デュラララ!!

“Oh?”, he asks, casually, his everlasting grin neither fading nor growing wider. It remains resting on his lips elegantly as if calculated with ease and practiced to perfection. Though his eyes tell a different story, the glimmer inside his brown orbs giving away the excitement.

They practically scream ‘I found your weakspot then, huh?’ and give away y/n’s doom.

“Is that so?” he chuckles and sets down his drink, his movements - again - nothing less than graceful and thought through. Amusement lingers in his tone, which also is not out of character for the mischievious informant, but hits different in this specific scenario.

He’s clearly dragging out the moment and enjoying their embarrassment. Then again, how could he not? It would be a shame to not get the most out of this. Considering how lovely they look with that particular shade of pink dusting their cheeks, dedicated to only him. How sweet they appear sitting next to him, eyes wandering off to the ground in a pathetic but charming attempt to avoid his gaze. How endearing they act with their nervous fingers clinging to the glass in their hand, their fingertips slightly tracing the rim in a shaking matter.

They struggle to find words as they are still shocked about their own sudden outburst. ‘I like you.’ how silly was that?

There are so many possibilities. So many ways to entice the utmost exciting reactions from them. They are so vulnerable for him right now, it’s ridiculous.

He knows he will regret getting impatient. Yet that does not stop him. Before their lips can even part to justify their confession, his hand reaches out to cup their face. Once the knuckle of his finger, accompanied by the cool touch of his metal ring, as well as his thumb gently but confidently take ahold of their chin, they forget whatever words they had struggled to come up with anyway. Tilting their face upwards, Izaya leans in closer.

Slowly.

In such a carefully slow manner, it must be on purpose to torture them further.

Once their noses touch and their breath gently brushes against each other, an ever so faint hint of the sweet alcoholic taste hovering in the small space left between their mouths…

he stops.

Whereas their gaze was focused on Izaya’s lips beforehand, it now travels across his features, setting on his half-lidded eyes. If the tension keeps up for another second, they’ll surely burst.

“I-Izaya, I’m-” the mumble shyly, but are cut off.

“Shh, now. There’s no need to say anything,” he whispers softly and his breath tickles their lips delicately.

Neither of the two make another movement. For a while, time freezes. At first, they grow more tense and uncomfortable, not knowing how to react to the raven’s shennanigans. Eventually though, they settle in this position, relaxing at the touch of his palm tracing their jawline and ultimately resting at their neck. His fingers barely run through their hair, just caressing their scalp and tucking a strand of hair behind their ear.

“I like you, too, Y/N,” he says. No smirk, no mocking voice, no sign of him acting like a trickster. It’s so unusual that it’s almost suspicious in itself. For a brief second, at least. “I thought you already knew. I do consider you as a dear friend, after all,” he adds with a chuckle and they slightly flinch.

They know he’s pulling their strings. He isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he wants them to repeat their words, wants them to explain the way they feel about him. To an extent, it’s cruel of him. But for the moment, they don’t mind being his toy. They’ve already given in.

"No, not in that way,” they mutter beneath their breath, fully aware that their voice would give out if they spoke up any louder.

"What do you mean, not in that way? I know exactly how you mean it,” Izaya snickers, thus confirming their suspicions. He’s reading their mind like an open book. “I’ve known all this time.”

They slightly purse their lips and attempt to free themselves from his grip, but Izaya crosses their intention by placing his lips on top of theirs. The kiss lasts for a solid while, alternating between slowly dragging skin against skin and experimentally pushing tongues against each other, before both pull away to catch some air.

The growl in his tone should’ve served as a warning, but she remains stubborn. She was never really scared of Shizuo. Although he couldn’t understand how she didn’t think of him as nothing but a brute, he was thankful for her accepting attitude towards him. Otherwise they probably wouldn’t have ended up together in the first place.

Pouting, hands at her hips and brows furrowed she throws a glare at him and it infuriates him even further. “I’m not a dumpster for your bad mood, Shizuo. I just want to help you.”

The implication that he can’t control himself and – even worse – takes it out on her, drives him insane. Ironic, isn’t it? Thinking about it in retrospect, he knows how ridiculous it is, but that doesn’t help in any way, shape or form.

All he sees is red and he feels the adrenaline kick in. So he reacts quickly and just leaves, not wanting the situation to escalate any further. He can’t remember telling her “I don’t want your help.”, even though it’s something she points out in a later conversation. To him it’s a wonder he hasn’t said or done anything worse, but he can’t really recall any of it – as if blacked out. He remembers storming off and he remembers shattering the nearest trash bin to pieces to a point where the only thing left behind might as well have been dust.

