WARNING!

— Who wants to take whom hostage and who wants to hit whom from behind, huh?? SEEEEENNPPAAAAIII!!??

Shizuo adopts a ready stance, and Izaya sneers; the humour in his face is lost. For a good second – no, for as long as the creature keeps running his mouth – that’s the only expression he wears, raw and honest and disgusted. His verbal peace offering’s tossed in the trash. Shizuo hits him with an offer of his own, all coarse language and I’m going to kill you, like always. There’s a second where he thinks – maybe he should be the bigger man here, walk away and save them both the trouble. There’s a second where he thinks.

But thinking is wasted on a brute like this.

He closes the distance until there’s none at all.

‘Sorry? What’s that?’ he starts, voice taking on that tone: that bright tone Shizuo usually gets, naive and cheerful and godawful annoying. It’s been months since he used it; he lays it on thick. ‘That’s terrible, Shizu-chan. What ever happened to you “controlling your temper?” Did you already forget about that? I know your brain’s taxed as it is, but honestly… that was way too fast! What’s next – what if you forget how to talk?’

He tries to look worried; he really does. But the annoyance is seeping in, and the smile on Izaya’s face is merciless.

‘– oops. My bad. You barely talk as it is, so that wouldn’t be a problem, huh?’

Shizuo: silent, destructive, finally seen by the world as what he’s supposed to be. Whatever sympathy idiots have for him would be lost. He’d have no more friends, no more life… and he’d burn himself out, much like a roaring candle in the wind.

God. Wouldn’t that be a dream.

‘You can’t just threaten people on the street. I know it’s different on whatever planet you’re from, but here, actions have consequences. Try to keep up.’

Izaya buries a hand in his coat. He leans that tiniest bit forward.

‘Unless –

The demeaning look his elder whisked was something he could handle, something that he was used to. Typically when around the guy, the appearance of faux happy, well rounded and even on occasion, charming individual was washed away to reveal the true beast inside. A twisted expression, a hateful glimmer in the pupils, other times a jilted smile that screamed ‘I want you dead’, were just some of the many facial features, he, as a target saw. Used to it at best, and never really thinking much too more than how it irritated him to see it, he could honestly say- having to witness it again wasn’t something that phased him. No. What phased him was the followup that came after the glower of repulsion. The sudden movement, otherwise known as-

The breaking of personal barriers. 

He knew, and Izaya knew, that he didn’t like people close to him. When someone got in your face it meant they had the upper hand, the aggression. As an aggressor himself, that wasn’t doing it for him. In fact, it was only pissing him off even more considering he’d not only been pushed, but completely forced into the defensive alignment. Meaning, the moment that distance was closed, there was no denying the spark of rigidness and the upper lip curl he sported. If the jacket wearing, destructive bastard wanted to corner someone into feeling and fleeting to animalistic instincts--

He just got it.

His first act in response is to loom forward and use his height, along with his broader body structure to completely shadow over the smaller’s. He knows, without thinking, that he has the upper hand in strength here. The closer his enemy is to him, the more likely they’re going to ever-so bluntly, ‘get the shit knocked out of them’, and the informant is no exception to that rule. He also knows, and takes into account, that there are people watching. Eyes staring. Mumbles flickering across lips as friends lean into each other to point out the scene that has tensions high. 

He should keep that in mind. He should do the mutual thought of ‘be the bigger man’, but like always. The temptation that strikes into him as the dirty flea speaks is just too strong. Too thick. Relapse into old behaviors is a common thing, and as far as he’s concerned; not always a flaw.

So he presses closer and knocks his chest straight into the set of shoulders positioned towards his own body. Then. Then he does something that isn’t too bright, but comes to action anyway. He leans in, lowers his head closer and stares the devil straight in the eye, small flecks of a golden brown in his own flaring. 

“Are you going to keep talking.” 

The question itself is said more as a cold statement, and he holds it as deep as he possibly can, using what lowered tone he has to try and keep it between them. As much as what is being thrown at him stabs and cuts, he doesn’t have the time to mull over it now. No. In the present he actually doesn’t have much of the time for anything, especially considering what the corner of his gaze spots as movement is made.

The hand went in the pocket. 

That means there’s a step being made that’s trying to best his own. That also means there’s something there and in a few seconds, he’s going to have yet another scar across his torso if he doesn’t move. But moving. Moving means too much to him. Moving means he’s showing fear. Showing fear means that’s what Izaya not only wants, but gets and what Izaya gets is not what Shizuo wants. They can’t live together in the same city for that very reason and for a brief moment, he actually considers what he should do.

Of course, then it’s all red.

What thought and rationalization he had is simply thrown out the window by the following statement. 

Monster.  

Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster.

I’m not.

