Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Blind Fury	By : HollowedRose Category: > Durarara!! (?????!! Dyurarara!!) Views: 6534 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara!! and its characters. They belong to Ryohgo Narita. I'm not making any profit from this.

Chapter List
- 37
- 38
- 39
Chapter 38 - Of Dream and Drama
Shizuo felt the air shift beside him before his wrist was even released, and he instinctively jumped away, expecting the man to thrust a switchblade into his flesh. He swiftly spun around, eyes widening in disbelief when he was met with the sight of a rather miserable-looking Izaya sitting in a squatting position and gripping the raven locks of his bowed head with quivering hands. A soft sound of surprise slipped past his lips, the eerily familiar sight making his stomach knot. For a fraction of a second, he thought this too was a dream, but he immediately dismissed the idea when he remembered with absolute certainty there had been no scar beneath Izaya's lower lip. The other Izaya's words echoed in his mind, “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ve scarred his mind enough,” and he staggered backwards; whatever was happening before his very eyes wasn't supposed to happen, and he refused to acknowledge it. The flea he knew would not under any circumstance break down in front of his most hated enemy. Izaya was supposed to mock and taunt him even while in pain, and yet reality seemed to have slapped Shizuo in the face with a completely opposite picture of what he'd expected from the man. Judging by the sounds coming from the smaller form, Izaya was having a hard time breathing, and much like in the dream he had the night before, Shizuo took a step towards him and raised a hand, the instinct to comfort the quivering creature vying for dominance and eventually overriding the common sense that told him the aggressor was not supposed to console the victim, even if this time around he hadn't exactly assaulted him.
As expected, Izaya recoiled from the touch as though he'd been burned, losing his balance and pathetically falling on his backside, a violent shudder racing through his body and leaving him trembling a lot harder than before. He didn't dare raise his head, but he could feel Shizuo's intense gaze on him and he was certain that Ikebukuro's beast was enjoying the show. How could he not? Shizuo still hated him, and no matter how much the monster kept apologizing, Izaya knew that at least a small part of him had to be rejoicing at sight of him looking so miserable and defeated. Shame ― like he hadn't felt since that day ― overwhelmed him, and he felt disgusted with himself for allowing the man who had done this to him to witness his disgraceful fall. As though the memories of Shizuo thrusting into his beaten, bloody body weren't bad enough, now he also had to deal with the ones where he was making out with the beast who had humiliated him in the worst possible way. He had no choice but to moan for a man who made him feel nothing but pain, for a beast with inhuman strength who had relished his agony and laughed at it; all of it just to keep their ignominious secret. The kiss had been a nightmare in itself, but what really triggered whatever it was that was happening to him was Shizuo's hand on his backside, those cruel fingers digging into his flesh making him feel powerless all over again. Judging by the beast's behavior in general, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't attack him like that again, and yet, as he stared at his trembling knees, he still couldn't make them stop, because his body was not quite catching up to his mind. He weakly raised a hand and tried to get up, but he couldn't get his legs to move. He wanted Shizuo to disappear from there, or for the monster to at least forget ever witnessing such a humiliating display, but no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't magically erase it from Shizuo's mind. The only thing left was killing him, but Izaya had no intention of doing that just yet.
"I'm so sorry..." he heard Shizuo apologize, and no matter how much Izaya wanted to throw him a defiant and mocking glare, he couldn't even raise his head to look at him, not when all he could remember were cold hands, vicious thrusts, and the disgusting breath smelling of tobacco, as well as those cruel words spoken in his ear by the wild, merciless beast doing its best to make him bleed. Instead, he opened his mouth to say something, to tell Shizuo to go fuck himself, or to shove his apologies where the sun didn't shine, but his lips and throat were too dry and he couldn't find his voice. If anything, it felt as though his strength had been sucked right out of his body through that disgusting kiss, and no matter how much he fought to stop the shivers wracking his frame, his body was not listening to him and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering. Even his breathing was too loud, and it formed a horrible tune in his ears as it mingled with the sounds of his wildly beating heart and chattering teeth. The tears prickling at the corners of his eyes stung, but he refused to let them fall, especially when the man who was responsible for his utter destruction was standing right in front of him. His tongue felt like sandpaper and it hurt to swallow, but he kept struggling to speak until he finally found his voice. "You m-must be enjoy...enjoying this," he uttered brokenly, hating how meek his voice sounded. The beast's low growl made him flinch, Izaya's reaction bringing with it a new wave of shame to his already bruised ego.
