Mixed Signals

"If you weren't you I'd call an ambulance, but," Shinra snipped the suture thread, tossing the used needle into a plastic bag atop the bloodied hand towels, "I think you'll be fine. Just don't do anything strenuous for the next few days until it's closed up."

Shizuo grimaced as he pulled his shirt back on, skin tugging painfully around his freshly stitched wound, side itching with heat and a million tiny pinpricks of pain. Laid out on his couch, light-years away from comfortable, he sighed a quiet, "Thanks." His eyes settled on the popcorn ceiling, desperate for something to look at other than Shinra's concerned stare.

Shinra decided to busy himself with his medical supplies because every time his eyes met Shizuo's something in his gut felt like it was being stepped on, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. "You've had quite an eventful day."

The left side of Shizuo's face was gradually swelling, the shade of a nasty bruise beginning to manifest beneath the deep cut left by Izaya's ring. He didn't pay it much attention. "Yeah."

Taking out a full roll of gauze, antiseptic, and some tiny squares of cotton, Shinra dampened a square before holding out his hand expectantly.

Without issue, Shizuo presented his right hand first, busted knuckles unashamedly red and glowing. The first contact of the antiseptic normally made him hiss, but he welcomed the burn of warmth that followed. Reticent leonine focused a quiet gaze on the brunette beside him, watching as his closest friend worked at patching up the physical proof of his shame. Shinra's hands were soft, warm, and steady as they made clean work of bandaging Shizuo's knuckles, careful to avoid touching any open abrasions.

Shinra rarely spoke while he was working, preferring to absorb himself in his task with an expert dedication that belied his age and high-spirited countenance. This particular quiet always put Shizuo on edge because he knew what was coming. Questions, a hundred of them, each brutal, shamelessly prying, and always, always, about Izaya.

"She told me what happened," Shinra divulged when he was finished and had begun to pack away his supplies. Shizuo made no sound in reply, so the other teen continued. "Don't do this again. Hurting yourself over him isn't an option that me, Celty, or your brother are going to stand by."

Shinra glanced up only to find Shizuo staring at his lap, eyes lowered in barefaced guilt.

Taking up the box of cigarettes from the coffee table and feeling like a terrible doctor, Shinra offered them to the despondent blond and remained quiet as Shizuo lit a cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke towards the ceiling.

"Sorry," he eventually sighed. "Just had a real shitty day."

Feeling better now that Shizuo was finally speaking in semi-full sentences again, Shinra relaxed his position on the carpet, leaning an elbow on the same cushion Shizuo was resting upon. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A snort, derisive. "No." Another drag, thick vapor filling hungry lungs, a smoky exhale.

"You should, you know? I can help you get through this."

"'Cause you have so much experience with rejection, right?"

"I don't," Shinra replied agreeably before making his point, "But neither do you."

Shizuo paused, finally calm enough to meet his friend's gaze. "That a joke? You think I'm in any kind of mood for this, Shinra?" No experience with rejection, his ass. Sure, it wasn't a direct no I will never return your feelings, but being punched in the face wasn't exactly beating around the bush.

The interim doctor rolled his eyes. "You never want to talk about Izaya with me." The words came out sounding almost like a whine, the shorter teen more-than-slightly aggravated that his best friend was still choosing to leave him in the dark. "You're missing out. I know more about him than anyone. I can tell you things."

"Don't wanna hear it," Shizuo lied, mashing his cigarette into a glass ashtray. "So just shut the hell up."

The brunette smiled. "Oh, really? So I suppose it wouldn't interest you to know that he's a very, very light sleeper, or that he hates sweets and that his favorite food is—"

"I said I didn't wanna fuckin' hear it."

Concern shadowed Shinra's face, his usual smile unable to make an appearance.

There you go, just upsetting people again. Dropping his gaze and his anger with it, Shizuo's head fell forward, a curtain of blond disguising his expression. "Sorry, it's just—"

I hate you, Shizu-chan.

"—hard."

The quiet stretched on, neither moving, neither looking up.

It was like someone had passed away. Something. Either way he couldn't shake the ache of absence. Everything felt empty, odd, off-center. Everything except his body, which was tired, leaden, giving him every reason to believe that if he stood in one place long enough he might just sink into the ground. He was himself, just less. His brain wasn't sitting correctly in his skull. Something had lodged it out of place, and it was all he could do to think straight.

The world just felt detached, like he was watching his own life through a television screen, experiencing it secondhand.

Guess this was what accepting the truth felt like.

Vacant.

"I think I'm just gonna stop," he breathed, the words feeling transparent, the afterimage of a smoky exhale, blank of expression.

"Stop what?"

"Wanting him, I guess." A shrug was attempted.

"Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I just—" He drew out another cigarette. His lighter. Listened to the gentle flick and watched the tiny flame dance into existence, warming the end of a slender stick, "Need a better distraction. Something to do."

Brown eyes leveled the blond, studying him quietly. "I don't think that's—"

"Healthy?" Shizuo felt like he might be smiling. Wasn't sure. "I just bled myself unconscious, Shinra, and it's not the first time. That can't be healthy either."

"Yes, but physical injuries can be healed rather easily. Suppressing your emotions is extremely damaging to your mental state, Shizuo."

This time he laughed, just a small puff of humorless air. "I don't think it can get any worse."

Shinra watched, bothered by the lack of animation in his best friend's eyes as he stared emptily at his burning cigarette. He didn't know what to say. What he could say. This pain transcended any sort of personal experience he was familiar with. No one quite knew rejection like Shizuo, and who was he to advise him on how to deal with it? He, who had the woman he wanted within his reach, who had the privilege of knowing that the one he loved enjoyed his presence and desired his happiness? Their situations were incomparable, their understanding of the world entirely dissimilar.

"I told him it could be different for us, and he said it couldn't." Shizuo brought the cigarette to his lips, felt the thin paper slide against his mouth. Inhaled, exhaled, repeated. "So exactly what are my options?"

Shinra stayed quiet, absorbing the situation and the extent to which Shizuo was suffering, which exceeded any of his previous assumptions. He was surprised when the blond moved to stand, pulling himself off the couch as if he hadn't been recently stitched like a badly beaten ragdoll.

"I'll be fine, alright? You guys don't need to worry about me."

Utterly doubtful, Shinra stood, eyes meeting unresponsive hazel. "Will you?"

No. "Yeah. Just," A stream of smoke curled and dissipated into the air, "Give me some time. It'll get easier."

It wouldn't. Shinra knew, and from the look in Shizuo's eyes, so did he. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder and offering his worst attempt yet at a smile. As if he could convince anyone. "I'll figure it out."

A dead cigarette was flicked into the dirt of a potted plant, the end blackened, put out before it ever had a chance to burn. Shinra stared at it, considering the idea that fate just might have a horrible sense of humor.

Saturday night and Shizuo currently found himself sitting across from Mari in some unimpressive burger joint in Ikebukuro. Having little money regrettably translated into a cheap date, and he was more than half hoping that Mari was as understanding as she was attractive, because otherwise this date was going to be real shitty.

Well, more shitty.

Biting into his burger, he held back a grimace as the left side of his face ached in protest. The cut Izaya's ring had left had healed quick enough, but unfortunately the bruise seemed to have unfinished business with his cheek. No doubt under the cheap fluorescence of the restaurant lighting the yellowing bruise looked even more sickly than usual, clashing all sorts of bad with his gold hair and warm skin. People already mistook him for a miscreant, and his busted face definitely wasn't helping matters.

It was also a hard task to try and deny that he and Mari didn't make an odd pair. There he was looking all sorts of grisly sitting across from the prettiest girl for miles, the two of them receiving the occasional curious looks from surrounding diners who were probably wondering which of her family members he'd threatened in order to get this date.

Shizuo chanced a glance at her, his attention immediately landing on the soft swell of cleavage peeking from the top of her dress.

"Heiwajima-kun?"

Shit.

Face burning, his eyes rose to meet hers, fearing she'd noticed where he'd been looking.

