his teeth, Izaya went back to looking through the passenger window. He knew all that. He wasn’t an idiot. “I’m perfectly aware of what I should and should not be telling people about my situation.” There was no response on his father’s end, and the rest of the car trip was spent in a silence that made him overtly aware of his own off-kilter heartbeat.

It was a relief when they finally pulled up to an office high-rise. Izaya unbuckled his belt and opened the door, desperate to be out of the car and away from the man inside it. “I’ll be back in an hour,” Shirou said. Izaya let the door slam shut by way of a response and walked towards the building. At the front door, he glanced back and saw that Shirou was still waiting. Probably to be sure he wasn’t going to try and make a run for it. Izaya rolled his eyes and went inside. He checked the directory and took the elevator up to the third floor, but even out of the car he still felt sick and feverish, an anxious coil winding up like a spring in his belly. There was a bathroom just outside the elevator and he ducked into it quickly. It was empty, thankfully, and he left the water running as he splashed some over his face, hands white-knuckle around the edges of the sink. He forced himself to take deep breaths, in and out. In an out. The ends of his hair dripping cold down over his temples.

It helped, a little. He dried his face on his shirt, and eyed himself in the mirror. Even with his shoulders square and his chin high, Izaya worried there was still a vulnerability leaking from some hidden crack, and that this person would see it no matter what he did to pretend it wasn’t there. He glared at himself; his bruised-in throat, his dark, scabbed lip, and then he forced himself to turn and leave before another bathroom was left with another broken mirror.

The hall was quiet and empty as he made his way to the office he was looking for. Through the closed glass doors he could see a lady at a reception desk, and a man in the waiting room, a bunch of painfully unhelpful mental health resources posted on the walls. He was starting to feel sick again, and in the same moment the lady at the desk looked up and caught his gaze through the closed glass doors, Izaya took a clumsily hurried step away and turned around to power walk back down the hallway.

He had to get out. Now. His steps sped up as he randomly took turns through the maze of a building, past waiting rooms for other clinical businesses. He imagined the reception lady sprinting after him, ankles wobbling in her heels, hands ready to grab him by the hair and drag him back if she caught him. Anxiety spurred him into his own sprint, and by the time he hit a dead end that was actually a fire escape he was dizzy and panting for breath. He pushed on the door and it opened without an alarm, onto a small metal balcony that had ladder-like steps taking him back to the ground. He hurried down them, vision swaying, skipping the last few rusted-out steps by jumping from the first-floor landing straight down to the concrete. He stumbled a little as his feet met the ground, jarring his ankle and his oversensitive arm. The blinding pain of it sent him into an alleyway wall. He groaned against it, clutching the bricks, waiting for the pain to recede and his head to stop spinning. “Fucking hell,” He panted. That was stupid, this whole thing was stupid. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore, he thought to himself. Every decision he made was impulsive and reckless, and without thought for the inevitable consequences. He’d always been like that a little, but now…

He took a deep breath against the wall. He needed to get control of himself. Centre himself. Now was not the time for him to start feeling weak.

Izaya pushed himself away from the wall and stood firm on his two feet. He felt better outside, with the breeze on his face and the sounds of the city in his ears. He took his phone from his pocket and waited until his eyes would focus on the time. He had an hour before Shirou would come looking for him, perhaps less if the clinic decided to call him and mention he was missing. He knew what he had to do while he had the opportunity. After all, who knew when he was going to get to be alone like this again, especially after Shirou found out about it.

He got the address up on his phone. When he stepped out of the alley, it was in the direction of the station.

Chapter Text

The front door of Katsumi Orihara’s house was sleek and modern, much like the rest of the house itself. There were two cars parked in the driveway and a kids swing set pitched on the front lawn.

Izaya took a steadying breath and rapped his tender knuckles against the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time, in spite of the way it ached across his hand. He was exhausted from walking, and riding the overcrowded train halfway across town. And he was running out of time. He raised his hand to knock again when he heard the faint shuffle of slippers on the other side of the door. It unlatched, and from between a slim crack the face of a lady appeared.

“Can I help you?” She asked, dark hair falling down over her shoulder. He could tell by the way she was standing that she had something heavy in her other arm. Based on the way she kept glancing at it, bouncing slightly, Izaya assumed it was a baby.

“Sorry to bother you so suddenly,” Izaya apologised with a polite bow of his head. He smiled warmly. “My name is Izaya Orihara, Shirou’s son. I was hoping if my uncle is home that I might be able to speak with him.”

The woman looked confused, and then surprised, before both expressions were forced away for a polite smile. “Oh, I see,” She said, “How lovely to finally meet you Izaya-kun. Please, come inside.” She stepped back and opened the door invitingly. “My name is Akano.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Akano-san.” Izaya took a step through the door and saw that she was indeed carrying a baby. Maybe three months old. He wasn’t sure.

“And this is Chiaki,” She introduced the blubbery mess in her arms. Izaya smiled at her and the child. Akano closed the door behind him. “I thought you looked familiar,” She went on to say, as Izaya began toeing his shoes off in the entrance, “But you’re much older than you are in the few photos I've seen of you.”

“Well it’s been a while since my father has been close enough to take a photo of me.” He said it casually, without bitterness or sorrow, but Akano still looked at him with a pinch between her brows. It was now that she let her gaze linger on the bandages wrapping his arms and the bruises marring his face too. She pressed her lips together and looked away, like she was keeping herself from asking him about it.

“Please, take a seat.” She ushered him into what looked like the living room. “I’ll put some tea on and let Katsumi know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Izaya carefully placed himself on the couch. The angle pushed the hilt of the knife in his pocket up against his hip. As he sat, his gaze rolled around the house. It was nice; fancy but still homely. Family photos on the wall and a vase of fresh flowers at the table. He could tell they had money, and Izaya wondered if this brother made his the same way Shirou did.

“Izaya-kun.”

Izaya looked up as Katsumi came into the living area, surprise painting his unfamiliar features. “Katsumi-san,” He greeted, standing from the couch to bow politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Katsumi’s smile was strained as he eyed Izaya up and down. “We’ve actually met before,” He said, “Though you were probably too young to remember.” Izaya took his seat again; Katsumi took one in the armchair across from him. “It’s uncanny how much you’ve grown up to look like your father.”

Katsumi didn’t seem to notice Izaya’s smile turning brittle. For his part, he looked very different to the photo Izaya had last seen of him, and he’d grown up to look neither like Shirou nor Izaya’s grandfather. “Sorry for dropping by without saying anything. I had some free time on my hands suddenly and have been meaning to have a conversation with you.”

“That’s fine.” Kastumi looked at him curiously. “You are family after all.” Only in the very technical sense of the word, Izaya thought to himself. But he was hoping that counted for something. “I have to ask, were you in an accident?” He asked suddenly, concern furrowing his brows.

“Oh, yes,” Izaya answered with a sheepish grin. “Just a biking one. Don’t worry it looks worse than it is. I bruise quite easily.”

Katsumi looked unconvinced, but he was polite enough to pretend he believed him. “I wanted to offer my condolences,” He said sombrely, “I heard about Kyouko. I would have come to the funeral but we only met the once, and after what my brother did I thought it might have been insensitive.”