"I'm not enjoying this," Shizuo replied through clenched teeth, the whole situation reminding him too much of the encounter with the other Izaya. It was like the dream had been a prophecy of some sort, and that unnerved him more than he ever thought possible. He wasn't a hypocrite to say that he cared about Izaya's well-being, but when the man he hurt so deeply was yet again a shaking mess because of him, he couldn't help but drown in guilt. The nefarious chuckle he heard next made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he took a step backwards on instinct, hoping that Izaya would not lash out at him because of what he'd been forced to do.
"But isn't this what you wanted?" Izaya inquired in a spiteful voice.
Even though Izaya couldn't see him, Shizuo still shook his head in denial. "I stopped wanting it ever since our eyes met right after I... after..." but he couldn't finish, the memory of those wounded blood-like eyes staring at him in terror almost making him want to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness, regardless of the fact that Izaya was his enemy and the man who had tried to get him killed before; it didn't even matter that the Informant was a horrible human being, or that Izaya deserved some sort of punishment for his sins. None of that mattered when he could hardly live with himself knowing that he could do that to anyone. Izaya wasn't saying anything, the man staying eerily silent instead of insulting him. "Hey, are you... ok...?" Shizuo reluctantly asked, but he was not deigned with an answer, and because of that, he didn't know what to do. Taking this Izaya into his arms was like asking to get stabbed, and he quickly dismissed the suicidal thought when he realized how insane it sounded. He nervously ran a hand through his hair and approached him, breathing in relief when the man didn't crawl away from him. He slowly extended his hand and offered it to him, all the while wondering why everything felt so damn awkward. He surmised that it had to be because of their earlier kiss, and without thinking, he raised his other hand and ran a finger across his lips. If things had been different between them, if they had been together, it would've most likely ended just as bad; that's what kind of monster Heiwajima Shizuo was. He pulled back his left hand and focused on Izaya again, waiting for the man to react.
Ever so slowly, Izaya raised his head, following the contour of the arm offered to him until their eyes finally locked. No matter how much he wanted to say that he understood Ikebukuro's beast, he couldn't. Shizuo was supposed to laugh at his misery, and yet the stupid beast was looking at him as though he was the one in pain. Izaya's eyes narrowed into slits before moving back to the hand being offered to him; such a laughable gesture coming from the man who had left him to die after doing despicable things to him. At least most of the trembling had ceased, but Izaya's hands still shook with soft tremors, and he slowly tucked them beneath his arms to hide them from his enemy's view. He expected the dumb protozoan to give up, but the idiot was still standing there waiting for him to take his hand. He tried to hold it in, but the laughter still spilled past his lips, empty and broken just like how he felt on the inside. "Why is the beast who trampled on a god trying to help him up?" Izaya asked in a flat tone and smacked the monster's hand away.
"... because I'm sorry," Shizuo answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Now that Izaya had refused his help, he straighten his back and took a step backwards, wanting to give the man some space.
Another apology, Izaya thought bitterly as he placed his palm flat against the ground and pushed himself upwards. The simple act of standing was tiring him out, but he had to move if he wanted to go home. Ignoring the beast watching his every move, he canted his head to the side and worked on dusting off his pants and jacket, until he heard a click followed by the smell of a burning cigarette. He snapped his head in Shizuo's direction so fast that he almost got dizzy, wide eyes transfixed on the stick between the monster's lips. He swallowed thickly and slowly backed away, Shizuo too busy fixing his own clothes to notice how pale the Informant went the moment the smell hit his nostrils. Izaya barely stopped a pathetic whimper from climbing up his throat, and he closed his eyes to at least not see it, but all he could hear were the monster's grunts from back then, his brain unwillingly making the association between the tobacco smell and the beast's sounds of pleasure.