She smiled gently. "You're being really quiet. Are you okay?"

That seemed to be the question of the week, and the answer was a definitive no. Hell, when was his answer anything else? Thankfully she hadn't asked him about his bandages or why the left side of his face looked like a kindergartener's watercolor art project. She probably already knew anyway. Everyone knew.

"Sorry," he apologized, taking a sip of his milkshake for something to do, hoping to unload some of this disquiet. "Not sure how to do this."

Nibbling on a golden fry, she grinned. "Am I that intimidating?"

Something about her casualty relaxed him enough to respond with a half-grin of his own. "Nah, just don't talk to many girls."

"Well, don't think of me as a girl, then. I'm just another person, same as anyone else."

Easy enough in theory, but she had no idea how much of a struggle this was for him. Personal issues aside, Shizuo wasn't exactly a social butterfly and his interests weren't all that extensive. It was almost ironic that the branded 'beast of Ikebukuro' just so happened to be the most boring guy in all of Japan. Despite the rumors, he didn't go around hanging with yakuza, gleefully chomping on the bones of his enemies as he rolled severed heads into the Tokyo Bay. Those sorts of activities were more along the lines of something Izaya would be into—the fuckin' lunatic.

"Alright."

Hiding her smile behind a raised hand, Mari laughed, the sound musical and delicate. "I can't tell if you're really shy or just really nervous."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," she chastised lightly. "It's cute."

The compliments were another thing making him uneasy, and Mari seemed to be throwing all she had at him and he knew fuck all what to do about it but sit there awkwardly and stare at the table like some dysfunctional weirdo.

Dating was way too damn hard. He wasn't cut out for little movie nights, candlelit dinners and walking through parks. And if that's what she expected of him, she was going to be sorely disappointed.

Atop the table, Mari's cell buzzed to life, bursts of LED lighting blinking behind a soft pink casing.

A distraction and a welcomed one.

Flipping it open she read the message from her lovely employer informing her that she was being watched. Spied upon. An indignant scowl ruined her pretty smile as she typed out a terse reply.

Mari drew her attention back to her date, forcing a tense smile. "Sorry. My mom is just very protective and sometimes it gets a little annoying." Hiding her unease behind another helping of greasy fries, she glanced down when she received Izaya's reply.

Feeling awkward that she seemed more focused on her phone than on him (not that he was surprised), Shizuo found himself doing the same, if only to busy his hands and take his mind off his own inadequacy. Having set his phone on silent because he didn't need it interrupting them, he hadn't noticed the unread message in his inbox.

The number was unknown. [Good luck on your date, Shizu-chan~ Try not to embarrass yourself too much.]

There was only one person that called him by that stupid name, and it was the last person he needed to think about right now.

All he had to do was delete the message, close his phone, and forget. Breathe. Think about something else. The girl sitting before him, all dolled up and perfect. His food. Any one of his injuries. But his body, as usual, had a mind of its own, and with a numb sense of awareness he watched his thumb type a response and press 'send'. [How did you get my number?]

Suddenly he was reminded that he had a heartbeat and it thudded excitedly against his ribs, making the stitches on his side pulse angrily beneath a thin layer of bandaging. He watched his phone. Waited.

It vibrated in his palm and he opened the message. [Shinra, of course. I've had it for a while, ne. But speaking to you isn't exactly stimulating conversation.]

A growl caught in his throat, his pride deciding he should take offense. [Bullshit.]

Izaya's reply was instant. [I rest my case.]

A tiny heart punctuated the end of the message and Shizuo stared at it, knowing full well that it didn't mean anything but remained unable to look away.

Pocketing his phone, suddenly feeling weighed down and tired, he raised his eyes to the girl sitting across from him, watched the sparkly charm dangling from her phone sway as she finished typing a message.

"Sorry, I need to make a phone call," Mari said when she noticed Shizuo waiting.

Understanding she wanted a little privacy, he stood, taking the tray carrying their trash with him. "I'll wait outside."

She offered him an appreciative smile as he left.

The street was teeming with people and he found refuge beneath the restaurant awning, lit a cigarette and leaned back against unpolished glass to watch passerby.

It was crowded, like always. People glanced at him and he hated it, as usual. Nothing was different. The air was stale with exhaust, stirred with noise. The tender skin beneath his eye continued to pulse. The pain made him think of Izaya.

He tried to focus on the couples walking by. Tried to study how to be with another person. How to be familiar and gentle, sweet and intimate in all the ways he didn't know how.

His attention was caught by a head of midnight hair, and his thoughts once again went where they shouldn't, his mind conditioned to always, always think of him.

"I-," he pulled his cigarette from his mouth, "-za-" tapped the ash onto the concrete, "-ya," and hated the way his heart began to stutter. He mouthed the flea's name again, quieter, staring vacantly at the unpolished toes of his shoes, hating even more how much he missed saying that name to the person it belonged to.

He sighed, knowing it was dangerous to start thinking about all the things he wanted; all the things he'd never have.

Focus on the good, he commanded, doing his best to heed Celty and Shinra's advice.

His gaze flickered to the entrance of the restaurant and all he could think was that he didn't want to do this. Didn't want to be here, with her, forcing himself.

Izaya, he thought again, and again, and again. His eyes moved to find another head of midnight hair. His cheek throbbed, his heart continued to race.

Dating Mari wasn't going to help him. She wasn't going to make anything better. He knew that, and yet he was still here, because doing something at least made him feel like he was trying. Running away was a whole lot easier on his conscience than just standing still and waiting to be bowled over.

Cowardice had never suited anyone more.

"Sorry about that. She probably would've come with us if I'd let her." Pleasant brown eyes met his, and Shizuo snuffed his cigarette beneath the sole of his shoe as Mari came to stand by his side, her smile warm, countenance welcoming and uncomplicated. "If we hurry I think we'll just make the opening previews," she continued, casually winding her arm around his and gently guiding him into the crowd.

Shizuo glanced down at their linked arms, at the way her tiny hand so easily grasped his forearm. Eventually their pacing fell in sync, their footsteps a little less awkward. The touch made him feel nothing, and he wondered if it was supposed to.

They continued on in silence, and it was as they neared the theater that he realized this was it for him.

He tried to rouse his interest by concentrating on how soft her skin felt, how warm her touch was against his arm. Tentatively he leaned closer, just enough to feel her shoulder brush his, noticing the way her fingers pressed into his skin in response. Sensing his gaze, her eyes moved to his and she smiled.

He glanced away, uncomfortable, his gaze briefly meeting that of a stranger, the light from a nearby café reflecting crimson in eyes that were too round to be familiar.

His heart slammed against his wounded ribcage.

It was like observing animals in a zoo, and Izaya really had no idea why he expected anything different. As predicted, Shizuo was proving to be quite the boring date for poor little Mari-chan. He'd always suspected the brute lacked any sort of awareness when it came to socializing with the opposite sex, but tonight he hadn't even met Izaya's exorbitantly low expectations.

Admittedly, he was surprised to see the two walking together with linked arms. Of course it was all Mari's doing, but still, the protozoan was allowing it. Shizuo never allowed anyone other than a very select few to step so close unless he trusted them, which meant that this date was going far better than Izaya was willing to admit.

Equally trying was Mari's refusal to look at her phone. He must've annoyed her. It was true that spying on her had never been part of the deal, but seeing as he hadn't bothered procuring a contract to delegate boundaries, Izaya didn't consider this infringing on any sort of rights.

So he made himself quite comfortable on a bench across the street, the hood of his newly purchased jacket the perfect way to mask his face should Shizuo grow curious and glance over. Not that he would. The idiot was probably too concerned with the girl at his side. It was like giving a puppy to a toddler and expecting them to know how to take care of it. Shizu-chan was absolutely clueless, and in his own way, all the more adorable.

Because he's pathetic, ne?

"Izaya?" A voice, deep and familiar, cut like a hot knife into his concentration. "What're you doing here?"

The raven-haired teen tensed before glancing over at the brunette who'd just taken the seat beside him. He relaxed, eyes returning to Shizuo and Mari. "Nothing at all, Dota-chin."

