vatheon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Characters: Izaya and Shizuo
Location: Izaya's place
Time: Evening
Style: Prose
Status: Closed

Shizuo was no longer a bodyguard - no longer a man from Ikebukuro, displaced and deposited in Vatheon. As the week progressed, he left that identity behind, slipping deeper and deeper into the mindset of a hunter. Whereas before his ax and daggers were unhappy burdens that reminded him of the violence that he so despised, now he carried them with ease, viewing them as tools of a necessary lifestyle. He stalked the forest in search of game, and it was natural, the way he tracked and hunted. Eventually, he stopped questioning himself and embraced what he came to perceive as the necessities for living.

He spent most of the day in the forest, which he navigated with surprising ease. By the time evening fell and the sky darkened, he found his way out without any trouble. The hunt had been relatively fruitless, but he was still in good spirits. What he did not catch today, he would catch tomorrow. Some days were easier than others. Such was the life of a huntsman.

It happened on the walk home. One moment, Shizuo was thinking about dinner, and the next, he was instilled with a compulsion to head in a direction that did not lead to his home. It started as a very subtle change - making a turn instead of heading straight, ax slung over his shoulder, mind at ease. Eventually it blossomed into conviction - something dark that invaded both mind and action, making Shizuo check his clothing to ensure that he still had his daggers, causing him to tighten his grip on the ax and clench his teeth in grim determination.

He couldn't say whose words he was following, exactly, but they were there, in his mind: Kill Snow White and bring me back her heart as a token.

Much like Shizuo the bodyguard, Shizuo the huntsman had never killed a human being before. Though he felt resolved, as though this were a fate he could not escape, an unease clouded his judgement. He had to do this - and yet, each step in the direction toward the fairest in the land was heavy, weighed down by Shizuo's planned deed. His misgivings hardly mattered; despite them, Shizuo approached the doorstep of Snow White's resting place.

A short thrust of his ax, and the door was open. Shizuo didn't need to search the home - he was drawn to the room, which he entered quietly, setting his ax down against the wall. There lay Izaya, hair as black as ebony and skin as fair as snow, sleeping peacefully. Shizuo took out his best dagger and held it in his hand, advancing on Snow White's sleeping form. But when he held it up, poised above Izaya's chest, Shizuo stopped.

It wasn't right. Izaya should be awake for this - should know that his time had come, and that his heart would be taken and given away.

Then Shizuo the huntsman thought of the sleeping man in the tower, and how he had tried to awaken him.

Without hesitation, he sat on the bed and leaned forward, bringing his lips against Izaya's. Unlike the brief, chaste kiss he had given Guy days before, this kiss was confident - tender, but meaningful. It was a kiss that not only requested Snow White to awaken, but urged, You must wake up.

All the while, Shizuo held his dagger, ready to bring it upon Izaya when necessary. The huntsman could not allow Snow White the opportunity to run. Izaya was to awaken to meet his end - nothing more.

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The initial protest seemed so feeble, Izaya wincing away from his touch. It made Shizuo inexplicably sad. In a way, he felt like it would be easier if Snow White screamed or cried or even tried to tear him into pieces. But that - that wince and the way Izaya's hand found his made everything much more complicated. The creeping sense of regret was transforming into something heavier, deeper. Shizuo didn't want to do this. He didn't want to mar Snow White, did not want to be forced to carry the burden of his heart.

"Stop," he said weakly. He didn't want to kill Izaya, but he had to, and even if the protests made it all the more difficult, Shizuo still had to follow through. But then Izaya looked at him - really looked at him, and it was as though something inside of Shizuo shifted and broke. His eyes widened, just a little, and he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out. That look - it meant -

Izaya capitalized on his surprise, managed to get Shizuo on the bed, positioned halfway under him as he scrambled for whatever he hoped to find in the nightstand. A few brief beats passed and Shizuo allowed Izaya to maintain that position for a moment during which Shizuo made mental peace with what he was about to do.

Over and over again, he thought, Forgive me. Forgive me.

Shizuo may not have been in his right mind, but his body still had its inhuman strength, and Shizuo the huntsman knew how to use it - perhaps even better than Shizuo the bodyguard did. Shizuo shoved himself back up into a sitting position and grabbed Izaya, forcing him back against the pillows as he had previously lain. He held him down with precisely measured control uncharacteristic of his usual self. It didn't matter whether Izaya struggled or not, Shizuo remained firm, staring into his eyes briefly before using the dagger to cut through the thin cotton of his hoodie - a vertical slit from the top down to the bottom. He shoved the fabric to the sides, out of the way, and then he was looking down at Izaya's pale chest.

"I have to," he finally spoke, taking one last look at Izaya's face, though it was brief. He couldn't afford any more hesitation. Shizuo brought the blade down to the skin of his chest and slashed deeply.

