094. Dirty

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You can get anything your heart could desire in Ikebukuro.

As long as you know where to look.

Crossing underneath the power-lines, Shizuo comes across the unmarked, neon-lit shops, aglow in blue and magenta and a rich purple. He heads for the alleyway and a side-entrance. The bouncer guarding the entrance from the inside, about sixty or seventy pounds heavier, greets him with a wordless, gruff nod.

About two flights up, a couple of young men and boys walk from door-to-door in the hallway.

Some of them laugh and joke with each other; some look over Shizuo with hungry, sultry eyes; others are too busy wiping the gleam of tears from their bloody and bruise-swollen cheeks. Some of them wear nothing else but yellow panties, barely holding their junk in, and one or two have on loose-fitting, white shirts and plain, dark jeans. Probably the ones who behave far more than the others.

Kida is one of them supposedly, fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, motioning Shizuo impatiently into his room. He places a hand on a hip, grinning broadly.

"You got what I want, big boy?"

Shizuo's annoyance rears up.

"Tt—"

He tosses the brown-paper lunchbag in the air, as Kida eagerly catches it with both hands.

"Stop being an idiot."

It took him all morning to get it, but Shizuo thinks it's worth the pure joy flickering over Kida's face.

"Oh my god, yes!" Kida hollers, opening the plastic lid to the blueberry layered tart. He plops down to the edge of the twin, steel-frame bed, digging his plastic fork from the bag into it.

"I don't care what anyone says… you are the sweetest person in this city, Shizuo."

At the disgruntled noise, he chuckles and grins again, waving his fork. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You're the coolest. Everybody knows that."

Everybody.

Shizuo folds his arms to his chest. "Because I can throw a vending machine?" he grumbles.

"No—well, yeah—but, no," Kida says, frowning contemplatively. He tries again, setting aside his dessert. "You don't take shit. That's—that's cool."

It sounds almost wistful. Of course Kida would think that.

He's trapped — like the stupid kid he is. After messing up a one-on-one deal, the Yellow Scarves put him to work at one of their houses, to earn his keep, to give them a reason to trust him.

Despite what he can do, all of the violence and unnatural strength, Shizuo can't get him out of this — not this time. And it kills him, thinking about the creeps scratching Kida's arms and his back, biting his neck and shoulders and ass, forcing their dicks in Kida's mouth only to fuck him raw.

He's only know Kida for about four months, ever since the incident in the subway station.

A middle-school girl tried to commit suicide on the the set of high speed tracks. Shizuo rescued her within seconds of being pulverized, yelling at her at the top of his lungs until Kida took over, consoling her heartbreaking, whimpering sobs and glaring at Shizuo. No one has ever been less scared of him.

That intrigued Shizuo, to the point of willingly accepting Kida's invitation to walk through the nearby park, relieved when Kida began smiling, removing his bright yellow, fabric scarf.

He may be a punkass kid, but Kida is good. Shizuo can feel it all the way in his gut.

Blueberry jam smears over Kida's upper lip. "You better go," he murmurs, seeming forlorn as Shizuo brushes off his knees, grunting aloud.

"… You take care of yourself, kid."

Or I'll drag your ass out of here myself, Shizuo promises, turning in the hallway.

One of Kida's clients mutter something in the doorway, pushing his face into Kida's throat to lick him slimy-wet, tonguing around his ear, grabbing the boy's asscheek with a huge, meaty hand. He uses his other hand to pull the elastic waistband of Kida's yellow panties, exposing them to Shizuo.

One… two…

Shizuo mentally counts his breaths, feeling that violence crackling beneath the surface of his skin.

Six… seven… eight…

Kida notices him watching, offering him a half-smil, mocking a finger-gun to his temple. Kida's thumb acts as the gun's trigger, flattening down.

A low, heavy rumble, like the beginnings of laughter, escapes Shizuo's twitching mouth.

He'll do whatever he has to do.

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Durarara! isn't mine. IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME FOR THIS FANDOM TOO. I haven't seen anything past S1 but I hope you guys enjoy! Thoughts/comments appreciated!