Having known Izaya for a couple of years, Kadota wasn't near naïve enough to believe that. He also knew that asking was pointless. "New jacket?"

Delighted his companion had noticed, Izaya removed his hood to reveal a pleased smile. "It was very expensive."

"I don't doubt it." Following Izaya's line of sight, Kadota sighed. Should've known. "So you're watching Shizuo, huh?"

Lip curling, Izaya stretched a pale finger over his mouth. "Just having a little fun, ne."

The taller teen shook his head. "You have a weird definition of fun."

They settled into a familiar silence, both watching as the two across the street slowly approached the box office for tickets. Izaya observant, Kadota contemplative. The medical tape on Izaya's face and the remnants of a healing bruise hadn't gone unnoticed. Neither had Shizuo's, and it didn't take a genius to connect the dots.

Unfortunately, connecting the dots was all Kadota would be allowed, because asking questions rarely got him or anyone else anywhere when it came to Izaya. The guy was a pro at talking in circles, skirting around the point so gracefully that by the end of the conversation he'd end up with only more questions than he started with, and zero answers. If asked about unimportant things, Izaya was an open book. But ask him about Shizuo and it was like having a door slammed in your face. Kadota could practically hear the sound of a lock clicking into place.

"So that's the girl everyone's been talking about?" He wasn't personally one to take any notice of gossip, but when news reached him that some girl had confessed to the infamous beast of Raijin, he couldn't help but be curious. Suddenly he was feeling a little guilty that he was so quick to doubt the rumor, thinking no one would dare try and date Shizuo. Not just because his strength was something to consider, but it was a known fact he carried a lot of undesirable baggage, the skinny teen to his left being part of it. If you wanted Shizuo, you had to be willing to deal with Izaya too, and not his nice side, either.

Kadota could honestly say he felt sorry for the girl, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Izaya stepped in to reclaim what was 'his'. And he would do so, making sure to be as cruel as possible. Izaya, after all, wasn't the type to just hit and run without first twisting the knife.

Izaya's smile stretched, the expression nearing spite. "That's the one. She's pretty, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she actually is."

"It's a shame she has such poor taste."

Kadota's eyes narrowed. "You're not planning on trying to take her from—"

"You know I don't date, Dota-chin. It's against my rules."

Rules. Right. "You have more girlfriends than I have fingers."

Slim shoulders shrugged. "I'm sure they're aware it's one-sided. If they choose to devote themselves to me, I'll take advantage. It's not as if their feelings are sincere, ne. As long as I give them the illusion that I care, they'll do whatever I ask them to. It's a win-win."

The brunette shook his head, smiling dryly. "You're so lucky, and you don't even know it."

"Lucky?" Izaya repeated, smile disappearing, voice chilled. "No, Dota-chin, I'm not lucky. I just know how to get what I want in order to accomplish what I need. It's not luck, it's talent."

"Yeah, well, having your face has to help."

Grin returning, Izaya turned his full attention on the other teen, taking a moment to admire a face that was quite good-looking in its own respect. "You're not about to confess to me too, are you?"

Disgust wiped all amusement off of Kadota's face and he leaned away. "I don't swing that way, man." And then, as if the thought just occurred to him, he asked, "Do you?"

Again, Izaya shrugged, unrestrained gaze drifting to Shizuo. "If I thought it was worth it, I might."

Kadota paused, unsure he wanted to know, too curious to wave it off. "And what does that mean?"

"I don't do anything unless there's something to gain from it. That includes sex, Dota-chin."

He wasn't sure why this surprised him because it made perfect sense given it was Izaya he was speaking to and the guy's brain didn't exactly function like everyone else's. Still, it was difficult to believe that a guy who was always surrounded by girls would have no interest in pursuing even a physical relationship. "It feels good."

"Not much more than my hand." As he said this, his eyes roamed over Shizuo's back, recalling the sight of scarred skin, hard muscle, the sharp feel of those hipbones pressed between his thighs.

Aggravated, he looked away.

Kadota shook his head. "That's sort of depressing, Izaya."

"What's depressing is needing to rely on someone else to gratify your needs, Dota-chin. It's much more efficient to only need oneself, don't you think? A child learns to feed, bathe, and ultimately satisfy itself. I see no reason why, as adults, the progression towards total independence should stop, ne."

"Nah, that sounds kind of lonely."

Izaya's shoulder lifted in a shrug that almost managed expression.

Changing the subject, because talking about Izaya's libido wasn't exactly his favorite topic of conversation, Kadota inquired gracelessly, "So, why exactly are you stalking them?"

"Observing," Izaya corrected smoothly before lying through his impeccably aligned teeth, "Obviously I had to see for myself just how stupid this girl was to want to date Shizu-chan."

You always have an excuse. Removing his hat, Kadota studied it before replying, discomfort evident in the gruff tenor of his voice, "I know you disagree, but Shizuo's an alright guy. I don't think it's stupid that a girl likes him."

As was usually the case when someone complimented the protozoan, Izaya couldn't contain his displeasure, tongue clicking loudly against his teeth. "I'm aware he's kind. That doesn't change the fact he's a monster, does it?"

Brown eyes lifted to the blond teen that was his friend and classmate. "Y'know, Izaya, you're—"

"Tell me I'm wrong, Dota-chin, and I will lose all value for your opinion."

"You're unfair," he finished firmly. "Shizuo's not the only one with issues, and he's a better guy than most of the people you associate with."

Crimson eyes rolled in their sockets. "If you're asking me to join the Shizuo Heiwajima fan club, I'll have to decline. Shinra's already tried to recruit me, and he's much more clever than you."

Kadota smiled, the expression lacking humor. "If there was a Shizuo fan club, you'd be the damn founder. No one is as obsessed with the guy as you are."

Immediately growing defensive, Izaya's lips thinned, unable to deny a claim that was a little too accurate. "I only hate him. I'd advise you to stop purposefully misinterpreting my actions, ne."

"And I'm only telling you that I don't buy your story."

Knowing precisely where this conversation was directed, Izaya sighed, forcing casualness into his demeanor though he felt none. He was too on edge, this feeling of someone trying to figure him out prompting him to build a bigger, stronger wall for his defenses. And he already felt as if he'd said too much. "We're not going to have that 'you're in denial' talk again, are we? It's useless."

Resting back against the bench, Kadota watched as people walked past, all unaware that their every movement was being observed and analyzed by an ever-watchful pair of crimson eyes. "We could."

Izaya remained quiet, telling himself he had no interest in such a conversation, knowing full well he didn't trust how he might respond. It was no surprise that his least favorite topic of discussion was Shizuo, but that had less to do with his loathing for the blond than it did the fact that his every word had to be selected carefully, his phrasing and tone monitored constantly, because it really was easy to misinterpret his feelings.

Too easy, and he was tired of correcting everyone.

"But I don't think you're in denial; I just think you're a coward."

Ruby eyes swore vengeance as they met unyielding, perceptive brown. "I've managed to harm the most indestructible beast in Ikebukuro. Doing the same to you would be far from a challenge."

Understanding that was his cue to leave, Kadota drew himself from the bench, returning his hat to his head. And then his eyes moved back to Shizuo, watching as the girl at his side shuffled closer, stealing tiny glances.

As he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost tentative. "I don't know if you consider us friends, but I'm going to speak to you like we are." His attention moved back to Izaya, holding a stare that promised death should he say what he was going to say anyway. "That girl he's with, he might end up dating. If he does and you don't like it, don't screw it up for him just because you didn't take your chance when you had it."

Oh god, how in the world did he ever consider Dota-chin worthy of his time and attention?

Chance.

Izaya's laughter bubbled up from deep within his chest, a place that was dark and often forgotten, the sound unpleasant and contrived. When he was finished, he stood, stretching his limbs as he approached the brunette, leveling him with a malicious smirk. "Whatever chance you may be referring to, Dota-chin, does not exist. And even if it did, I'd have no interest. There is nothing I want with Shizuo other than to kill him. However, since you obviously have no intention of believing me, let me remind you this: he said it first, ne? He was the one that started this, not me."