It wasn't until Shizuo's eyes drifted back to Izaya that he noticed something was wrong.
"S-Shizu-chan..." Izaya spoke in a low, pained voice, his eyes still scrunched up in agony. "Put it o-out," he almost begged, the fingers of his right hand painfully digging into his other arm.
"Huh?" Shizuo asked and dumbly stared at the other's pained expression until he realized that Izaya was talking about the cigarette. He immediately hurled it to the ground and stepped on it, all the while cursing under his breath for being so stupid. "I didn't know... I'm sorry, I got confused. The other you didn't mind."
Izaya's eyes fluttered open, revealing confused and at the same time curious brown-red orbs. "What other me?" he asked, but this time his voice was less shaky.
Shizuo sighed loudly and lowered his head, eyes fixed on the cigarette he'd just viciously crushed under the sole of his shoe. "Just a dream I had," he muttered, and then continued when Izaya seemed genuinely interested in finding out more. "It felt so real, you know? You weren't at my apartment last night, were you?"
Izaya slowly shook his head and lowered his hand, his brain no longer bombarded by painful flashbacks. He tilted his head to the side, hoping to hear more about what Ikebukuro's beast had dreamed about.
"It was you... but it wasn't you. At first, I thought it was you, but he didn't have a scar on his thigh, so it couldn't have been you, 'cause you have one, right?"
Izaya blinked a few times before he nodded and slowly approached Shizuo, only stopping a couple of feet from him.
"He thought I was the Shizuo he knew, but he eventually figured out that I wasn't. He... the other you and the other me..." Shizuo said and then continued in a voice so low that Izaya had to strain his ears in order to hear him, "they were together, you see. I mean like really together, even though they seemed to have broken each other too."
Izaya took a step backwards, appalled by the words he'd just heard coming out of the beast's mouth. If Shizuo had dreams about the two of them being together then... "Do you..." and he had to swallow the lump in his throat so that he could continue, "want to... fuck me again?"
Shame and guilt washed over Shizuo, and his expression morphed into one that was just as appalled as Izaya's. "No..." he answered weakly. "NO!"
Izaya fished out both switchblades and flicked them open in one fluid movement before he assumed a fighting stance. If the beast was dreaming about the two of them being together, then he could no longer trust him not to assault him again. Not that he ever trusted him, but he wanted to believe that Shizuo could keep it in his pants.
"You don't have to― goddammit, Izaya, stop looking at me like I'm about to rip your clothes off and fuck you right here on this warehouse's floor," Shizuo snapped, his anger burning so bright that he marched to the small chair he'd been sitting on earlier and kicked it straight into the opposite wall. He then turned around, looking almost livid. "You know what? Screw you, bastard!" he snarled and headed for the heavy door, not even sparing Izaya a glance as he opened it and slammed it with a lot more force than was necessary.
Once he found himself outside, Shizuo hated to admit that he had no idea where he was, but he kept on walking, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the bastard who should've just shot him instead of kissing him. If he'd done that, then Shizuo wouldn't have had to witness Izaya breakdown for a second time in less than twenty-four hours; it was more than even Ikebukuro's beast could handle. He never would've kissed him if he had a choice, but he didn't, and because he'd played along, Izaya ended up looking at him as though he'd just raped him all over again, even though Shizuo himself had been as unwilling during the whole thing.
Shizuo was sorry. He was fucking sorry. He was so sorry about the pain he had caused Izaya that he wanted to curl in a corner and die there like the disgusting animal that he was. As those thoughts consumed him, he felt tears prickle his eyes and he growled, rapidly blinking a few times to chase them away. He'd come close to breaking down a few times too, but each time that happened, he grit his teeth and kept going, waiting for the day when Izaya would get tired of the games and finally plunge one of those switchblades into his heart.