   {🚫—} Alright, so he has almost no clue what this person just went off about.  The thing about the hierarchy of needs he understood, but then there was something about a brain in a jar and he’s not really into the whole philosophical way of looking at the human anatomy. Meaning, he’s going to do what he can to forget anything about that, give a shift and shake his head. 

Doing something he’s not supposed to, apparently, waiting for the light to change like a normal human being. Most people wouldn’t have had a problem with that – with him standing amidst the crowd, phone to his ear, pretending like he could just waltz through his day completely undisturbed. But no. What most people don’t realise is that this is terrible – horrible – disgusting, a mockery of everything sacred and more. This is wrong.

– because he’s the monster here. Clearly.

‘… Shizu-chan. I’m on the phone.’

　　　　　He says, perfectly reasonable, shaking the mobile pointedly at the other man. He turns away, tucks the phone between his head and ear as he gestures for one moment of peace. The voice on the other end of the line is irate, and it only gets worse – the man hangs up and the sound of lost business beeps in his ear miserably.

… he turns back, looking unamused and unimpressed…

And he’s the monster here. Clearly.

‘I’d ask how you’re doing, but you look the same as ever,’ Izaya comments first, doing a pointed sweep of Shizuo’s ridiculous get-up. People are eager to part as he steps away from the crowd. ‘Act the same as ever, too. New town, and this is how you act? You only get one first impression, you know.

　　　　　‘… actually, you should know that better than anyone.’

His phone’s back in his pocket. So are his hands, and he’s sizing Shizuo up with a flat look, head tilted the slightest way back.

‘Look. I’ve got things to do. You’ve got… something…’–he squints–’You need to take care of. Right? We don’t have to do this. Not unless you plan to start something.’ He shrugs his shoulders; people are staring. This is all perfectly reasonable. ‘If you think I’ve got the time or the patience to mess with you today… you’re even dumber than I thought. Just walk away.’

Because he had the time to figure out that Shizuo was in the city. Because he’d go out of his way to try to start a fight, pointless for them both. Because he was the monster here, clearly, and he hated Shizu-chan so much, he’d risk life and limb to ruin his reputation.

He’s not a monster.

But, well. Those other things…

People.

God he hated people. Not in the sense that he thought they were all worthless or that humanity was disgusting, keep in mind, but more along the matter that they judged. They judged so fast and so quick that there was no way around it. He wanted so badly to appease the greater masses, to be in front of them and have respect or maybe a child not cower behind their mother’s leg for once but look up to him as a role model. He desired nothing but to be loved, admired, treated as an equal over than a predator who could swipe away a whole family’s history with the sweep of a sign. And yet-

All he got from endless wishing was this guy.

This wretched, foul and showcase of a man who was coming closer with each fleeting second. This talkative, never ending spout of words that they both knew would trigger the mind of a raged animal. This cloaked, hooded monster. Yeah. That was right. No matter how much or how long Izaya denied it, he was nothing but a deviant in the guise of a rabbit. That alone was enough to make you a nightmare among people’s lives.

“ Do you ever shut up. ”

His response to most of what the informant preached is hasty, almost like the way a dog bites when they’re cornered. Though he is far from backed into such a thing, he refuses to let him know that he actually listened to him and that, as comical as it is, had grown quiet when he’d said he was on the phone. Despite there having been a grunt or two of sheer annoyance, the mistake of that aspect was now being realized and the silence he had mustered was being taken back. He wouldn’t given in that easily, not when someone like this didn’t deserve it. 

Instead, he parts himself wider, bringing his legs from each other and his shoulders forward so in the case something happens, he’s braced. Though he’s tempted to cut to the chase, grab something nearby and chuck it right at that hideous lining of features, he grounds himself for now. Speak first and kill later, right? A cheap way to live and to go about yourself, but he figures that the more time he spares, the less others will think of him as a horrible, terrible person.

He doesn’t know, however, that isn’t the likely case.

okay! i will actually take the mun intro stuff seriously over here. i did one on shizuo last night, posted a rick roll, it was great and i had fun, but hello again! i am daryl! i am 22 years old, i live in texas (CST) where it is constantly raining now it seems and i am a very sleepy man. 

a little about me: i am a medical master. i know a shitton of medical things and have been helping people since i was a wee baby at eighteen. unfortunately, i am too poor to afford college at the moment so i am unable to get out on the field and actually work as my ambition, a paramedic. if you find you aren’t feeling well mentally and physically, or you just want to ask something about a health thing, you’re free to hmu. i’ll do what i can to help or comfort you in a time of need. as always, if you feel you are in a dire emergency, please do call 911 however because you know your body best!

i’ve been in citta before! multiple times, actually. once i started here as zack fair, got nervous and dropped out. later i came back as morty, matt and marth here and stuck for awhile. i’m hoping i can keep myself together this time around and continue to hang out here, but we will see. i have very sporadic motivation moments and they can grow to be soooo tiresome after awhile.