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candlespetalsandstarrynights · 7 years

Text

Red To Show My Hatred

At some point - perhaps just as the routine war between the day and night was starting and the sun was gaining the upper hand and the sky itself was betraying the moon and starting to glow in incandescent blues - he had given in to the temptations of sleep and let his eyes slip shut. Even though it was in his best interest to stay awake. Even though there was a very real possibility that at least a dozen people had reason to be interested in his demise and would therefore take advantage of his present wounded condition and try to kill him as he lied defenseless in an uncomfortable hospital bed. When he was still awake, he obsessively imagined the white sheets around him stained to scarlet red with his own blood. And just as he had imagined, someone did come to take his life, but it was not who he wished for. If he were to die he wanted it to be someone he knew well. Someone he knew truly hated him. Someone who's life he fucked with enough to truly deserve death. He wanted to see the anger in their eyes when they came for him, and the smoldering satisfaction when he drew his last breath just for them. He could almost feel Shizu-chan's strong hands wrapped around his neck... That was the last thought he dreamed before being seduced by the foggy tendrils of sleep. His sleep was heavy and dreamless. ..... Shizuo saw it on the news. He nearly did a spit-take with his mouth full of milk. The flea had been stabbed. In public while walking downtown. By someone who wasn't him. Shizuo wondered incredulously how anyone could even get close enough to Izaya to stab him and figured that he must have left his guard down, no doubt high after pulling the strings for some nefarious plot. Shizuo wasn't sure of what to do. He ran a hand through his messy blonde strands and stared at the lumpy couch he was sitting on in his home. He had always thought if the flea wound up dead, he would be skipping through the streets singing Zippity Doo Dah off to shake hands with Izaya's killer. But he felt no joy in hearing this news. Perhaps it was because Izaya wasn't dead? Maybe it was because Shizuo wasn't the one who sank the blade into his side? Strangely, even imagining being the one to stab Izaya wasn't sitting well with Shizuo's stomach. It made his insides turn unnaturally and his heart feel heavier than usual. He groaned, throwing his head back and letting the misery of his realization flood over his entire being: He felt sorry for the fucker. ..... But that was the only emotion he felt and if you said otherwise he would bash your head in. Seriously. He pitied the flea and nothing more. Nothing. More. Got that? Shizuo had no doubt that not one soul had gone to visit Izaya in the hospital - not for good reasons, at least - not even his sisters. So, he buried his fists deep into his pockets and scowled the entire way as he stomped over to the hospital to see the guy. He entered through the front doors and walked up to the reception desk which lied ahead of a sea of waiting chairs which were surprisingly empty. The lady behind the counter was a cheery looking young woman perfect for the job of welcoming and directing who no doubt had excellent people skills and flourished in a crisis. "I'm here to see Izaya Orihara." "Of course." She gave a pleasant smile and tapped away upon her keyboard. "He's in room 103 just down the hall there, but I'm afraid he's asleep right now. Would you like me to call you when he wakes up-" "No that's fine! Perfect actually. Thank you very much, Miss." His heart began jumping erratically. This was stupid. He knew that. It was wrong, as well, and yet he still found himself wanting to see the other. No, he felt sorry. That was all. Shizuo was a pretty caring guy once you got past the frequent violence and short temper and so even he could sometimes feel compassion for his mortal enemy. Even in his mind he knew his excuses were bullshit. Down the hall, he passed the hospital's gift shop. Stuffed bears and balloons and cards littered the window, but what caught his eye were the lush red roses. The buds had hardly began to bloom but the color was so striking that he faltered in his march to Izaya's room. It was a bouquet of twelve roses woven in sparsely with baby's breath. He mulled it over in his mind. And then cursed himself as he gave the cashier his money and walked away with the flowers. He stared at them as he walked. He wondered exactly why he bought them. It was an impulse. Some crazy impulse which came from god knows where and dug itself into his brain. He didn't even like the damn guy - really! - and here he was buying roses for him. Beautiful roses, actually. A growl sounded in the back of his throat once he realized how romantic the gift was. He was clenching his teeth and practically seething with rage when he realized that somehow he found them fitting. He actually wanted to leave the bastard a bouquet of roses. It was sweet. Shizuo thought so, but he was pissed as fuck to be wanting to give them to Izaya of all people. But if he let go of his anger, he thought it was perfect. It was anonymous. He could be as reckless with his feelings as he wanted because Izaya was asleep and would have no idea whatsoever that his secret admirer was Shizuo. He was safe. He found the room only seconds after he purchased the flowers. