Summary: 17-year-old Masaomi Kida's life has spiraled out of control. He spends his nights drinking and partying, and his days working odd jobs and wasting time until evening comes. Izaya finds him drunk at a party and takes him to his apartment. He learns of Masaomi's problem, and makes helping Kida his new hobby—unknowing of the dangers that lie ahead, for both of them. **yaoi, dark themes

**Warnings: underage sex, underage drinking, attempted suicide, dark themes

This is a dark and angsty story. If you're bothered by any of the warnings I've listed above, I advise you not to read this. Otherwise, I hope you like it!

I still do not own Durarara! nor any of the characters.

~~I was fighting a losing battle from the start~~

Izaya is here. The man Kida had been avoiding for months was just across the room. He quickly darted to a place where he couldn't be spotted by the information broker. Izaya had ruined his life—he was the reason Kida had been partying and drinking away his pain. The informant was going to find Masaomi; it was only a matter of time before he was discovered. Rushing over to the bar, he ordered two shots and downed them. If he was forced into speaking with the man, he needed much more alcohol in his system to decrease the nervousness and fear he always had around Izaya.

When he was found, he was plastered. A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned around to see the face that haunted his dreams.

"Hello there, Masaomi-kun. Are you having a good time?" he asked in a cool, calculating voice, his lips stretching into a sly grin.

"H-Hi, Izaya-san. Yeah, I am. Um, what are you doing here? I didn't think you liked to party." He steadied himself against the bar and tried not to appear alarmed.

Izaya's smirk grew. "I came to see someone. I thought I'd check up on—" Kida paled halfway into the second statement. He turned around and took another shot as the older male finished speaking. "—one of my favorite humans."

"I-I see."

"Let's get away from the bar. It's too cramped." Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed the boy's wrist and dragged him towards the center of the room. By the time they arrived, Kida was stumbling and giggling.

"Masaomi-kun, how many drinks have you had?"

Kida smiled. "I dunno. I lost count after two or three~"

"Two or three what?"

The teen tapped his chin, a lazy smile still covering his face. "Hmm, shots or beer. Oh, wait—it was both. Haha! Have you been drinking too, Izaya-san?"

"I only drink in the comfort of my own home."

"Why? That's no fun! Here, have mine!" He shoved a cup of beer—that he'd taken before he was dragged away—in the man's face.

Izaya took it and set it down on a nearby table. "Two reasons. It could be spiked, or I could end up... Well, like you. Though, I'd probably just be kidnapped and interrogated—not as bad as what could happen to you."

"What do you mean?"

The raven stepped forward and ran his fingers through the golden hair. "You're completely drunk—off-balance, having trouble with vision and concentration, and unaware of possible dangers. Someone might see a cute, young blond like yourself and decide to take advantage of you. You could be forced to do a number of unpleasant things, and not be able to fight back; you're too weak right now."

Masaomi flinched away from the touch, his drunken smile fading. "W-Well, I'll be careful."

"Just to be safe, I'll stay with you until you sober up." He grasped the teen's hips and pulled him close.

Kida tried to squirm away. "That's kind of you, but it's really not necessary, Izaya-san."

"Oh, I'm not doing you a favor, Masaomi-kun. This is for my benefit," he whispered, breathing cool air onto the nervous boy's ear.

Kida's knees trembled, and he grabbed the raven's shoulders for support.

"Do you want to dance with me?" His red eyes pierced into unfocused chestnut irises. The boy was breaking down.

Looking up, he lost control of his vocal cords. "S-sure."

Izaya's hands slipped beneath the blond's shirt and held his waist. He guided the unsteady Kida to move with him to the beat, not surprised at the lack of protest. One hand subtly slithered to Masaomi's backside. The younger male didn't notice until he was groped.

"What are you doing?" Kida exclaimed, promptly returning the hand to his hip.

The informant grinned. "Tell me, Masaomi-kun, how do you feel about me?"

"Feel about you? Um… Well, you're kind of an ass," he replied frankly. He despised Izaya—loathed him, but every time he considered telling him off, he realized that Izaya would only be amused, so he always kept an air of formality between them. Even while drunk, he tried to stick to his resolve. Calling him a name was as far as he'd go.

Izaya laughed. "How cruel, Masaomi-kun. That can't be all, though. What do you truly think of me?"

When Kida drank and got into uncomfortable situations, he didn't consider the repercussions of what he said. Whatever he was thinking came out. "As much as I hate you, I can't help but sometimes think about how sexy you are." As soon as the words left his mouth, he firmly shut it to keep from saying anything else. He was never going to live this down. Izaya would use it against him in the worst ways imaginable.