"And aren't you a little too old to be holding grudges?" Kadota challenged, not moving his eyes away, although sensing he'd encroached miles into Izaya's personal territory; a place no one should tread unless armed with heavy artillery. "Shizuo is a good guy, and he doesn't hate people without reason. He's also the kind of guy that knows how to forgive. It could be different between you two if you just backed off."

Izaya paused, struck silent by those familiar words spoken just days ago by a certain blond. A promise that they could be something more. Something tame and kind.

It's not impossible, flea.

The memory resurfaced acute distaste and his lips thinned, anger darkening his garnet gaze.

Obviously the brute had suffered some form of head trauma because there was no other explanation for such a blatant, depressingly desperate lie.

Him and Shizuo, friends. He'd settle down with a conservative housewife and father a healthy family before he allowed Shizuo to look at him the way Kadota, Shinra, and everyone else did. As if he were just another person.

He'd worked much too hard, had sacrificed too much time and resources in order to cultivate this dynamic between them, and now the entire world was trying to tear it down.

He wouldn't let it happen.

As fast as a flipped switch, Izaya's veneer shifted, shoulders relaxing. "I appreciate your concern, Dota-chin, but whatever BL fantasies Shinra's been feeding you have obviously affected your judgment, and I don't have the patience to stand around listening to your nonsense. While I'm sure the thought of me and Shizu-chan fucking might be exciting for you, it's never going to happen. So sorry to disappoint."

Glancing across the street in time to see Shizuo and Mari slip inside the theater, Izaya pulled his fur-lined hood around his face as he moved away, brandishing a hand as he departed. "Excuse me, I have a movie to watch. Goodnight, Dota-chin. This talk was painfully boring. Let's not do it again."

Movies weren't really Shizuo's thing. If it had been him that had planned the date and not Izaya, he probably wouldn't have even considered going to the theater. For one, sitting for that long and not being able to smoke was hard on him, and two, movies were rarely very interesting. And of course, Mari had to decide on the last movie he'd ever want to watch out of his choices. Some stupid as hell romance.

Dragging his eyes back to the screen, he tried to remember what was going on, figuring it was best he pay some attention just in case Mari wanted to talk about it afterwards. The story was something about a girl, a boy, and the complications that came with an unrequited love, although calling this situation complicated was a smack in the face to anyone who really knew what it was like to want someone who didn't want them back. The heroine seemed to have no problem getting what she wanted half an hour in when her love interest miraculously seemed to return her feelings out of damn nowhere.

Hell, if all it fucking took was a handful of cheesy lines and some flowers, it wouldn't be Mari sitting beside him now, that was for damn sure. Just another reason romances bothered the shit out of him; they were too unrealistic. According to cinema, as long as the hero tried hard enough, no matter the circumstance, they'd be sure to have a happy ending. Or die. Either way, no one really had to suffer for more than the amount of time it took for him to finish a box of candy.

It was probably best for him not to watch because the complete infeasibility was starting to chafe on his last nerve, which could mean bad news for those sitting close by, particularly the girl to his left who kept sighing longingly whenever the onscreen lovers embraced.

Like now.

The blond teen watched on, increasingly uncomfortable, as the actors began to strip off each other's clothing until the screen was nothing but a whole lot of close up shots of naked skin and attached mouths. And then there was a bunch of touching and gripping sheets and gasping and—

Shizuo's heart stilled when he felt soft fingers brush across his knuckles.

At first Mari's fingers were hesitant, merely brushing over his as if to ask permission. However, when he didn't make any move to reply, she became a little bolder, winding her fingers over his hand and clasping it gently on the seat beside his thigh. And then, all too soon, her head was resting against his shoulder, her thumb rubbing tiny circles against his skin.

Her skin was warm and soft, her touch normal, unintimidating. And like earlier, Shizuo felt nothing. His heart steadied, calmed by the fact that it was just her.

It only bothered him that his body had immediately anticipated it being someone else.

The only real issue was that he needed to be careful, because she was delicate and human in the ways he wasn't, and his grip could crush her bones to dust if he wasn't careful. As long as he kept his palm flush against the seat, his fingers were in no position to accidentally break hers.

Out of nowhere it sort of hit him that he was on a date. A real, honest-to-god date. He wasn't just hanging out with some girl. It was more than that, which meant that—

Immediately his eyes were drawn back to the film, panic embracing him with cold arms as he took in the sight of strong hands smoothing over feminine curves, gripping rounded hips and tangling in long hair.

Shit. Maybe he should've paid closer attention. What was normal nowadays anyway? Did people usually end up in bed together on the first date? Was that something she expected him to do? Or was it the second date? Or maybe she was one of those girls that wanted to save herself for marriage. Hell, could he even do it?

None-too-stealthily he glanced over at her crossed legs, slender and smooth, her chest, rising softly with her breathing. She was so pretty, so dainty and frail. It wasn't like he'd never been interested in girls before. He liked them a lot, actually, and he'd probably have no issue physically responding to one. The idea didn't disgust him.

She just wasn't—

He grit his teeth, forcing his thoughts away from their projected path, knowing it was useless, but desperate to fight free.

Walking close was fine. Holding hands was okay. But anything more than that…

He couldn't. Not when he continued to imagine what it might be like, even now, if this were the flea next to him instead.

But Izaya's hand was so much bigger than Mari's, his fingers longer and bonier, although no less pretty. But they were more resilient, and Shizuo knew that if this were Izaya's hand he wouldn't feel afraid of holding it.

And just like a stone rolling downhill, quickly gaining momentum and becoming increasingly harder to stop, so was his imagination, which was eager to betray him with the fantasy that this was also Izaya's head resting against his shoulder, the flea having grown tired, dark lashes fluttering closed against pale skin as he relaxed against Shizuo, uncaring that there were other people in the theater because Izaya didn't care about the opinions of others and Shizuo couldn't think about anything other than Izaya and that he was with him and they weren't fighting, but together—

Mari laughed, throwing Shizuo from his deviating thoughts, a rush of cold air sweeping over his skin.

He pulled his hand from under hers, the movement causing her to lift her head and meet his eyes, searching to find any sign that she'd somehow offended him. But she couldn't discern anything, his gaze refusing to meet hers as he stood.

"Gonna smoke," he said quietly, excusing himself to descend the stairs to reenter the lobby.

Immediately sensing that something was wrong, Mari watched him leave, insecurity forming a crinkled frown on glossy lips. Unable to shrug off the feeling but incapable of mustering the courage to follow after him, she instead fell into her seat, dejected.

Moments later, warm breath caressed the shell of her ear. "Good evening, Mari-chan."

The whispered greeting made her jolt in surprise, hot breath and the smell of mint jarring her out of her comfort zone. Whipping around angrily in her seat, she glared at the hooded figure hovering over her shoulder. "How long have you been sitting there?" She hissed under her breath.

"The entire time, ne. You have very poor taste, by the way. This movie is awful. I almost pity the protozoan." A grin spread over Izaya's shadowed features, shielding from view the burn of aggravation he'd been feeling ever since Mari had reached for Shizuo's hand.

Her frown deepened. "You are—"

A firm finger pressed over her mouth, Izaya silencing her before she managed to draw any unwanted attention from the surrounding audience. Really, if she'd just look at her phone this could all be avoided. "When he returns, I want you to meet me in the women's restroom."

"Why?" She challenged after the lone digit was removed from her lips.

Izaya forced an amiable smile as he stood. "Just do it."

Izaya was leaning against the sink counter in the women's restroom, inspecting the fading bruise on his cheek with mild interest when Mari entered.

"Lock the door."

Doing as instructed, she eyed his new jacket with a look that screamed her disapproval. "What are you wearing?"

Izaya moved to stand before her, no longer bothering to appear genteel. There was rigidity in his gait, a simmering anger in the dark garnet of his gaze. "That should be my question, ne. Or is it your plan to fuck him? I should warn you, Shizu-chan is too much of a coward to touch a girl, so don't get your hopes up."

