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"I don't like you."
Izaya had not even opened his mouth to introduce himself to the subject of his recent observations when he heard the blunt stab of the blonde's voice bleed into his ears and sink into his chest.
Time stopped inside his head -- Izaya felt as if in free-fall. The ground had just been yanked from below him; it took him all he had to keep up the condescending smirk and swallow back the lump in his throat.
After a few moments that might as well have been hours, he opened an eye. "Oh?" He sighed, hoping his voice didn't shake as much as his hope did. "That's too bad. And here I thought we could have some fun together."
"Shut up," the brute snarled, turning his back on the young Orihara again.
In general, Orihara Izaya didn't mind blending in with the crowd, going by unnoticed. When observing, it was always for the best that the observed did not know of his presence there, or did but considered him irrelevant. He'd grown used to it.
However, Shizuo had seen him.
That day, looking through the large glass window from the higher floor, Izaya's blood-colored eyes had met the flaming amber of the blonde's, and he smiled because he knew right then Shizuo was different.
Perhaps he could understand him.
Perhaps he could understand why the raven treated people the way he did, often accused of being "cruel".
Perhaps he could understand what not even Izaya's family could.
Perhaps he could see through the layers of fake goodwill, toxic evil and distorted love to save him from the world...and himself.
That's why Izaya cared. He wanted Shizuo's entire and absolute attention, since he was willing to surrender himself to the monster who so desperately wanted to be one of his beloved humans.
However, the blonde had dismissed him before he could even start. His very presence was being ignored as hardly as the other could, the attention seeked oozing through his fingers with every loud beat and churn of his heart.
That's when he decided.
Since Shizuo had denied him the chance to get his attention, Izaya would take it by force. After all, he was not a good person.
So if he couldn't have Shizuo's love, then he would claim all of his hatred.
A razor-sharp smirk stuck like a slash on his face. "Don't say that, Shizuo-kun."
It was addictive. Once he got what he wanted, Izaya could only want more of the feeling of his heart thrumming in his ears, his blood burning his veins from the inside out, his predator hunting him -- and only him.
But that would be the only way he'd have Shizuo, smirks and curses and blades and punches. No warmth, no bonding, no belonging.
No love, only hatred -- and that scar across his chest would be Izaya's confession, the only one the monster would get, even if not understand.
As for Izaya himself, he decided he'd had his share of humanity. Participating was far too risky, especially if it involved losing his posture as soon as his bedroom door slammed shut to stumble downhill into the pits of heartbreak.
That night didn't exist for any record, except for a soaked pillow in the single bed of a homeless teenager.
In his dreams, he decides the pain is not worth it.
They say that in the first four minutes of your first meeting with someone, they form their opinion about you. That opinion may change later on, of course, but it's the first impression that normally determines whether or not you would like to meet that person again.
Unfortunately, neither Orihara Izaya nor Heiwajima Shizuo are men willing to change.
...At least not for each other.