There's No Beauty In Death.

Chapter One.

    Izaya is smaller than what Shizuo had previously thought him to be.

    He’s smaller, and sharper. All jagged edges both on the inside and out.

    His skin is fair- porcelain without any cracks, without any proof of age. His hair is dark, raven black, silky, and messy. It suits him, though. Suits his looks- suits his personality.

    Messy. Ruthless. Spontaneous.

    Izaya is smaller than what Shizuo had previously thought him to be.

    Izaya is also much more quiet now- this was different- Shizuo didn’t like it.

    He didn’t like it because this isn’t Izaya.

    He didn’t like it because- why isn’t he opening his eyes? Why didn’t he dodge? Why is there so much blood?

    Burgundy- sickly sweet, acrid and metallic- splattered in nasty blotches across the pavement. Some of it was smeared, due to the physical force that had dragged Izaya across the concrete. Some of it still sloshed onto the ground from where it left the large tear in Izaya's abdomen.

    Shizuo kept his eyes focused on Izaya's face; witnessing the other man's literal internal organs spilling out wasn’t a thing he necessarily wanted to do.

    But, then again, sitting here and cradling the Flea’s lifeless body wasn’t what he wanted to be doing, either.

    Everything had happened so quickly- in reality it had been a pretty normal day. Shizuo was going about his work day, as usual, Izaya had shown up, as usual, Shizuo had shouted his name, as usual.

    Izaya hadn’t acknowledged him- unusual.

    Shizuo had thrown a sign, the jagged pole of it striking towards Izaya like a spear.

    Izaya hadn’t dodged.

    Izaya had turned at the last moment, a glint in his ruby red eyes.

    A smile upon his face.

    Not one of his usual mischievous smirks- no. A legitimate smile.

    Shizuo wasn’t able to figure out what the expression meant; he was too focused on watching with wide eyes as the pole struck Izaya's form, sending him sprawling across the pavement as blood splattered in bright red crimson around him. The pole clattered away once it had torn through the informants side, falling heavily onto the sidewalk with a ‘clang!’.

    For a moment, the crimson reminded Shizuo of Izaya's eyes, and he thought he was still staring into them. Well, that was until a shrill scream ripped him from that illusion, and he looked around to watch as individuals scattered away, running for their own safety.

    Running away from him.

    A monster.

    It was funny, for a moment, that none of them had even acknowledged the mutilated informant, laying in a limp heap on the ground. After all- who was a stranger to them? No, not even a stranger… Who was this bastard informant to them? No one.

    Shizuo’s first reaction was, of course, rage. Seething, blinding. Despite the blood, creating a crime scene upon the ground, Shizuo instantly assumed Izaya to be fucking with him.

    He had to be.

    He couldn’t just…

    Flea’s don’t die that easily…

    ...Right?

    Shizuo wanted to call out his name- wanted to sneer out a snarky remark. But, his voice was stuck in his throat, and he had to swallow past a lump as he took a hesitant step forward.

    Somehow, that ended up as how he was now- cradling a dead Flea in his arms as his mind tried to catch up with what the actual hell had just happened.

    Izaya's eyes were closed, and his complexion was quickly fading into a sickly grey. He was no longer porcelain- no longer that malicious Flea who was always up to no good.

    Shizuo's eyes stung as he stared down at that face, but tears refused to fall.

    Izaya was still beautiful, even in death.

    To any oblivious onlookers, this was probably an morbidly romantic scene. A man mourning over the loss of his partner- the loss of a love so dynamic that only they could understand it.

    But, to any regular citizens of Ikebukuro, they would know the truth. The horrid, nightmarish truth of what had actually just happened between these two enemies.

    The dog had finally captured the cat between his jowls.

    The dog hadn’t expected this outcome- Hadn’t wanted this outcome.

    Their chases, their fights and constant teasing had become nothing more than that, recently. It was all fun and games, somewhat of a stress reliever for them both.

    Sure, there was always some type of malicious intent, or anger behind said actions, but both of them had stopped acting upon their death threats long ago.

    Long ago, when the anger, and rage, and hate had turned into something else- something more.

    Shizuo’s hand was trembling as he reached up to touch Izaya's cheek. The informant was icy, his body starting to stiffen as rigor mortis set in. He looked… Well, dead. There was no lively teasing, no brilliant red eyes or cute little smirk.

    There was just grey skin, sunken in eyes, and small trails of blood trickling from his nose and lips.

    Shizuo couldn’t cry. He couldn’t sob, or scream, or hit something.

    He could only stare.

    Stare at the missed opportunities, the unsaid words and hidden actions.

    He could only stare at the man who had kept him going for ages- kept him fighting, kept him alive.

    There was a hole where Shizuo's heart once sat, a harrowing emptiness that consumed his entire being until he felt like he would collapse into nothing but dust.

    There would be no more chases.

    No more ‘Shizu-chan’s’, and no more passionate sparks between them.

    There would be no more Izaya, because Izaya was dead, and Shizuo was a monster.