This is like, what, my 8th fic in 24 hours? I'm on a roll~!

WARNING: Implied Shizaya smex.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own durarara or any of it's character!

"Why won't you let me hold you?"

"I just simply don't want to be held, Shizu-Chan."

They had had another passionate night, yet always the brunette pushed the blond away afterward. He wanted to know why he was never wanted.

"Is it because I'm really that horrible, that disgusting, that you don't even want to be in my embrace?" That had to be the answer, right? After all, that's what he was. Violence personified, a monstrosity that no one could ever love.

"N-No! That's not it, you protozoan. It's just..." He never finished, he couldn't. The crimson eyed man's face was downcast, as if he couldn't bare to look at the other man, as if...

"You're afraid."

The brunette looked up a little too quickly, nearly giving himself whiplash. "What do you mean, Shizu-Chan? I'm the Great Izaya Orihara! I'm not afraid of a simpleton like you~!"

The words were ment to be teasing, but, for once, the informant's little facade crumbled, crushed from it's own brilliance. It seemed as though he knew it too.

"Izaya, please tell me the truth."

Said man looked up with a glare, words as harsh and cold as his heart was rumored to be. "Oh, of course, Shizuo, I'll tell you every bit of the truth! That's my job, isn't it? I'll tell you what it feels like to be hated by everyone. At least you have friends and your precious little brother! I don't have anyone other than "pawns" or "acquaintances"! Hell, my own sisters even admitted they would push me in front of a bus if they could see their idol; your brother!" He had tried to keep a strong front, but tears were starting to leak through his eyes. "And these little night with you is the only time I can vent a little, but it's not love. It's merely psychical lust. That's ok with me though, because I don't want to love nor do I want to be loved! I-I don't want to be human!" He was sobbing now, the pain evident in his voice.

"Well, then I'm sorry, Izaya, because..." Shizuo placed a hand on the younger man's chest, feeling his heartbeat just beneath his finger tips.

"...You already are."


Philophobia: the fear to love or be loved.