leilaisdreaming

Izaya clamped his eyes shut in pain as he was repeatedly slammed against the cold, hard alley wall behind him. The scent of blood filled his nostrils, presumably his own blood, and he dug in his pockets in search of his beloved flick blade. His oppressor, none other than Shizu-chan himself, noticed his movements and slapped the blade away before Izaya had the chance to cut him. His blade clattering to the ground, Izaya's eyes flicker with fear as his only means of defense lay yards away from him but tries his best to maintain his cocky attitude. "Is that all you g-got, Shizu-chan?" The hold on his already ruined shirt tightened. He was slam

How It Ends The darkness felt like it was smothering him, crushing in on him from all sides. Izaya looked around, he hated not being able to see anything – he couldn't even see his hands when he held them up to his face. The darkness was complete and total and the silence was deafening. All he could hear was a ringing in his ears. Where am I? Where – why am I alone? It felt like he was back then, back there, back in that time where he was alone, where there was no one. No, no, no – I don't want to go back there! He extended his hands forwards, as if he wanted to grope himself towards something, anything, that he could use

The Story you Don't Know I didn't say it, I couldn't say it. Izaya leaned against the wall of the alley, sliding down it until he was sitting hunched up against it. The burning in his eyes was ignored and he balled his hands up into fists. He was frustrated and angry with himself, and that all too familiar ache in his chest refused to go away; living with it for years hadn't made it any easier, and it had just gotten harder to ignore over the years. Whoever said that time healed all wounds was full of bullshit. Izaya dearly wanted to punch them. He wished that he had Shizuo's strength so that it would hurt more when he did. Shizu-chan...

Old Calendars Outside of his living room window, Shizuo could see snow floating down and creating a little drift along the edges of the balcony. It had been colder outside than usual, and his coat was hanging in the hall drying out and leaving little puddles of water on the floor. He'd worry about cleaning it up later. The microwave beeped, announcing to the apartment that the mug of milk he'd stuck in there to heat up was done. Shizuo turned away from the window and the TV – playing a rerun of some show or another – was spilling more noise out into the otherwise silent apartment. He pulled out the mug, carefully, and set it on th