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Shizuo turned around in front of his full length mirror for the third or fourth time, admiring his reflection with a sliver of apprehension. He looked good. In fact, he looked better than good, but damn, how much had this cost his brother, really? Just by looking at the articles of clothing while they were still in the boxes, he could tell they were expensive. But now, as he wore them and felt the quality of the fabrics, he nearly ran out into the living room where Kasuka was waiting and demand he return them. And he really didn't want to do that, even as thinking so made guilt overpower his worry for his brother's finances.
As he ran his palms over his torso and twirled for the last time, he gave in and decided not to immediately bitch out Kasuka. A little indulgence every now and then was normal, anyway, Shizuo rationalized. And, wow, did he look good or what? He fingered the stiff white collar that lay against his neck, touching the tiny golden buttons on the end of each lapel. Over the white button down was a smart black vest reminiscent of the one he wore on a daily basis, and overtop of it all was a fitted grey blazer made of an incredibly soft, stretchy fabric that he couldn't name if his life suddenly depended on it, that was closed in the center by a single black button. Each layer conformed to the shape of his body perfectly, and he wondered how Kasuka had managed it.
He'd also been given a pair of jeans made of dark denim that was the right amount of tight, and a black cloth belt with a silver metal buckle made into a simple loop settled at his hips. What really set the ensemble off, though, were the shoes and gloves. They were both "italian leather", the only words spoken by his brother as he gifted him with the outfit, and a color called london tan, according to the tags at his wrist and heel. Shizuo couldn't stop clenching his hands once he'd put them on, loving the smooth texture on his fingers. Kasuka really knew how to give presents. And it wasn't even his birthday!
Leaning back on his heels, he struck an impromptu pose, hands sliding into the pockets on the front of his blazer. The extravagance of the outfit outshined the dingy interior of his bedroom, and he almost felt ashamed. These clothes deserved to be seen on a catwalk, not on his body. Sloughing out a sigh, Shizuo reminded himself that he'd be keeping the gift, and returned to living room to show his brother that everything fit and no, nothing needed to be exchanged.
Kasuka nodded once in a show of approval, and slid a piece of paper over, a shopping list apparent in his signature scrawl. Shizuo brought it to his face, frowning. Sure, his fridge was pretty bare and Kasuka had come over unannounced, but... "I can't go out like this."
His brother raised a single eyebrow. Shizuo squinted, and huffed. "What if something happens and I... fall in a mud puddle, or something?" Kasuka lidded his eyes in a dry look. Shizuo sighed, grumbling to himself as he turned for the door, "Everyone's gonna stare... just great..." He would kick his feet if he weren't afraid of scuffing the leather. Man, this sucked. Who goes out to the grocery store at 9pm dressed like he was? No one, that's who.
He cursed his fate and his stubborn brother as he walked down the two flights of stairs and out onto the sidewalk. He ran a gloved hand through his hair, figuring that the closest store that had what his brother wanted was twelve blocks away. Could be worse, and the night was turning cool, so at least he wouldn't sweat in his new clothes. Shizuo pulled out the money clip he kept cigarettes in when he found out earlier that a regular pack wouldn't fit inside his new jeans pocket. He lit up, marveling at how the cigarette felt between the leather, then started to walk.
He was six blocks and two cigarettes in when he felt the bass start to reverberate inside his chest. Fuck it all, but Shizuo'd forgotten that this route put him directly in the path of a string of nightclubs. Now he'd have to dodge some drunk assholes. Kasuka was lucky he'd just given him one hell of a gift, or he might've had to tamper with the pudding he liked so much.
Shizuo was sidestepping a faltering teenager when he saw him.
Izaya, stalking out of one of the clubs, sweaty and leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. Shizuo had to double take, and the inherent rage upon seeing him was choked out before it had a chance to rise. It crumbled under the presence of Izaya's attire, and he had the chance to rake his eyes along the entire, salacious expanse of it while he, thankfully, remained unnoticed.
Shizuo started from the ground up, having been enamored by vicious looking stiletto heels, black and slim and shiny. His long legs looked to be dipped in black spandex, gleaming buckles, and revealing mesh. Buckled straps wrapped around his knees and high on his left thigh, mesh overlaid by straps littered with silver spikes ran along his outer thighs, and ropes of black ribbon crisscrossed and drew up on the outside of his calves. The button of his fly was undone, while yet another strap circled his hips to cross over his zipper. Intense, and... Shizuo's adams apple bobbed, tight. Fuck.
He tore his eyes away from the myriad of accessories adorning the pants, and his breath stopped in his throat. Izaya was wearing an under bust corset made of black pvc that cinched critically at the waist, affording him a hypnotizing hourglass shape. The corset left the planes of his chest completely exposed, and Shizuo watched, mesmerized as tiny pink nipples pebbled under the cold lick of the air.
The only other thing Izaya was wearing was a short sleeveless vest, not even long enough to cover his shoulder blades, with a fur-lined hood drawn up over Izaya's head. It was black pleather, while the fake white fur stood out starkly against the dark. Izaya's head was bowed, the hood hiding his face and his eyes that were giving Shizuo a subtler appraisal. He jerked his head up suddenly, the hood falling to hang around his neck. It hung lower than the hemline of his vest.
Shizuo nearly took a step back, but forced himself to stand his ground and ended up fidgeting instead. Neither said anything in a moment of strange peace in a usually tumultuous relationship, if it could even be called that.
Izaya was the one to break first. "Fancy meeting you here, Shizu-chan. And my, how debonair you look." Even as he teased, his voice lacked the sharp edge it regularly used to cut with, and crimson eyes drooped in exhaustion, plus something else Shizuo couldn't name. If he were crazy, he'd call it weariness.
Shizuo snorted. "And you look like you just stepped off of a street corner. Fancy that."
Izaya rolled with the weak barb. "These pants would make earning a decent night's pay uncomfortable, certainly." He gestured to the buckles resting on his kneecaps. Shizuo shook his head in disgust.
A wind blew past, taking with it the rattling sound of Izaya's laughter. The steel bones of his corset dug into his ribs, making his lungs work for that short stint of breath. He sighed, the effort in it vaguely hurting him. "Welp, this has been fun and all, but I better get back to work. Catch you later, Shizuo."
The slip of his name clogged any retort he could make right up. He wondered if Izaya had even realized it, as he watched him turn to reveal the long lengths of string lacing up his back. The abrupt clack of heels was the soundtrack of Izaya's exit into the thrumming club. Shizuo frowned and stared as he disappeared.
He stood motionless for a second, then moved to snap open his money clip. He slipped a cigarette between his lips, and began to walk again while he lit up. Shizuo's thoughts were silent as he blew out a silvery plume of smoke, the sound of his name ringing in his ears and burning on the back of his tongue.
END