"How interesting." The informant pressed their bodies together and bucked his pelvis against the younger male—who gasped. "Do you ever fantasize about me?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Thankfully, he gained some control over what he said. But when Izaya tightened his grip on his hips and rhythmically started to grind on him, he breathed out the truth. "Hnng—I mean, yes, I have a few times." Kida pushed back into him, moaning weakly.

Soft lips touched his, and he froze. After a few seconds, he allowed the man to kiss him. He attempted to move his pelvis and lips at the same time, but failed horribly. His head was spinning; he tuned out everything going on around him. Twining his arms around Izaya's neck, Kida focused solely on the velvety, sweet-tasting mouth against his. Hands roamed about his body, people brushed against him, the music blared, but he didn't notice any of it. Maybe it was the many drinks he'd had, but as he made out with the man whom he blamed for most of his problems—who deceived him and brought him pain he'd never felt before—he hoped their embrace never ended.

Izaya noticed the boy's complete concentration on the kiss. He was melting into his arms without regard to his—probably painful—tented crotch. No sounds escaped from his lips, and his arms lay still around his neck. He was only using his lips—no teeth or tongues were involved—yet the teen was falling to pieces. Curious, he broke their attachment, noting the whimper of disapproval, and moved to his ear to suggest, "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

Kida nodded. He was flushed and breathless.

The party was held in a large mansion. There were multiple rooms on the first floor and basement crowded with dancing, wasted teenagers and young adults. With an arm around his waist, Izaya ushered him into a home-theater room upstairs. The informant turned on the lights slightly so they were on a dim level. He looked around and was suddenly thrown onto a plush armchair. When he blinked, Masaomi was on his lap, straddling him.

"Izaya-san," the teen said. He realized that he didn't know what to say, so he simply sat back, gazing into the crimson eyes that had struck fear in him on numerous occasions.

The informant scanned the boy and finally realized his aim. It was clear in his expression. Chestnut eyes stared at him, silently pleading, 'Comfort me. I'm so lonely and confused. I'm barely holding myself together. I just want to forget about the pain—help me forget about everything."

"I'll help you," the raven whispered. He drew the blond closer and brushed through the golden hair.

Kida grabbed the older male's face and kissed him. It was more gradual and mellow than when Izaya had initiated. As quick as the kiss had started, it ended. The teen shut his eyes, his limp body falling forward.

Izaya sighed. "You really should learn how to hold your liquor, Masaomi-kun."

Kida stretched his arms and cracked open his eyes. When he sat up in his bed, he realized that it wasn't his bed—it wasn't his room. He looked around the black-and-white themed room and tried to figure out what was going on. His head hurt and his body felt sluggish, which was a familiar feeling to him. I'm hungover?

As the teen rubbed his head, he recalled what had happened the night before. I got plastered at that party and danced with—Izaya. Nononono. This can't be happening. He crawled out of the informant's bed in only boxers. He scanned the room again to see his clothing neatly folded on the nightstand. He quickly dressed, and then paced across the room. What happened?

An answer hit him, but he immediately shot it down. After a few seconds, he widened his eyes, realizing that his assumption was probably correct. He went over the vague events he remembered from the night before. I went to the party, danced with Izaya, made out with Izaya—shit. He didn't remember anything after that. He was locking lips with the man he despised one moment, and then woke up in his boxers in the informant's bed the next. Anger overwhelmed him; he stormed out of the room and flew down the stairs. He saw the man at his desk and stalked towards him.

"Why the hell am I at your place?" he demanded, his pitch at a high shout.

"Good morning to you too, Masaomi-kun," Izaya replied casually, typing away on his computer.

"What did you do to me?" he yelled. This statement got the raven's attention.

"I—"

"You took advantage of me! You knew I was drunk and couldn't fight you off, so you…so you…" Kida trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"It's impolite to jump to such an extreme conclusion, Masaomi-kun. I'll tell you what happened, but only if you agree to sit down and listen—calmly."

Reluctantly, the blond moved to the couch, carefully watching as the man sat in a spot perpendicular to him.

"I approached you at the party, when you happened to be plastered, and asked you to dance with me—we did. After making out for awhile, we went to a room upstairs, where you pushed me onto a couch, climbed on top of me, and then passed out. You were exhausted—I was just happy that you didn't throw up. Anyway, seeing as you weren't waking up anytime soon, and I couldn't leave you there, I carried you out of the party and to your house. You woke up after a bit and I explained that I was taking you home. Then you threw a fit about wanting to sleep at my place, so I let you. It was an entertaining walk, actually. The entire way there, you went on and on about my eyes and voice. Every once in awhile, you'd ask if we were going to hook up." He noticed the boy tense. "I denied you, of course. But you weren't taking no for an answer. You brought up some good points—saying that you had wet dreams about me bending you over my desk or tying you to the bed, and that you're of legal age now."