Mari backed away, curling a protective fist against her chest to shield herself from his castigating glare.

Her refusal to answer sent a jolt of ice up Izaya's spine. Making sure she was looking at him, he searched her face for any clue to her intentions. "Are you?"

Something about the way he asked this gave Mari the impression that whatever her answer was, it was important. Very important. "You never said I couldn't."

"I'm saying it now," he articulated with frigid authority. "Keep your legs closed, ne."

"Don't tell me what to do with my legs," she argued, sidestepping him and approaching the mirror, sending him a reproachful glare as she pulled out a tube of lip-gloss. "You never said I couldn't, you said I didn't have to. Well maybe I want to."

Arguing would get him nowhere. Very few people managed to achieve much in the heat of anger. The brain tended to shut down, all good sense of judgment shoved aside by excessive antagonism. He wasn't quite sure where it was coming from either, but was conscious that the feeling had been simmering below the surface of his rationale since the early evening when he noticed Mari hanging all over the over-trusting brute.

Inhaling slowly, Izaya forced himself to calm, his mask smoothly slipping into place as he turned towards her and met her gaze in the mirror.

"He won't like it," he attempted to explain.

"I know." Returning the makeup wand to its tube, Mari hesitated, the words she really wanted to say shying from her tongue. "I'm also not the type of girl that sleeps with a guy on the first date."

Aren't you? Izaya refrained from asking, nearing the petite girl from behind, pale fingers reaching forward to smooth over a gently rounded hip.

Her eyes met his, intrigued by the unspoken suggestion.

So easy, he thought, entirely disinterested. Had there ever been a time when he would've been interested? His eyes fell to her chest, the enticing swell of her breasts, her tight waist and smooth legs.

She was beautiful, and so agonizingly boring.

"I don't get it," she sighed, turning to face him. "What's wrong with you?"

Not expecting such a direct question, Izaya paused. "I'm fine."

"You're angry, and for some reason you're taking it out on me."

Ah, he supposed that was partly true. Sometimes it was nice being honest, and he saw no harm in admitting a little bit of the truth. "It's frustrating, ne. Having to rely on someone else to do my work."

Mari's arms folded, the defensive line of her mouth relaxing now that Izaya was at least explaining why he was being such an ass towards her. "By work you mean me dating Shizuo."

His silence served as his answer.

She grinned, the expression stiff. "Are you saying you'd rather do it?"

"I'm not saying anything," he replied coolly. "Although it would be nice to cut out the middleman and do it myself."

"You mean me."

He could feel it, his mask momentarily slipping, the muscles in his face hardening with distaste as he stared down at the girl who had the opportunity to do everything he couldn't. "I mean you."

She shrugged, unsympathetic.

Curiously, Izaya watched as she dug her movie ticket from her purse and carefully placed it inside her wallet for safekeeping. Her diverted attention did little to disguise the upset in a dark chocolate gaze. "Is there…something wrong with him?"

The raven-haired teen smirked. "Where should I start?"

But Mari was shaking her head, frustration clear in the crease of her brow. "No, that's not—" she sighed, her fingers massaging her hairline as her troubled gaze found refuge in the mosaic tiled floor. "I don't think he likes me, Izaya."

The bathroom grew quiet but for the leaking faucet and constant surge of air through piping.

"Explain, ne."

"There's just no…" she searched for the right word that could translate the way Shizuo never quite looked at her, how withdrawn and simply not there he felt even when they were side-by-side, how stiff and quiet he became when she touched him, smiled at him, as if everything would just be easier if she just wasn't there, "…chemistry."

"Then try harder."

A sharp laugh cut through the air as she lifted her gaze back to his. "It doesn't really work that way. It's either there or it isn't. You've dated before, haven't you?"

It wasn't a question she really wanted an answer for, but she received one anyway when feline cherry narrowed as if to guard against being seen. Thin arms folded beneath a skinny ribcage, pale hands clutching at sharp elbows. Izaya's voice was quiet, the sound carrying frost. "Is that relevant?"

"Well, if you've loved someone, then you know what I'm talking about when I say it's just not there, right?" Dark ruby held her gaze, her words garnering no response, and she knew in that moment that Izaya had no idea what she was talking about. Pity softened her dislike of him. "Me and Shizuo just aren't supposed to be together."

Supposed to be. "Do you expect me to believe there are people in this world that are meant to be?"

"Not necessarily, but," she paused, her eyes reminiscent and distant in a way that gave Izaya the impression she was referring to someone specifically as she spoke, "for some of us, there just can't be anyone else."

"And has Shizu-chan given you reason to believe that there is someone else?" Those words left little air in his throat, the possibility one he'd never considered. One that he didn't like for all the uncertainty and the unknown that had absolutely nothing to do with him and what he wanted.

"All I know is that he's dealing with something, but he'll never tell me what that is."

"Then if there's nothing else you can do for me, find out what that is at least."

"What do you want to know?"

"If there's something wrong with him. Other than the obvious, of course." As he spoke, he scrutinized the specks of glitter in her lip-gloss. "Be very personal and direct. He doesn't respond well to subtlety. He's too stupid."

Taking slight offense on Shizuo's behalf, Mari frowned. "I don't think he's stupid at all."

"What you think is irrelevant, ne? I didn't hire you so I could have a third person trying to convince me that I'm wrong about him."

"You are."

"Yes, I know," Izaya bit back, words cloaked in sarcasm. "I'm sure he's perfect."

"I'm not saying he's perfect. He's just…" and her focus softened, her face warmed, and Izaya noticed everything and his disdain for her had never been so strong, "…not as much of a monster as you think he is."

"You like him."

She flushed. "So what?" She returned her purse to her shoulder, eyeing him guardedly. "This isn't my first experience with unrequited love."

"Love?" That airless feeling returned, though this time it was that much worse. White fingers tightened in the sleeve of his jacket.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I'm not saying I'm quitting, by the way. I'm still hoping that maybe he's just having a bad day or something. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve." Her finger lifted to her glossy mouth and she smiled.

Apparently their conversation was over as she moved past him to leave. Touching her wrist as she neared the door, Izaya pulled her attention back towards him, his eyes once again falling to her mouth. Not hesitating, he leaned in, just barely pressing his mouth against hers. The action meant nothing and made him feel even less, the sensation of sticky gloss against his mouth off-putting. Pulling away, he swiped his tongue across his bottom lip to taste. "Vanilla, ne."

Face rosy, eyes glazed, she stared back clearly unsatisfied. "It's his favorite flavor, right?"

Understanding the implications of those words and why it was important that her mouth tasted like vanilla, a chill swept through Izaya's veins, slowing his reflexes and putting a stopper to all subsequent thought.

He reached out for her wrist to stop her, but she was gone.

She couldn't get a word out of him other than the occasional 'yeah' and 'oh'. The walk from the theater to her home was uncomfortable, her date reserved and staring vacantly at the sidewalk beneath their feet, hands in his pockets, a foot of distance between them.

Mari didn't know where Izaya was, but she suspected he was probably around somewhere, watching from the bushes or the roof of a house. She hoped he was still back at the theater, but she doubted he was very far at all. She wasn't looking forward to having to deal with him chastising her for once again failing at her task, but ever since Shizuo had returned from his smoke break at the theater he'd been giving her the silent treatment.

If anything, at least the weather was nice. Sighing softly, she slowed her step, allowing her detached date to catch up. Once they were side-by-side, she nudged him with her elbow, smiling when she regained his attention.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, quiet.

Deciding it might do them some good to take a little detour, Mari lead the way onto a back road, empty but for the occasional passerby and a much easier way of shaking off any unwanted stalkers.

Shizuo's eyes moved to glance at her profile as she casually took hold of his hand, her fingers clinging to the backs of his knuckles, her palm warm, soft. For the first time that night he wanted to pull his hand away because this time it felt different. More intimate, somehow. Romantic and everything that he wasn't ready to be with her.

