Gentlemanly Psycho (Izaya Orihara x OC)

Chapter 8 - Out of Character

CHAPTER 8

They landed on the concrete floor with a loud thud. Normally, both would've flown from each other but because Izaya clung so tightly to his 'prize', it would take a lot more than actual death to remove his hold. The tinier body trapped in his embrace struggled to break free - twisting and kicking. Izaya's grip didn't loosen even the tiniest bit. 

"We could just stay like this the whole day," he says, "or we could just sit down and talk?" His voice came out in gasps, followed by pained grunts as a reaction to all the physical abuse he's being subjected to.

For some profound reason, what unnerved him the most was that she wasn't talking. He could only see her hair all over the place. He wanted to make her face him, but that would be too risky. The interesting expressions can come later, right now it's game time. 

Suddenly, an elbow struck his ribcage, with the familiar superhuman force that sends him flying to the wall. His body pounds the ruthlessly hard concrete, consequently shattering something vital. He saw his entire life flash right in front of his eyes. These moments became barraged of 'somehow'-driven scenarios. 

Somehow, he drew the strength to keep his attentions on a sole figure amidst the blur. Somehow he retained the strength to speak.

"Don't g-!" 

He coughs out blood, the thick liquid blotting his shirt. Somehow, he raised a bloody hand to his face. For a moment, it occurred to him that the strength in that hit was superb. The next moment, holy sh- he really was dying.

Even when he knows it's futile, he stretches out his hand, fingers extended fully in stale air.

~

"Hey...you're there, aren't you?" I whispered, doing my utmost keeping my numbing limb in front of me.

If she could just touch just one of them...just one finger...I would...ah I don't know...I can't move, and if could, I would...ah I don't know....I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE. She's there, I know she is. And she sees me here, doesn't she? So...why? I don't understand....

...huh, I don't understand, I don't know. Just what is happening to me? I am not myself right now, lost of reason and imagination. This is not the great Izaya Orihara, this is a pathetic weakling. But then...why? Why can't I just set this aside? Why can't I just be the way I was? Why am I going crazy? Why am I asking 'WHY'?

A few moments of stillness eventually calmed me down. I found some relief confirming that my wounds won't kill me anytime soon (still hurts like a bastard). Then, my attention shifted to my position. I can still feel my hands floating, but I can't seem to move them anymore. I could feel the steady stream of blood out my mouth, and I can tell it doesn't do me well. My ribs are indeed crushed, and that wasn't an exaggeration.

I wanted to laugh, but then a warm foreign temperature choked the air out of me. It was light touch on my hand, which I realized was still hovering, and then a tight squeeze around my trembling fingers.

My eyes blink, clearing my vision. Soon, I was opposite with a face. The night pretty much cloaked the scene in darkness. But I could still see (imagine) her in full-glory; it was almost as if she was shining. I see my dying-induced madness has taken over. Her face bears the deadpan expression I was very much used to, but the sparkles in her eyes tell me everything I need to know. I could almost imagine her voice-

You are an idiot.

I try to laugh. Her delicate grasp tightened, and I knew immediately she was making me shut up - in her own unique way. All I could do is smile, with the occasional gargles. And then I realized I could breathe again, and immediately knew she did something.