Blood rushed to Kida's cheeks. "I don't—"

The older male held up a hand. "Izaya-san is talking right now. You may speak once I finish." He cleared his throat. "When we got here, I thought you should probably take a shower, so I guided you into the bathroom. You kept trying to take off my and your clothes so we could take one together." The informant paused to glance at the teen's face. His embarrassed expressions were priceless. "Now, I wasn't going to allow you into my bed all sweaty, smelling like alcohol, so I made you a proposition. I said that, if you took a shower, I would sleep with you—sleep, not sex. You didn't think that was good enough, so I decided that making out for awhile would be fine if you agreed to clean yourself—by yourself."

Izaya placed his arms on top of the couch and leaned his head back. A devious smirk spread across his face. "For someone in your state, you were certainly forceful. You kept moving my hands to your lower regions, no matter how many times I pulled away. After a few minutes, I was tired of fighting off your advances, so I just let you move my hands around. I mean, since I wasn't in control, you might as well have been using your own hands." He sat up and glanced at the flushed boy with gleaming red eyes. "Masaomi-kun, how sexually active are you?"

"Wh-why do you want to know that?"

The raven's grin broadened. "I've been wondering if you're either inexperienced, or if I just really turn you on. You finished after humping my hand for about a minute. To be fair, you had my other hand rubbing your nipples, so there was extra stimulation."

"You… You did those things to me?" he asked feebly.

"No, you did those things to yourself with the use of my hands. I'll take full responsibility for the bruises and bites on your neck, though. After that, you washed up and fell asleep in the bed." He leaned forward. "That's it. You can speak now, Masaomi-kun."

Kida clenched his fists. "You sick bastard! I had no idea what was going on! How could you…molest me?" he yelled, bowing his head and shutting his eyes to keep from crying.

Izaya sighed. "As I said before, I did nothing other than kiss your lips and neck, allow you to use my hands as if I were a puppet, and offer you a shower and a bed. No clothes came off, and the only skin I touched was above your waist. Honestly, I'm offended that you think I'd take advantage of you. That's not my style."

"Okay," he replied reluctantly. "But you could've stopped me from doing…that in the bathroom."

"Yes, but you kept moaning and telling me—in great detail—about all the ways you pictured me taking you. It was incredibly difficult to avoid fucking you right there. You were begging me, Masaomi-kun. I'm a healthy man in his early twenties—a man with normal urges and needs. Do you really think I wouldn't be aroused by a cute teenager grinding against me, trying to remove my clothes, and saying, 'Izaya-san, I want to ride your cock on your desk chair until my body can't hold any more of your cum, and then deep throat you to get even more, no matter how many times I almost choke from how huge I'm sure you are'?"

Kida played with his hands uneasily, his face and neck burning. "I really said that?"

"Yes. Along with, 'Be so rough that the whole building hears my screams' and 'Fuck me hard enough to put me on bed rest for a week.'" Izaya scooted next to the boy. "Don't be too embarrassed. That's just what happens when teenagers drink too much. You weren't conscious of what you were saying. Then again, that means that your subconscious wants me to tie you up and fuck you for hours."

He couldn't have said those things. Sure, Izaya was attractive, but he'd only had those thoughts about him once or twice. He'd quickly discarded the idea of making a move after seeing Izaya's face in one of those dreams—those piercing red eyes and sardonic smirk. The expression he constantly wore unnerved Kida. "You're lying. I wouldn't have done those things. You're just trying to humiliate me. Well, I'm not buying it—nice try, though." Kida rose from his seat and turned his back on the man.

"I'm not lying," a cool voice replied.

The teen continued to look forward. "Prove it. Oh, wait, there's no way to prove it. I'm leaving now."

"A few months back, you picked up a guy at a bar who looked like me. You took him home and told him to call you 'Masaomi-kun.' You had him fuck you doggy style because you love the thought of submitting to me like a bitch in heat. The entire time, you moaned my name over and over until you finished. You described the experience as thrilling—the best you'd ever had."

Masaomi couldn't breathe. His face twisted into an expression of pure horror. He was paralyzed in his spot next to the couch, staring out the large windows. A body pressed against his back; hands slithered around his hips to his navel, thumbs hooking into his belt loops; hot breath tickled his neck. But he didn't move—he couldn't.

"Do you believe me now?" a deep voice questioned, lips touching the shell of his ear.

He didn't have the energy to lie. "How did you know that?" His voice was a whisper, a barely audible exhalation.

"You told me."