Deeply, but not deep enough. He couldn't do it. He couldn't push the blade in deep enough to cut out his heart.

He failed.

It's possible that he may have tried again, maybe pushed deeper the second time around, or perhaps tried a different approach to killing Snow White, but Shizuo did not have that opportunity.

As he stared down at the cut he had made - the way the blood began to ooze out and spill, easing down the side of Izaya's body, a sense of familiarity crept upon Shizuo. It reminded him of something - of something from his past...

It hit him instantly - the memory of Izaya slashing his own chest during their very first fight, his own wound similar to the one he just gave Izaya. The memory of his own blood staining his shirt, of a blade in Izaya's hand. Reverse roles that had resulted in a pale scar that had almost completely faded by now.

With that memory, Shizuo pulled back, recoiling from what he had done. It was a moment of brilliant clarity that caused him to stand and back away, dropping the dagger - a dagger, a weapon, he had been holding a weapon, he had cut Izaya - eyes wide and confused - fearful.

To Izaya's complete horror, Shizuo overtook him with that extreme, inhuman power of his but it felt different. It felt controlled. He could feel the entire weight and immense strength behind those hands. He didn't even have to try to move to know that Shizuo had him pinned down in such a way that iron bars themselves wouldn't have been able to contain Izaya better. Izaya felt something that he had never once felt before: authentic fear that he was about to die.

It was only enhanced as his hoodie was sliced neatly apart and Izaya felt shameful for a moment as he was revealed to Shizuo in a more personal way than he had ever really wanted anyone to see him in. The context didn't matter. He was on his back and below a man with a knife and the intent to murder him. And his most vital spots were in perfect reach. He was absolutely victimized and Izaya almost wanted to cry.

But this is Orihara Izaya and despite his heavy sleep, he had to keep his sanity and wits about him or he very well could die. He stabilized himself and just as he parted his mouth to try and convince Shizuo not to do it- that dagger was brought down and Izaya could've sworn he saw every single individual second of his life pass before his eyes. That mind-numbing screech of pain ripped through him as the dagger ripped literally through him and he felt the ice cold sensation of being stabbed and for a moment- he was blinded by shock that Shizuo had done that. That that was his blood dripping down over his sides and pooling at the crevices of his body. Izaya wasn't a foreigner to being stabbed.

Just a few inches below where Shizuo had just sliced him, there was a faint, small scar from where he'd been stabbed in the stomach not long ago when he had briefly returned to Ikebukuro. But it hadn't hurt this bad.

This was all wrong. Everything that had just happened was completely wrong. The kiss. The reaction. The stabbing. Nothing was right and Izaya hated Vatheon with every fiber of his being for messing up what had eternally been theirs to begin with. That loathing, that hate. As Izaya watched Shizuo back away, the grandeur of what he had just done obviously taking a toll on him, Izaya found himself loathing the fact that he did not hate Shizuo in that moment.

Instead, his heart thrummed hard in his chest and he glared at Shizuo, sitting up now as he held his chest in a nearly identical way as to how Shizuo had held his own on that one day. He saw that humanity raw in Shizuo's eyes. That regret that was too genuine to be just because of the curse and Izaya could have puked- he really could have.

"Look at what you've done," he said, pulling his hand back and he looked down at it. It was entirely covered in bright, red blood. His blood.

He slid out of bed and instantly wobbled on his legs. They began to give out on him and as they did, he forced himself forward until he was right in front of Shizuo, grabbing tightly onto his shirt so that he couldn't fall down, even though his legs had given out already and he was all but hanging from Shizuo.

"You son of a bitch," he said but then he smiled easily, peering up at Shizuo as he got the feeling back into his legs. "You just can't stop, can you? Just when I think I've won, you come along and do something else. Something else that's so outrageously unpredictable that I can't help but...- it's funny. I don't really even hate you," he said.

And with those words, he stood firmly onto his feet and pushed back from Shizuo, pressing his palms into his bleeding chest. It wasn't a deep enough cut to critically injure him but it stung and it hurt like hell and this wasn't the wake up call that he had expected.

Shizuo's mind was sluggishly trying to wade through the thick, foggy events that had just transpired, but it was difficult. The curse was trying to pull him back into that mindset of the huntsman, back into needing Izaya's heart, Izaya's life in his hands. He couldn't give in. Shizuo tried to fight against it, and it was fucking painful. That had to be what going insane felt like - it was as though his grip on reality were loosening.

He forced himself to stare at Izaya's chest - at what he had done - because that was more real than anything else. It was red and powerful and it hurt, but it was what he had to bind him to his right mind. He watched Izaya's hand hold his chest, grow red with blood, and yes - he had done it. He had made Izaya bleed like that, had cut his chest, and look he did, his expression openly horrified, breaking.