It wasn't that he wanted to die so that he wouldn't feel anymore ― well, maybe a little ― but the main reason why he craved nothingness' sweet embrace was because he genuinely thought he deserved to die for what he'd done, regardless of the reasons he might've had to punish Izaya. He didn't understand it at first, but after seeing Kasuka's beaten body and believing that his little brother had went through the same horrible experience as Izaya, he finally understood that any person who did such a despicable thing to another had to be wiped out of existence. As though he wasn't being tormented enough, he ended up meeting another Izaya through a dream which felt so real that made Shizuo doubt his sanity; a dream that only succeeded in inflating the guilt he already felt towards the bane of his existence. The sad thing was that he still hated Izaya, which made everything that much worse. The guilt made him feel sorry for the pest, but his hatred still burned bright whenever he even so much as looked at him. Shizuo truly loathed himself for doing something that made him feel sorry for the man he hated the most in the entire world.
Every day, he felt torn in half by the hate and the pity he felt for the man. It confused him so much that most of the times he didn't even know how to act around him. He wanted to go back, back to when they were nothing more than enemies hating each other's guts, back to when the flea was still looking at him with disdain instead of fear. "FUCK!" he bellowed at the sky from the top of his lungs. "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!" he kept shouting a few more times before lowering himself into a squatting position ― much like Izaya had done ― and pulling at his hair in both rage and despair. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," he kept repeating through clenched teeth for a while until he could finally breathe again. Only once he was done he released the few blond strands of hair he had grabbed earlier and opened his eyes. "You can't fucking break down," he told himself before he straightened his back and forced his legs to move.
He had no idea for how long he'd been walking, but it was starting to get dark by the time he reached Ikebukuro's busy streets. His clothes were a mess and he was bleeding, but he didn't give a shit as he walked into a shop and ordered a chocolate cake for the taking. The vendor seemed slightly scared of him, so she quickly packed it and handed it to him. Shizuo hoped she didn't mind a few smudges of blood on the bills he'd just handed. He also stopped to buy two cartons of milk, one for when he got home and one for the next morning. His throat was so dry and raw after so much shouting that he couldn't help but cringe each time he had to speak because of how terrible his voice sounded, but he didn't want to drink the milk in the middle of the street, as tempting as that was. He nearly stopped at the pastry shop too, but instead of going in, he balled his hands into fists and kept walking, knowing that he shouldn't overdo it just because he felt like shit.
As soon as he got home, he put the cake and the cartons of milk in the fridge and rushed straight to the shower, glad to finally get rid of the blood caked on his temple and in his hair from where his head had been savagely banged into a wall. He undressed himself as fast as he could and dropped the dirty clothes into the sink, intending to wash them later when he was up to the task. He let out a soft sigh as the hot water pattered his back, and he made up his mind to leave the mulling for when he'd be digging into the chocolate cake while watching TV. He stayed under the shower for a long time, until the water started to turn cold and he had no choice but to get out.
As he stepped out of the shower, he caught his reflection in the mirror and he cringed, realizing that his roots were starting to show. He made a metal note to buy some dye, because he was too used to blonde hair to switch back to his natural black color. He grabbed the towel, dried himself, and then walked out of the small bathroom and headed straight for the sweatpants he'd tossed on the bed when he woke up, the same ones he remembered wearing in his messed up dream. "I should've kept my mouth shut," he mumbled to himself before he put them on and went to retrieve the cake he'd bought.
The thing was a bit too big, but it didn't really matter. He shrugged and set it on a plate before he grabbed a spoon and went into the living room where he sat down on the couch with a pleasurable sigh. He then grabbed the remote control and changed the channels a few times until he finally found a decent enough movie that he thought he would be able to watch without getting annoyed. He reclined on the couch, put his feet on the coffee table and dug into the cake, eyes almost rolling into his head at how sweet it tasted. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really want to mull over the day's events just yet, and he firmly told himself ― as he shoved another spoonful of cake into his mouth ― that even someone like him should be allowed to have a small respite once in a while.
- 37
- 38
- 39
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Blind Fury