The teen let himself be dragged onto the couch. Izaya sat the boy between his legs and rested his hands on Kida's upper thighs—unmoving, but suggestive. "Hey, Masaomi-kun, now that you're sober, I'd be happy to indulge one—or more—of your fantasies," he whispered seductively, blowing into the boy's ear.

Kida abruptly snapped out of his daze and regained control of his voice. He had to fight this—regardless of how embarrassed he was. "N-no way! I sometimes get horny when I'm drunk—and I suppose you're fairly attractive—but I don't want to have sex with you. That was months ago—I've lost interest in you now. I can't stand you."

"Don't be like that, Masaomi-kun. You know you want it." He slid his hands along the teen's thighs.

"No, I really don't." He attempted to squirm out of the man's grasp. "Let me go, bastard!"

"Tell me, why were you drinking so much if you went to the party alone? That's simply reckless. What if someone with bad intentions got to you before I did?"

"You did—do have bad intentions." He stopped struggling, letting out an annoyed sigh when he realized that he wasn't leaving if Izaya wanted him to stay.

"Did I? I carried you to your place when you passed out, redirected us to my place when you started crying about not wanting to be alone again, gave you food, let you use my shower, and allowed you to sleep in my bed. I fail to see how any of that had foul intent." Izaya bent his head to suck on the blond's neck.

Kida laughed, slightly tilting his head to let the man continue his work. "You're more transparent than you'd like to believe, Izaya-san. You're like any other guy—you're just trying to get laid. You brought me here last night and didn't take advantage of me so that you could get sex in the morning by explaining how you selflessly took care of me. I'm not going to sleep with you out of gratitude, because that's what you've been planning since you saw me at the party."

"You've just demonstrated all of the reasons why I've taken an interest in you, Masaomi-kun. You're intelligent and quick-witted—using prior knowledge about a person to make sense of a situation. You're angry, embarrassed, and annoyed, but you push past these to mouth off to me. It's obvious that you want to hit me and then run home, but you're holding it in well—for the time being. Lastly, although you stated that you don't want to have sex, you aren't stopping me from biting your neck and feeling you up. You're far too prideful to ask for it, or even admit how frustrated you are, so you're sitting back and simply not refusing me. You're so stubborn—I love chasing after you."

"I'm not refusing you because what you're doing is harmless. I don't care if you give me a hickey or touch my upper body—it's not leading to anything. I do this kind of thing all the time; it's meaningless, so don't read into it," he declared blandly.

"Did you just call yourself a whore?"

"What? No!"

"You said you do this all the time." Izaya put the pieces together. "Is this what you've become? You drink until you're completely wasted and go home with some random guy? It makes sense that you were able to drink so much without throwing up, then. Your stomach must be used to the large amounts of alcohol by now."

The blond froze, trying not to signal anything. He hadn't expected Izaya to catch on so quickly—or at all. He just hoped that the man didn't figure out anything more.

"What made you adopt this lifestyle?" He stroked the golden hair affectionately. "A bad breakup? Strained friendship? By knowing when it started, we can infer… Ah, I think I understand. It's been like this for a few months now, right?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Everything has come crashing down. You're still guilty about Saki-chan, struggling to control your gang, disappointed in yourself for dropping out of Raira, and sick of being a third wheel to your boring, unassuming friends. Instead of dealing with your problems, you're using alcohol and sex as coping mechanisms, pretending as if they're nonexistent."

"Shut up," Masaomi protested weakly.

"You really should stop this and cope in a healthier way. By not dealing with your emotions, they're building up inside of you, leading to deeper self-loathing and depression. One of these days, something will remind you of one of the issues you refuse to acknowledge, and you'll snap. You'll spiral out of control, drinking day and night, turning to drugs when the booze doesn't work anymore; you'll be with some random person nearly every night, waking up in strange places with no memory of the night before. You think you hate yourself now? Keep heading down this path and you'll despise yourself more than you ever thought possible."

"Shut up!" Kida exclaimed, shaking and breathing heavily. He tore Izaya's arms away and stood, clenching his fists as his angered copper eyes locked on inquisitive crimson irises. "You don't know my life! You are a disgusting, cruel person who never realizes when he's gone too far—or you don't care. Everything is a game to you! I may have been influenced by you when I was younger, but I know better now. I won't let you hurt me again!" Izaya raised his eyebrows at the last statement, curiously analyzing the boy's desperate expression and unstable demeanor.

"I won't! I'm not going to get involved with you again because you make everything worse. Leave me alone! Why can't you leave me alone?" The teen dropped to his knees, bowing his head to hide his teary eyes. "You've already taken everything from me," he finished quietly.

"Masaomi-kun—"

Kida jumped to his feet, sniffling, and exited the apartment. He lingered in the doorway. "Don't talk to me anymore. I never want to see you again."