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to think over the sound of his heart hammering in his chest, tried to get angry so that this would be easier. Maybe he could get angry enough to just dump the roses somewhere or give them to someone in the hospital who really needed them. He was having second thoughts, as most people do when they're about to do something they've been wanting to for a very long time but were too afraid. Still, he was a brave man above all else. He stepped into the room. And immediately thanked God that Izaya was asleep. He hurried over to the table beside the bed and set the bouquet down gently so as not to crush the delicate petals. He willed himself to leave the flowers and go, but his body wouldn't listen. He stole a glance beside him at his sleeping enemy. He expected to be filled with bloodlust. The opportunity to kill Izaya was merely a few feet away. He knew this, but he was surprised to find no desire within himself to kill the man lying in the bed. Perhaps it was because of how peaceful Izaya looked as he slept. How human he seemed. And then, Shizuo realized it. Izaya was nothing more than one of the humans he cherished so dearly. As he slept, all his evil disappeared, dissolving into the air around him and breaking down until it was merely atoms floating around in a vast space between them. His looked so.. peaceful. The concept was enough to blow Shizuo's mind completely. Izaya's skin was pale like cream, the cheeks dusted ever so slightly with rosey pink it would be lost if he hadn't been studying him so closely. His face held a gentle curve and his lips were curved and parted ever so slightly. His black locks were feathery and dusted haphazardly across his forehead and around his tilted face and haloing his head. As Shizuo watched him, he found it impossible to summon the hatred and rage he felt when this sleeping beauty was awake. Izaya was just a person. A deceitful, cold, manipulative person. An injured, hated, and excruciatingly lonely person. His family couldn't be bothered to visit him. His assistant was hoping he bled to death. His best friend thought he had gotten what he deserved. Shizuo was the only one in this vast world of humans which Izaya loved so dearly that actually came to see him. The one human he despised was the one who felt sorry for him. Poor guy. Really. Shizuo really meant it. He was glad he came. He was glad he left behind red roses. He was glad he left before Izaya knew they came from him. His pride is still stronger than his pity. ..... When Izaya awoke, there was a large and lush bouquet of scarlet roses just beginning to bloom in a crystal vase. His eyes were blurry and confused. He had expected to see red, but he figured the source of such a color would be coming from his own veins and not held within such a lovely display of flowers. A nurse walked in only seconds after he opened his eyes, smile warm and welcoming. "I see you're finally up." Izaya did not remove his eyes from what stood beside his bed. "Why are there roses here?" His voice was faint and groggy. "A visitor brought them." "Really?" Surprise was prominent in his voice and he propped himself up on his elbows. A surge of interest ignited itself within him. Which one of his darling humans would pay him a visit and leave him such lovely roses? His lips curled up in a smile. "Did they leave a name?" "I'm afraid not." "A secret admirer, then, even more interesting." He admired the roses with satisfaction. Humans could be so wondrously unpredictable at times. That's what kept them so intriguing. Why he loved them so very much. And evidently they loved him back. Or, at least one did. His lips were curled upwards as he imagined who would send something so romantic to him. Could it be that Namie had been pining for him all this time? Or maybe Shinra felt it fitting to send some love to his old friend. Izaya caressed a bud as he mulled over all the possibilities. "He was blonde. Wearing glasses and dressed like a bartender if that helps, hun." His hand froze, thumb pressed up against a silky petal. His smile was wiped clean off his face. He stared in shocked horror at the red before him. Izaya's mind wasn't working. It took him a full thirty two seconds to process it. Shizuo gave him red roses. "...What the hell is that monster thinking?" He withdrew his hand but couldn't help staring at the roses and white baby's breath. Maybe. Just maybe. There was something human in Shizuo after all. Izaya's lips curled back up again. "Impressive, Shizu-chan, you've managed to surprise me." ..... The dying sun set the room aflame with its golden light. Shizuo was frying an egg at his stove for dinner. Eggs were one of the very few things he knew how to cook. So, he cooked them a lot. Right as he was about to serve his dinner - to himself - there was a sharp ring at the front door. His face darkened in confusion at having heard his doorbell ring. He didn't get visitors. Literally never has anyone set foot into his apartment. Ever. He wasn't even aware that people knew where he lived, actually. Nonetheless, he stood up from his table for one and walked the short distance to the front door. When he swung the door open, not a soul was in sight. But placed at the foot of his door was a single red rose, bud not yet fully bloomed but petals were starting to peel away from the mass to shine with their own beauty. Beneath the rose was a white card adorned in black scrawl reading: "Thanks for the roses, Shizu-chan." He crushed the card in his fist, every gear in his mind grinding against another as he roared with all of his might: "IZAYA!"

#Shizuo would never buy Izaya flowers #I couldn't not make it end it yelling like I tried #shizaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #durarara x2 #my words #fanfic

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