Title: Dead City Radio
Characters: Shizuo/Izaya ; mentions of Simon & Dennis
Rating: work safe
Summary: Takes place during Izaya & Shizuo's high school days. "They never could understand each other."

Titled after the Bill Burroughs spoken word album.


There is a hum to the city they both feel.

A vibration that runs all through their bodies winding in with their veins along with the blood and the oxygen which always leads them back to each other. They are entwined, yin and yang and salt and pepper and all these things that are completely different but also the same.

Maybe that's why they never could understand each other.

Like the street singers and leaflet distributors, they have become a part of the scenery in Ikebukuro. They are static, in many ways. Unmoving but shifting, changing, against their will. Uncontrollable.

Izaya loathes nothing more than that because that is ordinary, average. To be ordinary means nothing because ordinary is nothing. Ordinary is getting married and having kids and working in an office complex until suddenly you're old and the only thing left to do is die. Being the same person as everyone else. Being indescribable, unmemorable. Ordinary is to be a parasite; to take and take until you could not take anymore. Ordinary is resigning yourself to a nothingness-death, to unending blackness. Ordinary is to sleep during your life and to sleep during your death.

Yet that is where he is stuck, currently. Ordinary. Confined by the walls of his life, created for him not by him. Family, classes. And it makes him feel claustrophobic but there's nothing he could do about it at the moment, being trapped between the layers of school and life and adolescence.

And loathe as he is to admit it, the fights with Shizuo were almost freeing. It wasn't that the fights made him feel better, or made him reevaluate his life, but it simply made him forget. Fighting someone like Shizuo requires all available concentration, should one not desire to be decapitated. In many ways that was a good thing, not many people could make him breathe so hard his lungs would sting, or wipe blood from his mouth, nose, arm and keep running.

Like playing war.

Shizuo was unpredictable and strong, which made Izaya both miffed and bit jealous. To so effortlessly be what he wanted, unique, and to hate it could not be forgiven. Not by him, anyway.

="=

They have lived in this place for so long they no longer can tell if there even is life existing outside of it.

If there was it didn't know what it was missing.

And what they are doing now is what they are always doing: fighting.

Shizuo, with a lamppost in hand, chasing Izaya into an alley.

Izaya is legs and arms, rapid movement, scaling a wall at the end of the alley because like hell is he dying here. Killed by this idiot animal.

And, for his part, Shizuo is right behind him, throwing the lamppost, javelin style, missing Izaya by only an inch or two, but still making him fall. Mission complete. The wall that was hit starts to crack and shutter but neither of them notice. They have other things to think about, like how nice this city could be if the other one wasn't there anymore.

As the bricks finally give way, Izaya has his flick blade firmly imbedded in Shizuo's arm, and Shizuo's knee to his stomach and they both would have died had it not been for Simon.

As usual.

And, like most other days, Simon looks vaguely annoyed, holding them both by their collars like little kids as the wall collapses in an explosion of dust and noise.

"Fighting's not good. Eat sushi" Simon says, unfazed by everything and anything.

Then he yanks them very much against their will into Russian Sushi amidst the whispering gawkers and distant sirens.

At this point in their lives, it was not unusual for them to eat together in sullen silence after the fights Simon breaks up, under the constant vigilance of Dennis. And though Izaya would still sometimes try and goad Shizuo into a fight or an argument, a well aimed sushi knife usually resolved any and all issues between the two of them. In many ways it was like a safe zone, the only time and place they could sit around each other without straightforwardly attempting murder.

And it was there, quite suddenly, that they kissed for the first time.

Or at least it was sudden for Shizuo.

For Izaya, it was just another trick, to simultaneously piss off Shizuo while still keeping himself free from flying cutlery.

It was just a peck, simple and quick, but it did the trick.

Of course he wasn't expecting to be punched quite so hard but the look on Shizuo's face was completely worth it, he decided.

Immediately after the kiss a beat red and gaping blond boy stormed out of Russian Sushi and Izaya had a good time finishing his fatty tuna in solitude.

Dennis merely shook his head in exasperation and wondered what the hell was wrong with those boys.

="=

It was three weeks until Izaya saw Shizuo again.

He wasn't at school or on the streets, anywhere. Or at least anywhere Izaya would be, since it certainly wasn't like he was looking. Not at all. Though he did wander every nook and cranny of Ikebukuro he simply told himself it was because he was bored. With no fights or injuries to take care of he did have a lot of free time and it wasn't like he'd actually do homework.

During that time, he had played with the idea that Shizuo was so mortified that he'd switched schools or moved somewhere or, better yet, killed himself. Though he knew none of that was actually true, a boy can still dream.

When Shizuo did finally show his face in school, he seemed distracted and more violent than usual which in turn made Izaya distracted and more violent than usual, and when they fought it was nothing short of explosive.

And the storm of fighting, even during classes, continues like this for some time until one day it's raining and they're on some rooftop and all of a sudden Shizuo is kissing Izaya instead of hitting him.

They're all wet and everything is slippery and it's like some tacky romance novel moment, which leads Izaya to say as much as soon as he can breathe because his lungs are being crushed between Shizuo and the door to the stairwell, and not for any other reason.

Certainly not because he is blushing and confused and verging on being at a loss for words for possibly the first time in his entire life.

Neither of them really understands what's going on, and before Izaya's brain catches up, his hands find themselves fisted in Shizuo's shirt. Holding tight, not letting go, safe and at home there. Like they'd be been there before, like this was normal, like anything about them was normal.

There is a pink tinge to both of their faces and their breaths make little white clouds form and dissipate and they just stare at each other. Not saying anything or moving. Not letting go, or holding tighter, though they want to do both and neither and everything at the same time.

Shizuo looks a bit sheepish and seems to be waiting for Izaya to push him off or knee him in the groin or something.

Anything.

But Izaya can't decide what to do. There is what he wants to do and what he should do and what he tells himself he doesn't want to do but knows he actually does. And in the end he gives in, just this one time, he tells himself, and kisses Shizuo back, full force, and wraps his arms around his neck.

And they are pushing back and forth and their kisses are like their fighting, violent and angry and needy and painful but they don't stop because they don't want to stop.

Not right now. Not for a long time.

Because "just this once" usually leads to "just this thirty-fifth time" and all of a sudden it's become one of those things that is hard to talk about with anyone and ever harder to understand, themselves.

And even though it's completely wrong, the two of them doing something besides fighting, at least to them, they ignore it.

They pretend like it never happened after it leaves them panting and cold and entirely too close. Like real lovers.

Like people who actually like each other.


I'm thinking about maybe doing a second part if people like this one.

The part about the wall: get it, geeeet it? It's a metaphor~~ /shot/

...Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

If you see any typeos or whathaveyou feel free to point them out...

Regular comments are loved too, of course~