He couldn't lie to himself, and he couldn't lie to her.

"Hey."

Pausing her step, Mari glanced back, eyes meeting hazel. "Hm?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Go ahead."

He touched the back of his head, looked away. "What made you decide to tell me?"

She was quiet while she considered the question. Understanding what he meant, she glanced down, feeling guilty that she was being forced to improvise a lie. "I guess I just felt I had nothing to lose."

"You weren't afraid I'd say no?"

Unsure how to answer, she thought carefully, eventually shaking her head. "Just a little."

"If you—" Shizuo's throat tightened, but his drive for guidance pushed him past it, "If you knew for sure I would've said no, would you've told me anyway?"

Somehow she had a feeling this wasn't a random conversation. Call it women's intuition, but something in the back of her mind was telling her she needed to pay close attention because he was telling her something, and if she listened close enough, she could hear it. "I don't know. Maybe."

His gaze darkened, her answer disappointing.

Stepping closer, she urged him to look at her, eager to read him. "Why?"

And once again he dropped his gaze. "It's nothin'."

That was a lie. "I think I'd want you to know, even if I thought you'd turn me down."

"And when I said no, you wouldn't hate yourself?"

"No, because I'd be able to move on."

He nodded, the motion rigid, his entire body unable to comprehend what that even meant. "If you couldn't?"

Oh.

It happened rather quickly, realization igniting the figurative bulb floating invisible above her head. And when it happened, it sort of stung, disappointment an emotion that never really knew when to say when. Never really pulled any punches. The letdown was always difficult, the feeling leaving her a little bruised, mentally and emotionally winded.

But somehow she'd expected this. She just really hoped that in this case, she wasn't right. "Do you like someone, Heiwajima-kun?"

His gaze flew back to hers, eyes imploring, panicked, tongue caught behind his teeth, unable to lie because she was looking at him like she already knew.

It was amazing how everyone just somehow seemed to figure it out and he didn't even have to say anything. Some people took longer than others. Mari took less than a week.

He couldn't answer her, regret and apology choking him to silence.

"Who?" She eventually asked once the surprise had subsided.

Shizuo shook his head. "Don't ask me who it is. Just—" He sighed, eyes closing. "Don't."

She nodded, the action going unnoticed.

"I'm sorry," he ground out, the words painful and too familiar.

"It's okay—"

"No, it's not fuckin' okay. I—" He hesitated, grappling with the severity of his transgression. "I had no damn right to do this to you."

He was the fucking worst. Using her like this. Leading her on. All because he was desperate for a distraction. It served him right that it'd just blown up in his face, every glance her way a cruel reminder that she would never be who he wanted her to be.

No one deserved to be treated like that.

And he hadn't meant to. He didn't want to. If somehow this could work out, it'd be a damn miracle. But he wasn't going to experiment with someone's feelings. He wasn't going to drag someone down with him.

"And I thought it was going pretty well." She tried to laugh, to lighten the mood, but it was surprisingly difficult. This situation was awful. She'd been broken up with multiple times, but never on the first date. If this had happened with anyone else, she'd let them have it. But his pain was palpable, his distress drawing her in, making her curious, having her wonder who it was that made him feel this way. "Do you like me even a little?" Sheer curiosity, a shadow of hope.

It took everything he had to meet her eyes, his expression speaking volumes.

Crap. A warm flush, natural and real bloomed in her cheeks as his sincerity touched something deep within her, her heart kick starting with the delicate ferocity of an impeccably tuned engine despite the sudden onrush of envy she felt for whoever this mystery girl was.

Shizuo was nice and he was honest, and in those ways alone he was so different from any of the guys she'd dated before, but she'd never expected to actually feel anything other than attraction towards him. Crap, crap, crap, this is bad.

Part of her knew that this was for the best. She still had the money she'd made thus far, and she wouldn't have to deal with this situation any longer. Izaya would be out of her life and so would this guilt that had been riding on her shoulders ever since she first looked into those trusting hazel eyes and told him she liked him. Now it wasn't feeling as much a lie anymore, but that in and of itself was frightening because she knew that this wouldn't have a happy ending for her. Something in her gut told her that she had no place in his life, that she was merely a visiting guest in a story where he would never view her as a main character.

His fingers were dead, slack and uninterested in her hand, but his eyes were intent on her face, focused and vulnerable and—

Damn it. She sighed as soon as she felt the butterflies wake beneath her ribcage. "Whoever this person is, she's lucky." The words were accompanied with a soft, genuine smile. "She must be amazing."

"They're not."

Thin brows lifted, confused. "No?"

And maybe Shizuo had no idea what he was doing when his fingers first brushed against his bruised cheek before burying in his pocket, his eyes detached and focused on thoughts of someone else, those thoughts warming his expression and softening everything about him in a way that made her heart stumble and leap into her throat. "He's sorta the biggest asshole in the whole damn world."

He. She realized she was staring at him, caught up in watching the breeze blow soft gold against a tanned cheek, repeating over and over and over he.

Not realizing his slipup, Shizuo sighed, the sound resigned and weary, as if he was finished with this and ready to go, but unsure how to go about it. "Anyway, sorry. I know it's not what you deserve to hear, but I'm not very good at this sorta thing, so…"

"It's okay. At least you told me sooner than later, right?"

He nodded, his expression apologetic and disagreeing.

A shy, embarrassed flush darkened her cheeks when she realized she was still clutching his hand. Releasing it, she stepped away. "Anyway, I think I can walk the rest by myself. It isn't far."

Shizuo's hand slipped inside his pocket. "You sure?"

Withholding a grateful smile, she nodded, continuing on down the street with a tiny wave in parting. "Goodnight, Shizuo-kun."

From the confines of her purse, her cell phone trilled. It was as she was still repeating he and asshole that she read Izaya, and all too quickly the words seemed to feel synonymous.

Her steps slowed, losing momentum beneath the weight of her shock, numbed still with surprise and the sheer force of her incredulity. She glanced over her shoulder at Shizuo's retreating form and thought—

Oh.

Somewhere around Russia Sushi Shizuo's phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He didn't bother to look at the ID. "What?"

"So rude, Shizu-chan. Really, what sort of greeting is that?"

Pace slowing, Shizuo glanced around, suspicious of every dark corner, hoping his sudden unease would last long enough to subdue the ache. "The hell are you calling me for, Izaya?"

"Where are you?"

"None of your damn business."

"We can either play hide-and-seek or get straight to the fun part and you can come chase me. Take your pick, I'm bored."

Bored. That was fine. The asshole could stay bored. Tonight he wasn't in any mood or condition to be chasing anyone. "Don't feel like it, flea."

The teen on the other end was quiet, no doubt expecting an entirely different response.

Normally Shizuo would never allow himself to be this out of character in front of Izaya. But tonight he was tired, drained, and with the way his body felt anchored to the ground he doubted he'd be able to chase him very far anyway.

It was hard running after someone you wanted to catch but were too afraid to reach for.

"Did your little date go that badly, Shizu-chan?"

"It was fine," the blond refuted. "I just don't want to see you."

Izaya laughed. "You never do, ne."

The line went dead, and it was Shizuo's own fault for being naïve enough to believe their conversation was over. He had just turned the corner past Russia Sushi when he saw him, standing there in some jacket he'd never seen before and looking like the cat that'd caught the mouse. He was smiling, and that always meant bad news.

"Long time no see, Shizu-chan."

The blond sighed, lowering his eyes as if looking away would make Izaya disappear. "It's only been a few days."

"And yet you're keeping track."

First it was a hand placed delicately against his forearm, a mouth resting beside his ear, the position alarmingly intimate and close for two guys standing in the middle of a busy Ikebukuro street. What passerby couldn't see was the sharp blade currently sliding along Shizuo's inner thigh, pausing at the juncture of his legs.

Izaya's cheek brushed his temple as he smiled. "Exactly how many times do I need to threaten Kasuka-kun to get you to listen to me?"

