Title: Kind of Sweet
Summary: "I don't like it when other guys stare at you." Izanami. AU, chaptered high-school fic
Genre: Humor/Romance
Disclaimer: I don't own DRRR!
Notes: Just for fun. A change of pace. Oh, crack, how I've missed writing you. Hmm. I'll probably play with this idea a lot or something, but I'm not really sure yet. It's AU—like completely, by the way.
In this AU: I've taken the liberty to make Izaya and Namie childhood friends. Tell me what you think.

It was currently 4:45 in the morning.

Izaya stared tiredly at the wall in front of him, loosely gripping a trowel in his hand. His other hand held a slab of drying cement, which he carelessly threw aside on top of some newspapers before he flopped lazily unto the ground, head resting against some lockers.

4:45 in the god-damned morning. Fucking hell. He'd never woken up so early on the weekends just to freaking cement over a hole in the girl's locker room. Or, try he'd never woken up that early before in his life to do anything. Period.

He felt exhausted, dirty; beads of sweat rolled down the side of his temple as he glared at the cement, willing it to dry faster before school started.

It had taken him a couple of tries just to make the bloody thing look decent, and if it didn't dry in time for its purpose in the first fucking place, he'd kill something. Kick a dog, maybe, or push an old woman into traffic, just out of pure spite.

Izaya rubbed a hand over his face, then immediately scowled when he realized that there were still some traces of cement in them. He cursed again. As if his day couldn't get any better.

The listless tired boy closed his eyes, too worn down to even wonder why he was doing this in the first place, and just hadn't gone and paid some poor schmuck to do it. Heaven knew he had better things to do than waste his time here. Like sleep. Terrorize people, steal candy from children. Sleep.

Well, he supposed it was kind of worth it, in a way.

Some weeks prior...

"When I said you were gay, I actually meant that you were happy, Shizu-chan—" Izaya tried, and was instantly rewarded with a fist almost connecting with his face.

He leaped away in time though, the fist instead punching a hole into the tiled wall next to him. Eyes flitting up in mild amazement, he wasted no more time in propelling himself up from his cornered position and quickly darted past under the blond's arm, shooting up and swerving around with an effortless grin.

Smug yet reserved, his expression portrayed that one of the fox dancing circles around the lion. "Better luck next time," The boy drawled mockingly, smiling. Though his eyes hovered over the punch in the wall for a slight second, whistling slowly. "Damn."

This little catastrophe of a scene had happened on Monday, the second week since school had started, somewhere outside the Gym.

It was only a few weeks ago, though looking back now, Izaya supposed—supposed, you know, not blatantly admit—that maybe, maybe, what had happened was sort of his fault.

But if it was his fault, then it was even more of the blond imbecile's fault for frigging throwing a punch at the wall, and actually being able to make a hole through the other side of the room.

It was either the boy was on some steroids that were on steroids, or their school was made out of play-doh. Hard choice, really.

And—okay, fine. Maybe he should've told a teacher or something—or hell, even the janitor, when he noticed that there was a fucking hole in the wall, but really—one step in the peripheral vision of an administrator and they either ran away screaming for help, or tried to chase him with expulsion papers.

Besides, once the words "Oh, isn't that the girl's locker room?" left his lips, the boys had immediately started to crowd around it like a pack of rabid dogs with a single bone, and Shizuo was still there, still kind of hell-bent on breaking his face—and so excuse him if he wanted to live past fifteen and keep his nose from being disfigured. What, was it a crime to try and stay beautiful now?

Though one sentence abruptly sent all these superficial thoughts out the window, making him suddenly pause and barely manage to escape the garbage can that would've connected with his head if he was just a few inches out of place.

"Looks like Mother Nature was seriously nice to her." One of the boys suddenly erupted, whistling appreciatively.

Izaya's brow arched at this, immediately curious because he couldn't see what they were looking at—or technically, who they were looking at. Always one to join the latest trends, he quickly sauntered over to the busted wall, interest perked.

