Touch and Go

The Fourth Visit

Shizuo and Izaya sit against the window in the Burger King, Shizuo sipping fervently on a Coke Zero with as many refills as he wants. Izaya slowly cuts through his muffin. "So what happened to you?" he asks between sips, getting more irate by the second. He scratches his arms, desperate for a smoke. These places always make him nervous, as if he's breathing in calories. 

Izaya watches him and finds it cute, in a sad way. Jumpy people are always adorable, but not when it's destroying them to be so. He wonders what Shizuo would be like without his nervosa. 

Izaya smirks, he has the upper hand. Shizuo asks him a question - it must be dying him to not know why this young, otherwise healthy person is in this wheelchair. "You know how dangerous this city can be," Izaya sighs happily. The plastic knife sinks into a blueberry, oozing dark red insides. They shimmer under fluorescent lights. "A random stabbing by a mystery man," 

Shizuo doesn't believe that for a second. But given Izaya's personality, he can absolutely believe it. "This mystery man, did he listen to you introduce yourself? If so, I can accept that answer," 

"Do I annoy you that much?"  mocking pout. "I didn't know. My humble apologies," 

"Do you not have any questions about me?" 

"I prefer to figure out things for myself, Shizu~Chan," he reaches over and steals his Coke, gulping it down until it's just occasionally bubbles climbing the straw. "I was thirsty, I didn't get to finish my coffee," he explains. 

"That was your choice! Oh never mind," Shixuo stands up quickly, brashly shoving back his seat so it creaks. Everyone looks over. He goes over for a refill and comes back. "If you're so good at figuring stuff out, what do you know about me?" 

"More than I did in Middle School," 

Middle school, Shizuo remembers. He remembers how crappy and boring his hair was and how that uniform made him look like a bland middle-aged realtor. Izaya looked a lot better, older and dangerous in his rebellious phase. Own clothes, not even the school uniform. His eyes return to Izaya's face, he hasn't aged much. A little around the eyes and jawline, but other than that, Izaya is still just as striking. 

He's changed so much Izaya didn't even remember him. 

The he notices something outside. Standing tall, flashes of yellow dotted in a formation around the streets. They've seen him, and they've cornered him. Izaya sees where he's looking and turns around. "The Yellow Scarves," he chuckles. "How interesting. Did you collect money from one of the wrong people?" 

"What?!" Shizuo growls. It pisses him off that Izaya knows his occupation. He cracks his knuckles. "You stay here, I'm going to deal with these bastards," gotta take his hatred for Izaya out on something. 

"Wait, you can't leave me-" 

Shizuo slams the glass door closed. It rattles but the glass doesn't shatter. He stands in the centre of the street, staring straight ahead. He hates violence, he isn't gonna initiate a fight. But the second someone goes for him, they'd better say their prayers. 

The leader's eyes narrows. A kid that pisses him off with those piercings and the yellow bandana concealing parts of his neck tattoo. A swastika stencilled crudely into the side of his shaved head. You know what? There's no point in Shizuo trying to control his anger anymore. It takes him over, he can't stop it. He reaches out, gripping a lamppost so hard it crinkles in his hand. Fuck being civil. 

He doesn't bother to try and hold back - cause who gives a damn, right? Shizuo wrenches it from the ground and hurls the beam horizontally against the gang members before him, crashing through their stomachs. Internal bleeding at the very least. 

* 

Izaya whines lowly, placing knife down on the table. Shizuo shouldn't be having all the fun. He wants to be part of the action too. So he pulls the folded wheelchair towards himself, popping it open. Pulling up the armrest, he lifts himself up with his relatively long arms and shifts his butt to the seat of the wheelchair. He rolls towards the heavy doors which thankfully are automatic for everyone but Shizuo. 

On the pavement, he's trapped. Blocking him is a small coagulation of Yellow Scarves members standing with their backs to him. Most of whom he recognises. Not for good reasons. His head is about level with their lower backs, he can't see over their shoulders. Smirking, he knows how he can help Shizuo. Maybe impress him just a little, too. He pulls his trusty knife from his belt. There's no hesitation. He slashes through their backs deep as the blade will go. The knife isn't strong enough to penetrate the sines, but it severs a lot of nerves. In a symphony of screams the members fall to the ground. 

Time freezes at this intersection. Shizuo, covered in blood, trembles with fear. He witnesses the members crowd around Izaya, surrounding him on all sides. This fear is such a foreign feeling - protective instincts not for himself but for Izaya. 

The information broker frowns. He never wanted Shizuo to find out this way. Not only to save his feelings. He has the feeling if Shizuo knew the whole truth, he'd murder everybody here. 

"You know not to let us see you in Ikebukoro," Crack. The members' knuckles. They come in close, standing right above him. Blocking out the sun. A blinding light and shadows; all he can see. "Ya know we still owe ya for that money you stole from us," 

"I borrowed it," Izaya refutes. "And paid that debt in full. You've disabled me for life - can you not forgive a debt of 20,000 yen for that?" 

"Like Hell we will!" he advances, Izaya's blade drawn. He's ready to fight and willing to die if it comes to that. 

"You're tellin' me you're about to kill a guy over a small loan..." 

The ominous voice. The member freezes. His knife falls to the pavement, the fallen blade ding! reverberating off concrete. He's petrified, unable to turn and face the voice. 

"A guy you already fucked over for life..." 

The voice is drawing closer. 

"Even if he is an insufferable douchebag..." 

Izaya smiles. Well this is going better than he could have hoped. Shizuo Hewajima is willing to kill for him, subsequently to die for him. Within seconds, the gang member is lying in a heap of broken bones and bruises inside a fresh pothole made when his ass smashed into it so hard, his pelvis shattered like a mirror dropped downstairs. Shizuo turns to their horrified audience. 

"Anyone else wanna threaten Izaya?!" 

They scatter, leaving behind only dust. Izaya claps his appraisal. "Oooh, well done Shizu~Cha-" 

"You're pissin' me off, you know that?!" Shizuo demands, turning. He does look terrifying, a lot mores o than in middle school. The blood dripping down his face, hair sticking out wildly. Crazed eyes of passion. Izaya can tell this is no longer obligation for him. He's surrendered that control. His emotions drive him, nothing more. In another universe, they could be mortal enemies. 

"Why exactly?" Izaya knows exactly why. 

"You're a reckless bastard. Piece of shit, you coulda gotten yourself killed!" 

"I trusted you to protect me," 

"You-" he pauses. "You trusted me..." 

Nobody has ever done that apart from his brother - and that backfired. He only let him down and their relationship has been fracture ever since. Helpless to repair that brokenness. What can he do but reject Izaya''s trust? 

"I'm sorry, but-" 

Sirens in the distance, their wails of annoyance growing closer. Shizuo remembers the dead bodies on the street. Blood everywhere. On Izaya, on his knife. The blade he still holds. "Shit," is eye twitches. "Tch, we gotta get you out here. Would you be okay visiting my place?" 

"Certainly!" Izaya answers with gleeful enthusiasm. Such an idea attracts him more than it should, he can't wait to see him! It'll be like a sleepover, one of those very human events. 

"Great, then let's get going!" Shizuo grabs the handles of the wheelchair and runs him through the streets faster than any car. He doesn't care, but won't be able to see Shizuo's place today if he gets arrested. So he hides his knife and covers the blood undeath his coat. Smiling the whole ride there.