"You don't." Shizuo's teeth grinded, hands useless against a threat he had no way of fending off. It was moments like these when he really questioned what he saw in this guy and why the hell it had to be him. Even now, Shizuo's fingers were aching to reach forward and close the distance between his hand and Izaya's.

No doubt doing so would mean his immediate castration.

"Follow me, ne."

Izaya was bad news. Following Izaya into a dark alley was really bad news, and if Shizuo had a choice in the matter he'd be doing this back out in the street where there were too many witnesses for Izaya to do as he pleased. But he'd been in enough fights to sense one coming and knew that this wasn't going to turn into a bloody, fist-throwing brawl. By the time they turned a corner where no one would ever be able to see them, Izaya's knife had already regained its place between Shizuo's thighs, pointed end scraping teasingly against the metal zipper of his pants.

It wasn't the alley that was frightening. It wasn't the darkness and it wasn't the knife. It was the fact Izaya wasn't saying anything.

A lone streetlamp connected to a power pole was the only source of illumination, its orange glow doing little to brighten a crimson gaze that was currently focused on a frowning, thin mouth. The attractive curve of a sharp cheekbone was still masked beneath tape, porcelain skin darkened with bruises. He looked tired, the set of his mouth a little less cocky, his skin not as vibrant, hair slightly disheveled against a tensed brow. He was wearing the ugliest fucking jacket Shizuo had ever seen, tufts of white fur lining the heavy hood around his shoulders, making him somehow seem even thinner beneath the loose fitting coat.

And still, still, he was the prettiest fucking thing Shizuo had ever laid eyes on.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fucking fair that he kept finding himself in these situations. Kept allowing himself to be put in these situations. The only reason Izaya had such confidence in their fights was simply because Shizuo was so unwilling to ever do anything to actually hurt him. Even now, it would be as easy as breathing for him to just reach out and snap the flea's arm, break his bones and throw that knife into another hemisphere.

It wasn't that damn knife that kept him in place. It wasn't his concern for what Izaya might do to his brother if he were to fight back. It was everything else.

He knew precisely why he was here, pinned against a wall by the last person he should be seeing right now.

He wanted this.

"You've been so calm lately," Izaya began, only beginning to broach a subject that had been bothering him these past few weeks. He'd noticed everything. The deep quiet, the way that caramel gaze avoided him, the way he avoided him. It wasn't out of fear. Izaya knew what it looked like when someone was afraid of him. Shizuo wasn't and never would be afraid. Whatever this was that was making the protozoan behave so strangely, it had nothing to do with fear.

"You just haven't been pissing me off as much."

"Ah, so it's my fault."

Their eyes met, fixated, the ever-present tension a slow burn of frustration beneath this façade of a rivalry.

Izaya's attention fell back to Shizuo's mouth. "Dota-chin tried to convince me that I don't hate you. Isn't that funny, Shizu-chan?"

It wasn't a joke. It was a challenge; an implicit command voiced behind a cherry stare that desperately sought confirmation.

Shizuo swallowed past the dryness of his throat, hating that he was going to make him say it. "Hilarious."

Izaya was no longer smiling, his gaze contemplative. "I don't understand why they think that." As if to remind him just how much he didn't like him, Izaya pressed the knife closer.

"Probably cause you can't keep your hand away from my crotch," Shizuo growled, ass curving towards the brick wall in an effort to put some distance between his dick and that blade.

"I really can't." The words just barely sounded like a tease and failed to come across as one when Izaya bent his wrist just to drag his thumb against the front of Shizuo's pants.

The blond stiffened, jolting away from the touch, his actions only halting when he could once again feel that sharp knifepoint digging into his thigh. "Never thought you were the sexual harassment type of guy," he ground out, heart a panicked mess as blood rushed to his groin.

"Harassment?" Izaya repeated, the word unpleasant on his tongue. "Is that what this feels like to you?"

A warm flush darkened Shizuo's cheek, capturing Izaya's attention. A particular sensation of awe caused him to stare as Shizuo attempted to shield his reaction by lowering that leonine gaze to the ground.

"What the fuck do you want, Izaya?"

Izaya was brought to a pause, the question unexpected because he didn't actually know the answer. His attention moved once again to Shizuo's mouth, focused on that dark flush beneath golden skin. The words left his mouth before he realized he'd voiced them. Severely curious. "Did you kiss her?"

Surprise lifted Shizuo's eyes back to his, the blond looking childishly bewildered for a moment. "No."

Their eyes locked just before Izaya's gaze lowered back to Shizuo's mouth.

The unexpectedly soft pad of the flea's thumb pressed against Shizuo's lower lip, gliding across. A flush of need warmed the area between Izaya's thighs, tugged behind his navel, drawing him closer to his favorite monster, his gaze once more focused on that untouched mouth.

"I bet you would hate it if I stole your first kiss." Izaya's eyes looked unfocused, their usual piercing intensity softened beneath a haze of desire. Craving. Pulling his thumb from Shizuo's lip, he set it against his mouth just to taste, enjoying the way he teased himself almost as much as Shizuo was with that darkened blush on his unfairly handsome face. "Shizu-chan would be so angry with me."

Fuck. Of all the challenges he'd been forced to endure, this was quickly turning out to be the hardest. Izaya's attention had slackened and Shizuo figured he could probably get away if he timed it right, but the moment that wet tongue slipped out to taste his skin, it was game over. "You wanna die, flea?"

For the first time all night, a spark of excitement issued up Izaya's spine, igniting a pleased smirk as he leaned forwards, mouth ghosting across the exposed flesh peeking from Shizuo's white collared shirt. "Not quite yet, ne. There are still some things I need to do." Taking advantage of this rare position of control, Izaya carded his fingers into the hair at Shizuo's nape, pulling just to hear his breath tighten against his ear. "You, for starters."

The blond shivered, abdomen tensing in response to the scrape of blunt teeth against his neck. "Like hell."

"You think I couldn't convince you? I bet I could get you on your knees for me, and I wouldn't even have to threaten your cute little brother to get you to do it."

The funny thing was, he wouldn't. Not when the blond was already so desperate for a taste that the mere suggestion of it left him leaking against his own stomach. "Izaya—"

"Quiet." Hearing the sound of his name spoken in that voice, growled through the angry clench of white teeth, was unexpectedly stirring. Really, this situation had taken quite an interesting turn from where he'd intended. His cock warmed, aching for the relief of something to press against.

He was conscious of the importance that he leave this alone before he took it too far. But Shizuo's skin tasted like salt, and Izaya found it difficult to move his mouth until the flesh beneath his tongue had turned red and swollen. Nipping at the over-sensitized skin, he brushed his nose against Shizuo's jawline, a smile curling moistened lips as their eyes caught.

Chemistry. Izaya smiled, his mouth hovering over Shizuo's, feeling the brute freeze up like a marble statue, brow crinkled as he silently tried so hard to resist.

"Don't."

Izaya paused, close enough to taste Shizuo's breath against his tongue. Curious ruby lifted to unstable caramel, the monster's gaze glimmering with panic. Annoyance made Izaya frown. "Did you resist this much when she tried to kiss you?" He was vaguely aware that Shizuo was trembling, could feel it when their chests brushed, as his knuckles came into contact with the hot inside of the brute's thigh. "It's just a kiss, Shizu-chan. It doesn't matter."

"It matters, Izaya." Shizuo was looking at him, directly and unguarded, burning leonine translating what those three words tried so hard to communicate beneath a veil of ambiguity.

And for one, airless moment, Izaya looked like he understood why. Almost allowed himself to read between the lines. Disbelief, however, redirected him towards a safe-haven where Shizuo hated him and wanted him to die. A place that was black and white, void of gray areas where maybe's and what if's seemed a lot more plausible. It was only there, away from that place where perhaps he was wrong, that his world could continue to stay upright. Any ulterior notions would simply turn the entire operation upside down, and Izaya Orihara really had no interest in falling.

Those ruby eyes lost that brief light of incredulous realization, darkening to a provocative blood red. The knifepoint sliced through Shizuo's pant leg as Izaya leaned closer, and he could feel the sting of a cut on his thigh.