After having a smoke and finishing the cigarette, he’s somewhat calmed down. He still ignores anyone passing by since he’s lost in thought and tries to reflect on what just happened. He knows he’s in the wrong here, but her judgemental attitude still bothers him.

After a while, he walks back home, somewhat hopeful that she would be sitting there and waiting for him still, but the apartment is empty. A note on the table says “please call me when you feel better.” in pretty handwriting and now he really feels like an asshole. He knows she’s just worried and caring and he know’s he overreacted.

But even though Shizuo truly wants to call her, he never manages to bring up the courage to do so. He wants to apologize, but something inside him tells him that maybe it’s just better off this way. Thinking back to the trash can he destroyed makes him shudder. Sure, this time he was able to draw back from the situation and cool off without hurting her. But what if he snaps again next time? What if he does end up hurting her in the process? He could never forgive himself.

Much to the dismay of any of Tom’s clients, the days pass on without Shizuo calling his girlfriend. Not having talked to her in what must’ve been a week by now, his mood just worsens. Torn between missing her and wanting to stay away from her for her own sake, his patience wears thin and a single misused word from anyone would have him throw punches.

“Call her,” Tom sighs after yet another fist fight between his friend and a customer. So far he had little complaints, since Shizuo would rarely truly go apeshit. Him showing hints of annoyance or frustration was often enough to scare non-paying clients in debt and make them return the money at once. But clearly, this is getting out of hand.

Flinching at the suggestion, Shizuo shakes his head. “What for? She’s better off without–”

“Don’t give me that ‘she deserves better’ crap. Whatever happened between you guys, you should talk about it. Take a day off and call her,” Tom sighs as he’s giving his friend a meaningful stare that allows for no backtalk. “Otherwise ,I’ll do it myself.” He pats Shizuo’s shoulder twice before raising it in order to wave him goodbye.

Shizuo keeps standing in place for a good minute until at least grabbing his phone. He can’t do more than stare at the screen, though, before he shoves it back into his pocket and gets home. The second the door closes behind him is the very same second his eyes catch the sight of her note still sitting on the same spot on the table.

“please call me when you feel better.”

A deep sigh escapes Shizuo’s lungs. He certainly doesn’t feel better at all. In fact, it keeps getting worse and definitely more difficult to ring her up. He drops onto his couch and tries to distract himself, but every few seconds his glance lands on the small piece of paper, which cruelly reminds him to man up.

“Screw it,” he finally thinks as he dials her number and presses the phone to his ear. Will she even pick up? It’s been roughly 10 days since they last spoke with each other. Maybe she’s settled with the situation and accepted it as a final breakup?

The sound of the ringing makes him anxious for just a second, as shortly after, he hears a familiar tune just outside his door. Lifting his head to the apartment entrance, Shizuo stands up and holds his phone a few centimeters away from his ear to listen for the source of the music. When it abruptly stops, he hears a softly spoken “H-hello?” coming from both his phone and from outside his front door. Instead of verbally answering, he steps to his apartment’s entrance and opens it.

“…Hi,” the blonde speaks somewhat awkwardly into his cell phone while looking her right into the eyes. She glances right back up at him, her phone still in her hands as well, neither of them hanging up the call.

“Tom told me you were home,” she explains, eyes still not leaving his and her phone still held to the side of her face. ‘You didn’t even give me a chance to call her back, Tom.’ Shizuo quietly thinks to himself, even though he feels sort of thankful for his friend’s help after all. A few seconds of silence fills the space between the two. “Can I come in?”

Shizuo steps aside and finally hangs up the call. She does the same while walking past him.

“I hope I’m not bothering you…,” she mumbles in an apologetic manner and Shizuo can’t stop looking at her. God, has he been missing her. “I-it’s just… Tom said you weren’t feeling too well.. and uh– I.. just came to check if everything’s alright and–”

Interrupting her excuses to visit him, Shizuo wraps his arms around her and within a moment walks her to the couch before settling on it, his head resting in the crook of her neck and taking in her scent and warmth. “I’m fine now that you’re here.”

A relieved sigh escapes her lips as she starts playing with his bleached locks. “I thought you might still be angry with me,” she mutters and when Shizuo glances up, he’s met with a frowning expression.

“I never was,” he replies and carefully places a gentle peck to her forehead. “I was angry at myself, you know? And you were right, I took that out on you and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry,” he sighs and pulls her closer into his embrace. “I should’ve called you back immediately. I was just… scared. I don’t want to– you know. What if I end up hurting you?”

“Well, but you didn’t. You never did.”

The shine in her eyes is so innocent and hopeful that it reminds Shizuo how fragile she truly might be without even being aware of it. She feels like glass in his rough grasp, ready to shatter at any given point.

“Not yet, but–,” he tries to express his concerns, but his words are cut off by a small kiss to his lips.