He's Such a Coward He Can Laugh
He's Such a Coward He Can Laugh
He's Such a Coward He Can Laugh
A/N: This fanfiction is based on the Japanese sub of the anime, not the manga (or the dub). Though I mention Izaya's sisters (who only appear in the manga and very briefly in the last episode of the anime), I haven't really read the manga, so forgive any inconsistencies that appear as a result. I also include some Japanese honorifics, and in case you are not familiar: -san, a term of respect or addressing someone older; like mr. or miss. -chan, addressing an equal or someone younger (sometimes used as a term of endearment or to indicate that something is cute), perceived as passive or feminine. -kun, addressing an equal or someone younger, perceived as aggressive or masculine. No suffix, intimately familiar like immediate family or lovers. Alternately a sign of deep disrespect if used on unfamiliar terms. I do this to show that Izaya often uses inappropriate familiarity when he speaks to people. Story codes not on the AFF list: edgeplay, drug use and role-reversal. Oh yeah, I don't own these guys, nor do I make money off this. *sighs...* -_-; Enjoy! R/R plz, repost due to glitch :)
He's Such a Coward He Can Laugh
Chapter One
An Introduction
(((Heiwajima Shizuo)))
I couldn't decide if I wanted to beat him to death with my fists or rape that smirk right off of his face.
Ugh. Just thinking about that pest makes me want to chuck the first vending machine I see all the way to Shinjuku, or wherever he likes to skulk about, doing dirty business for god knows what reasons.
Orihara Izaya.
I guess I was in a reminiscent mood this morning in the shower, because the bastard invaded my thoughts like a freight train, and wouldn't go away. Ever since I saw him back in Ikebukuro playing what could be none other than head-games with those high-schoolers from Raira, that rage overtook me again, and even though it had subsided enough to not destroy everything in my path, it still bubbled and boiled in my gut.
Just remembering those days brought heat to my face; made me tremble; made me swell up from rage and desire. Hatred and longing – what a strange combination. It pissed me right the fuck off every time I thought about how I just played right into his hands, and whenever I see him messing with someone else the same way, it makes me even angrier. If only it had been obvious that he was a manipulative fiend, but no, a hummingbird couldn't catch him at work. When he acted sincere, you actually thought he meant it. Sarcastic wit was the jam to the havoc and mayhem that was his bread and butter.
I guess that's what allowed me to fall into his trap in the first place.
Raira was a prestigious school, so I wasn't really surprised that Shinra got in too. I wasn't really surprised at his pestering to examine me in some way, shape or form either; he'd been doing it ever since I'd lifted that fridge to throw at Kasuka and nearly snapped my neck in two.
Shinra didn't know I'd already met my nemesis by the time he'd introduced us. Far more than met.
“37, 54, 12... dammit...” I muttered.
“... but seriously, I've been thinking about the massive amount of damage you've sustained over the years. Think about it, Shizuo-kun!” Shinra was babbling. “Any other person would be permanently crippled by now! Aren't you in the least bit interested how your body can take that kind of punishment?!”
I wasn't really listening. “37, 54, 12... fuck!” I cursed, biting my lip. No, don't get angry here, not a stupid locker... the school would charge my parents money for damages, and they'd already had enough of that from middle-school. Not on the first day here...
“I mean... you broke my arm four years ago and it still aches when it rains...” Shinra continued. I was grateful when his cell phone busted out with the Friday the 13th theme. “Oh? Hang on, Shizuo-kun, it's Celty. I gotta take this. … Hello? … No, I haven't seen my uncle in a long time...” He of course, wandered off, leaving me in a puddle of frustration at the goddamn locker!
“37... 54 ...12.... MOTHER FF–!!” I raised my fist.
“Need some help?”
There he was, leaning against the locker next to mine, wearing a sympathetic smirk. Everything about him screamed “rebellion.” His outfit, his posture, his expression... for a second I just stared he was so out of place.
“There's a trick to it, you know,” the guy said unprompted. He spun my lock deftly, gave the locker a light tap in the bottom corner with his shoe and the damn thing popped right open. “You'll get used to it, I'm sure.”
It took me a moment to reorient myself, but the moment quickly passed and I began to unload my books into the tiny metal compartment. “Where's your uniform?” I finally asked.
The boy laughed. “What an interesting opening! I think I like you already. I'm home-schooled, I only come here for exams and certain extracurricular activities.”
“Home schooling is for retards and trouble-makers,” I shot at him.
“I guess I would be a trouble-maker, then! They didn't like me in middle-school.” Smile, smile, smile. Something about him was fascinating at the time. I could not take my eyes away from him. I didn't know why. “Ah! Where are my manners. My name is Orihara Izaya.”
“Heiwajima Shizuo,” I replied, shaking his hand slowly. He wore a ring on his index finger on both hands. Curiosity was building. Why would this delinquent take such an interest in me?
“Oh!? You're the one who rips up road signs and bashes them over people's heads, right?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Ah. Well, that must be irritating.”
“What?”
“Being known for something you can't control... something you hate.”
I looked him right in the eye – he was being serious. How...? I'd just met him two minutes ago and... “Izaya-san...”
His cell phone came to life, the theme to some cheesy popular anime at the time. It sounded cheesy anyway. I wondered if he had set it to sound like that on purpose. “Yo. Oh, right, I'll be right there. No, I didn't forget, do I ever? Haha. I should be done by noon, you'll have the goods, right? Good, good. See you then. Peace.” He winked at me. “Gotta jet, Shizu-chan! It was nice meeting you. I'm sure we'll see each other again.”
And he was gone.
At that first meeting, sex had been the last thing on my mind. I was still trying to figure out the female orgasm, like most sixteen-year-olds, so my sexual identity hadn't fully coalesced yet.
I suppose Izaya would be the reason I'd sworn off men forever anyway. I guess it was for the best, even though he was the one that had broken the damaging spell that rage had upon my body.
Our next meeting wasn't so docile.
**end chapter one**
**Preview Chapter Two: The Ninth Floor**
He never stopped smiling. Not once. I don't think he ever intended on letting me get the upper hand, though he might have played at it. “Oh my. Whatever shall I do?”
“Don't be facetious, ass.”
“Are you gonna hit me?” he chided. He was actually provoking me. Something he grew to be very, very good at.
So I tried to hit him. I suppose as my strength can come as a shock to some people, Izaya's dexterity comes as a shock to me to this day. He wiggled out and tripped me so I toppled onto the couch. He was on top of me in an instant with that predator look again. I might have gotten angry, but his knee was squarely on my crotch. But despite the very vulnerable position I was in with his hands pinning my wrists, the heat rushed to my face again. His nose was a breath away from mine, his dark eyes gleaming with some plot to seduce me. Well fuck, I'd just let him, hadn't I? I might not have been able to lay a hit on him, but in a wrestling match it was no contest. I could have thrown him across the room easily.
But I didn't.
“I love it when you blush,” he told me just over a whisper...