"Who are we talking about?" He asked cheerfully, the crowd of people turning into his direction in surprise as he stepped closer and peered into the hole. The boy from earlier, however, merely waggled his brows, as if he could see it, dumbass, and replied in a suggestive tone.

"Chick on the left, one with the long, black hair. Smoking hot. Like almost on fire."

"On the left, huh?" Izaya repeated softly, bending down and leaning in closer to the wall. The second his eyes moved to the mentioned girl, however, his head had abruptly jerked back, almost colliding with the boy behind him.

"What's the matter? Is she that good?" Another boy piped up. Izaya rapidly extended an arm, halting him before he could even get a glimpse into the hole. The rest of the boys stared at him oddly, their bewildered expressions quickly snapping him out of his startled gaze.

He cleared his throat, and straightened his red shirt in a confident manner as if he had meant to do that. He flashed them a brilliant smile. "Actually, I know her." He said, gaining their respect completely.

"For real?" The boy from earlier stared at him, wide-eyed, and Izaya gave him a pointed look, disliking his ardent expression. He immediately changed personalities, however; a wide grin instead replacing his mild resentment as he grabbed the male by the neck and threw a hand over his shoulder, urging him into a walk.

"I can even introduce you to her, if you want." Izaya offered pleasantly. The boy's eyes shone up at him brightly, like a child during Christmas, which in turn made the black-haired boy grimace. Izaya pushed his eager face away, frowning. "Okay, kid, she's not that great." He muttered, dropping his arm from the boy's shoulder.

"I'll tell you what, though—" Izaya once again started, and raised his index finger, as if to point out an important fact when he suddenly felt the familiar gust of wind of, say—a trashcan, just a wild guess here—making its way towards him.

He, of course, had immediately jumped out of its trajectory at the barest nanosecond, -accidentally- leaving it open for his companion, who wasn't even warned that there was a fucking trashcan about to make its way towards him at fifty-five miles per hour. The garbage-can rushed towards the boy, who was rapidly swept off of his feet before crash-landing harshly unto the dirt. Izaya gave a dramatic gasp.

"Whoa—that was frightening!" The black-haired boy exclaimed, dashing at his fallen comrade. "You okay, Hiromi—"

"Hiroshi."

"Right, whatever." Izaya said, waving the matter off as if it wasn't important. Though, surprisingly, he was gentlemanly enough to help the boy stagger up on his feet again. The boy, now dubbed Hiroshi, gazed wildly at his surroundings.

"W-what was that?" He sputtered, eyes wide.

Izaya blinked. "What was what?"

"What hit me in the head? It hurt so much—"

"Oh. That was a trashcan."

"A... a trashcan? What? Why was I hit with a trashcan—?"

"You probably pissed Shizu-chan off." Izaya supplied helpfully. "I'd advice you not to do that often, but it does have its fun quirks."

"Uh-huh..." Hiroshi mumbled, still a bit dazed. He was a bit perplexed as to why Shizuo might've been angry towards him, and only continued gazing at Izaya confusedly. Hiroshi should've known already, though, that the black-haired boy was known as someone who seemed to attract a ridiculous amount of large, blunt objects— varying from a trashcan, to a vending machine, to a torn locker. He was also known as the one person that Shizuo excessively loathed, and was even more known as being an astoundingly massive prick. So yeah.

Izaya had merely smiled at him, however, before resuming to speak again, as if nothing had even happened. "So, anyway, about that introduction—"

"... what introduction?" Hiroshi recited, at a complete loss.

The boy's smile split into a satisfied grin, and he stifled a sudden laugh. "It's nothing, never-mind." He said, dismissing the matter and skipping away. "Oh, and if Shizu-chan asks where I am, just tell him I said thanks."

So, what are our thoughts on this? Do we like it?

Don't worry if it doesn't make complete sense yet... it will. (x