"For a dog, you're not very good at begging, are you Shizuo?" Izaya's mouth hovered a hairsbreadth away. Against his knuckles, he could feel Shizuo's cock pulse and he smirked. "Be a good boy and don't bite."

"Izaya—" was all Shizuo could breathe out in final, pleading warning before that warm, un-chapped mouth drew nearer and—

"Acutally," Izaya suddenly paused, eyes alight, inspired, "you do it."

And it was at that moment Shizuo knew it was all over. Knew that there was no way he could hide anymore, no way he could pretend like he didn't want this.

This was never about options. Had nothing to do with choice. His hand was forced the moment he looked at Izaya and realized his everyday would never be the same in both the best and worst way possible. Because this was Izaya and he was Shizuo and for some goddamn elusive reason that's all that seemed to matter as far as explanations went, and all those minor details like compatibility and gender preferences and the fact that they just fuckin' couldn't agree on most shit meant little to nothing in ways of swaying the fact that he'd never be able to want someone as much as he wanted this asshole flea.

Because for as long as his legs worked he would never give up on chasing this goddamn louse even if it meant always having to suffer through his fingers forever only reaching desperately at his back.

But right now, at this very moment, he could touch. Had been granted permission. He'd be a fool not to fuckin' take what would probably ever be his only opportunity in this lifetime to have what he was so sure was supposed to be his.

And his body felt it the moment his hand reached for Izaya's cheek and skimmed across skin that felt like warm silk. Mine was what his fingers were saying as they curled into midnight hair. Mine he repeated as their noses touched and he tilted Izaya's chin closer, ruby eyes sharp with warning that didn't quite disguise panic as Shizuo's touch threatened to smudge the line that was their boundary.

Mine.

That carefully drawn line was unsalvageable the moment Shizuo's mouth pressed to Izaya's, the kiss gentle in all the ways it shouldn't be because it mocked everything that they were. Izaya's lips parted against the first wet press of Shizuo's tongue, his mouth filled with the taste of smoke and sugar, his lips left sticky and warm with every soft nip of teeth and slide of tongue. His breath hitched when his bottom lip was caught between the blunt pressure of Shizuo's teeth, the bite sore before the blond's tongue pressed to massage away the pain.

And all of this could've been excused away as virginal enthusiasm or general excitement if it weren't for those hands holding his face as if he were something delicate, that mouth devouring him as if Shizuo had been waiting for this his entire life.

Izaya couldn't fight it, could do nothing to weaken the intensity of a kiss that was too intimate, too affectionate and revealing. His body had always been unreasonably receptive to Shizuo, so the wake of arousal between his thighs came as no surprise when the monster once again suckled at his lip and breathed his name into his mouth, thumb caressing the cut on his cheek, molten caramel implying things that they shouldn't. Things that were impossible because this was Shizuo and he was Izaya and they hated each other and always would.

Hate me, he urged as his fingers slackened around his knife, pointed end falling away from Shizuo's thigh. Hate me, Shizuo, he thought, desperate, as Shizuo took advantage of his freedom to move closer until their hips were pressed as tightly as their mouths and it was now Izaya's back against the rough brick wall. Please as his fingers curled into white cotton and pulled, jaw aching as he kissed back, mouth pliant and hot and wet.

And still, it would all be that much easier if Shizuo would just grind against him. There was nothing particularly profound about wanting to fuck. But this—

Izaya made the mistake of looking the moment Shizuo pulled away to find the monster about to say something, and just as quickly Izaya knew he didn't want to hear it. Already the ground beneath his feet was threatening to crumble, his world as he knew it vulnerable and disbanding all because Shizuo was looking at him like he didn't hate him and that hand was still against his cheek and he could still taste traces of tobacco in his mouth and that was about all the unpredictable he could manage right now and this all just needed to stop. Stop before things changed.

It's not impossible, flea.

There was no going back. Things had been changing, and Izaya could no longer pretend like he didn't notice.

There must've been something on his face, because Shizuo seemed to decide against saying whatever it was he was going to, the blond instead choosing to once again resume where they'd left off, the kiss somehow even more gentle than before and so much worse because of it.

Metallic and warm, Shizuo tasted the blood before he felt the pain, warm liquid pooling behind his lower lip and spilling onto his chin as their lips parted, his tongue bitten and pulsing. Immediately his hand moved from Izaya's cheek to cover his mouth, caramel eyes meeting cagy crimson.

And he knew better than to push Izaya when he was on the verge of some semi-psychotic breakdown as he so clearly was right now, but fuck, Shizuo couldn't just turn tail and run away when he wasn't finished and wasn't sure the flea really understood what had just happened. "Izaya, I—"

"Don't." His voice held none of his usual arrogance, all self-assuredness absent in a gaze that was lingering on the cusp of absolute terror. "This was a mistake, ne. There's nothing you need to say. Shizu-chan is simply an overexcited virgin and I should've known better."

"Flea, that's—"

"Wrong?" It wasn't amusement that darkened that gaze, something akin to nervousness straining the teasing cadence of his tone. "You're not the only one that's ever wanted to fuck me, Shizuo. I can't say I'm not surprised all things considered, but—"

"Izaya—"

"—animals will rut against anything with a pulse and a hole, so why would you be any different?"

Cause you're so much more than that were the words that he was too coward to say, the very air he was desperate to inhale feeling hot and tight in his chest, those uneasy ruby eyes putting a stopper on Shizuo's ability to be completely honest because he didn't want to know what the flea would look like if he really told him the truth. "You asked for this, flea."

No, he didn't. He demanded a kiss. That was a whole lot more than just a kiss, and right now his mind was reeling through all of the terrifying explanations as to why.

There just can't be anyone else.

Izaya's eyes cut to the pavement, and Shizuo knew that this conversation wasn't going to happen. That Izaya didn't want it to happen.

That was okay. For now. In the end, this wasn't the place he wanted to do it, and standing at knifepoint wasn't the way he wanted to say it. But he would say it. Especially now that Izaya was probably going to figure it out at some point tonight or maybe tomorrow, he'd have to.

A sigh broke the quiet, Shizuo absently wiping the crusted blood from his lip before slipping his hand into the pocket of his pants. "Alright, I'll go."

Izaya remained quiet, that clever gaze reserved and downcast in a way that suggested his brain was working faster than his reaction knew how to keep up. It wasn't until Shizuo had reached the turn that his eyes lifted to the blond's form. "Shizuo."

Shizuo paused, looked back. "Huh?"

"Say it, ne." Hate me.

There was something desperate burning in that crimson stare that was imploring just as much as it was frightened, and Shizuo knew exactly what it was Izaya wanted to hear. The thing was, he was tired of lying. To himself, to the flea, to everyone.

And that slow burn of anxiety trembled and flourished into a bloom of well-founded fear when Shizuo's gaze dropped to the ground and he said—

"I can't."

Author's Note: So…it's been…some time since I last updated this story. Let me tell you, it's been the biggest pain. I'm no longer sure at this point how many revisions this chapter has gone through. Chopped and edited and rewritten to hell and back. UGH. And I'm still not all that happy about it, but I just have to move on.

It's time for some Shizaya action. Hopefully you guys are as confused about Izaya's feelings as he is. They're pretty unclear, right? Hopefully? Maybe….? I see no point in dragging the whole Mari/Shizuo thing out when he knows and we know it's not going anywhere.

If you did enjoy it please review! As you can tell I'm a little…unsatisfied with this chapter. If you think it's good the way it is, tell me! It'll make me feel so much better and less insane. If it's as bad as I feel it is, also tell me! But please be gentle. I'm sensitive and easily hurt…

Anyway, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone that's been reviewing/following my stories! This pairing is very special to me and I enjoy writing for them so much, so it makes me very happy to know there are others enjoying what I write. Thank you guys so much!

And a Happy New Year! Here's to hoping Durarara S2 will have a trillion times more Shizaya moments than the first!

xoxo

~Merry