Then Izaya was clinging to his shirt and Shizuo couldn't see what he had done anymore and for a terrible moment he thought he was going to fade, that he was going to disappear again, which meant he was going to do something horrible again, and he tried to cling back, was about to grab Izaya and hold him against him because he so desperately needed an anchor. But Izaya pulled back.

And now there was some blood on Shizuo clothes. Shizuo absently ran his fingers over the soon-to-be stains, wanting something tangible, something to keep him clear. He hardly heard Izaya's words, until that last statement - I don't really even hate you. Shizuo couldn't process what that meant, because he was slipping, but it felt really important. He wanted to hold on to it - to keep it.

"I-Izaya," he forced out, taking a step forward. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." It was easy to say it, vulnerable and torn between the person he was and the person the curse made him become. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just raw emotion - regret and despair and the keen sense that he, Shizuo, was truly a monster.

And that was it. Shizuo was gone again - back into the role of the huntsman, aware of his failure. Snow White would live, because he was a coward, because he had felt too deeply, had kissed the person he was supposed to kill. There were better men suited to this job. It was too late for him. He shook his head, and then walked over to where his ax rested against the wall.

Izaya would laugh and skip over this later. He would find ways to use it to his advantage and not let anyone know the true impact of this event. How much it stung deep down below his skin to have had everything just transcend as it had. To have Shizuo look at him with such a pathetic expression and to have him be kissed by that mouth that he was so used to seeing curled up in a feral, insane smile, hungry for Izaya's blood and the thrill of their fights. No, this moment would be isolated in the back of Izaya's memory alongside a few others that he never touched but always kept. That sticky blood ruining his sweater and the undeniable stench of his own rot. It was truly disgusting.

His eyes flashed dangerously to Shizuo when the blond began to speak, that expression of his burned through into Izaya's memory. If he wasn't so clouded from the coma, he would have been able to think quicker, respond faster. Even if he had just awoken from a regular sleep he would be quicker but all he could do was stare and hold onto his chest, hold onto the solidified fact that Shizuo would never be able to do more than just that. That there was something under all of this that Izaya sneered and turned from when confronted with in valuable, horrific moments like this.

"Shizuo," he responded firmly, but even as Shizuo apologized, Izaya observed his expression carefully and he could see that conflict. He understood what was happening and he watched, he waited. Shizuo was two people right now and it was difficult to decipher which one was which, but that despair and regret- that was obvious. That was an inner turmoil that Izaya was long familiar with by now. That desperation Shizuo had to be human. Izaya knew it much more intimately than any other single person and that was what put him ahead of everyone else. Not that Izaya could fight Shizuo and outrun him. No, it was that he understood what it was like to be such a monster. He understood that it was the weakest spot within Shizuo. No one else even had a clue.

But Izaya did.

He always had.

"Shizuo," he said, knowing that the blond was lost to the mentality of whoever the hell he was now due to the curse. Izaya had the common sense to know that it was pointless to talk to Shizuo like this. That it would change nothing. He dropped his hand and walked after Shizuo, grabbing onto his hand before it could reach that ax.

"If you want my heart," he said slowly, carefully, because watching Shizuo look so disgustingly dejected really dug at Izaya in a nasty way, "Then...come find me..." he trailed off, wondering what day it was. What time it was- how much longer the curse had. But then he nodded and said- "A week from now in the gardens. I'll have my heart there for you, okay? That way you won't have to kill me and you'll still have my heart," he said, his thumb pressed into Shizuo's palm.

A week from now, this curse would be over. But Izaya felt some unexplainable urge to try and do something to take that look off of Shizuo's face. That look of failure. It was...unpleasant.

"Or will it be too late?"

Logically, Snow White should have taken his opportunity and fled. Or, at the least, tried to do something about the wound. Which is why, upon hearing his name, Shizuo paused. Izaya did not sound upset, scared, or even angry, and it didn't make sense. Shizuo looked down as their hands met. Izaya's was red with still-fresh blood, and when their skin pressed together, Shizuo's hand became stained, too.

Snow White wanted to give up his heart, willingly. Shizuo stared into Izaya's eyes, searching for what he didn't understand, trying to see what he meant by his words. He couldn't fathom why someone he clearly tried to murder was being so kind, so comforting. But it helped. It eased some of that tight tension Shizuo felt, lifted some of that darkness that had descended on him the moment he realized he had to bring about his end.

Would it be too late? Did it matter if it was? All Shizuo knew was that he needed Izaya's heart. And if he could still get it - could somehow succeed - without having to kill Izaya, then everything would be okay.

"It won't be too late," he replied, and as he said it, he felt confident in that decision. A week wasn't very long, and the heart was worth waiting for. He would do it. He'd meet Izaya in the gardens. "I'll find you." He gave Izaya's hand a light squeeze, stare lingering on Izaya's face and then falling to the wound across his chest. One week. He'd wait patiently.

Shizuo let go of Izaya's hand, lifted his ax, and left without looking back.

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