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They were oil and water; never mixing unless you shake it up enough, the bubbles swirling around one another. They could never join, never become whole, but they were something together. They were toxic. They were fire and ice, the stars and the earth, a god and a monster.
He could always tell when Shizuo was around. The yelling of his name, screams of fear from innocent bystanders, the sounds of metal crunching and bending with the force of the beast’s inhuman strength. It was always the same, and Izaya’s heart always raced when he heard the familiar sounds. It was always predictable, but sometimes Shizuo could be so unpredictable; like the day Shizuo was silent.
He heard the noises first; the terrified shrieks, the creaking of steel bending, but not Shizuo’s voice. Usually he would yell, holler, tell Izaya to get the hell out of Ikebukuro, to go die, something. But there was nothing.
He saw Shizuo storming up to him, the vicious glare ever present in his eyes.
A smirk played at his lips, the one Shizuo always hated. The fake one, used to hide his emotions.
He was curious about what was going on in Shizuo’s head, but also slightly concerned. Shizuo is never quiet, not like this. He was generally quiet around his friends, not saying much when he’s calm, but the obvious rage that contorted his face into a frown never allowed Shizuo to be civil around Izaya. No yelling of his name, no growling, no grumbling. Nothing.
“Ah, Shizu-chan,” he said, watching with a cautious eye as Shizuo stops a couple feet from him. A street pole was in his hands, bent like a fragile straw. “Always so eager to come play with me.”
Shizuo just stood there silently, his shoulders heaving up and down with rage. He still made no sound.
“What’s the matter Shizu-chan? Cat got your tongue?”
Again, nothing. Shizuo only tilts his head, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he observes the raven in front of him. He makes a move closer to him, dropping the street sign against the pavement with a clatter. As he advances Izaya matches his steps backwards away from him.
“Don’t,” he warns, his hands instinctively diving into his pockets. His fingers brush against the familiar cold metal of his knife, and it relaxes his nerves slightly. “I see Shizu-chan wants to play with me so badly, but-“ his words are cut off with a huff as he backs into a wall. He hadn’t realised, but Shizuo had slowly been backing him into an alley. The beast had him trapped.
“Ah, very clever Shizu-chan, you learned how to use your simple little brain to think of a plan to trap me. I’m proud of you.”
Shizuo stalks closer, a mere foot apart, if that. He raises a hand to Izaya, and he instantly fears the worst. He could easily kill him right here, no one would find his body in such a lonely dirty alley, would anyone even care?
“Seems you forgot how to speak, however. Can your brain only handle one thought process at once?” He asks, trying to look away from Shizuo’s intense stare.
He stood motionless as he watched the expressions on Izaya’s face. He was too close, too silent.
“Stupid protozoan!” He says, which brings a small pout to the ex-bartender’s lips. “Stop staring at me like that.” He demands.
Shizuo slightly shakes his head no, a movement he would have barely noticed if he wasn’t this close. He could feel his breath intermingling with his own, far too close for comfort. Shizuo grabs Izaya’s wrists, pinning him against the wall. He tries to struggle away from the iron grip, but to no avail. Shizuo wasn’t about to let him go so easily.
“Shizu-chan, let go,” he pleads, squirming against him. “Stop just staring at me! This isn’t like you, you’re supposed to yell, scream, say something!”
There was a pause, both of them astonished by Izaya’s outburst. A faint blush pinks his cheeks as he looks away from Shizuo, who simply gives a small smile in response, then leans closer to him.
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Shizuo whispers, only a breath away from Izaya’s lips.
Izaya sighs, glancing down at the other’s mouth. “How could I forget, Shizu-chan?” He says, then waits for Shizuo to make the move, which of course he does.
Their lips meet, and Shizuo kisses him with such gentle care, Izaya loses himself and melts into Shizuo’s grasp. He could never forget the feeling of Shizuo’s lips against his own, the way he holds him close, the way Shizuo plays with his hair as he sleepily mumbles that he loves him while they cuddle for warmth at night in Shizuo’s small apartment.
“I love you, Shizuo. I could never forget,” Izaya says, cooing softly, “happy anniversary.”