A/N: Okay, seriously, I need to stop this. Started this a while ago and just finished... not sure how I feel about a good amount of these sentences, but hopefully they're liked.
Don't own Durarara.
no one knows where the ladder goes, you're not alone in
anything ; you're not alone in trying to be
When Shizuo needs to cool his head (which is a lot of the time), he takes walks; not for the peace and quiet, since Ikebukuro is sorely lacking in that department - but because he can see that familiar, tranquil face looking out from every other billboard he passes by.
When he was younger, Shizuo used to feel jealousy at how easily Kasuka could waltz his way into people's hearts, while he was shied away and never had a chance to; and now, even though Kasuka pretty much has Japan on a string, he cannot sense any remnants of such a feeling.
Celty wants many things; she wants to find her head, she wants to continue living this normal, human life she's been living for the past two decades - and one of her wants she wishes for is that Shizuo could one day find an unbreakable peace she knows he deserves.
As annoying as Kishitani Shinra could be, Shizuo can still admit - and is almost somewhat grateful - that when he first witnesses him demonstrating his uncontrollable strength, there is a look of wonder and awe on his face, instead of the normal look of terror he's starting to get used to.
Instead of worrying about grades like the other students, Shizuo hopes he doesn't injure too many people - while other people are worrying about getting through the year unscathed, he prays he doesn't wreck most of Raijin's property like last year; and of course, while other students are looking for love, he only looks for a way to successfully end Orihara Izaya's existence.
He wonders what he would be doing if he wasn't cursed with this monstrous power; he could have been a business man, could have been a chef, could have been an idol like his brother - but there are too many coulds and even more nevers, and so he stops thinking about fanciful things that will never be.
whiskey & rum
The moment after the amber liquid splashes onto his crisp white shirt - purposely, he might add - he slowly removes his blue sunglasses (which then reveals the murderous look in his eye), and he knows the trembling man in front of him is definitely going to regret doing that, if he doesn't already.
The flea slices off his black bow tie with a cocky grin, and Shizuo roars in anger; if it wasn't a war before, it definitely is now, and he knows that no matter how long the battle wages, he's never going to wave the white flag.
Celty brings up how Shinra was talking about marriage the other night - and he feels a strange, warm feeling happily fluttering in his stomach when she takes her PDA back to retype something, and then it says: [If... if such a thing were to happen, would you give me away, Shizuo?]
Shinra somehow scientifically deducts that if Shizuo gets laid, he'll have far less anger problems - so when his birthday rolls around and the underground doctor hires a callgirl for him to have for the night, he's both in pain and black and blue and disappointed that his theory will forever stay a hypotheses.
If - and this is a huge if - Shizuo ever does find the girl of his dreams, he knows it would be a huge ordeal just trying to get approval from her parents; and so, he sighs and gets back into the mindset that he's pretty much screwed.
One day he runs into Kadota and his strange little gang, and Kadota is forced to put forth some extremely smooth talking when Erika starts babbling to Walker how she thinks she might have more of a preference for Izaya, and Shizuo nearly throws her into oncoming traffic.
Though hatred burns a trail through his veins at the very mention of Orihara Izaya, there's something else there - pity, because while Shizuo doesn't have many friends (he can't count them on one hand), Izaya has none.
The way his body moves when fighting is so easy and so natural that it comes as easy as taking in oxygen; and though no one really wants to stop breathing, this isn't the first time he's entertained the thought.
He's shattered and fractured and broken too many bones for the number to possibly be normal, and although he despises the looks of pity and curiosity that's always on all the nurses' faces, he supposes that he doesn't really blame them for being curious and appalled.
Not too long after what is discreetly labeled the Pudding Incident, the two brothers had accidentally gotten separated from their parents at an amusement park; so when a few older kids decide to pop Kasuka's balloon for shits and giggles - to put it simply, they were doing the former in their pants and certainly were not emitting any of the latter.
Honestly, Shinra can't remember exactly how many times he's brought up blood tests to Shizuo - he also can't exactly remember how many times Shizuo has threatened to throw him off the balcony afterwards.
Other than the number one problem Shizuo can think of ( that rhymes with pea and tea and starts with an f ), the second most troublesome issue is when he goes to his fridge to drink some milk - and discovers it's all expired.
Silence is golden, in Shizuo's book - but he's never seen gold rust and tarnish before until Orihara Izaya pops up in that eternally annoying way of his, with those acid coated words that make everything around him deteriorate.
Tom has known Shizuo and worked alongside him long enough to notice the tiny, tell-tale signs that he's about to hand someone their ass on a platter - and while any attempts to calm him after seeing said signs fail, he still considers this useful information, and a good explanation of how he's avoided having that happen to him.
"How are you doing, Shizuo?" Kadota asks him after they run into each other on the street; and there's many things that Shizuo could say - pissed off, lonely, depressed - none of which that match the answer of "Fine." that he gives him.
For being the fighter he is, he isn't truly sure if he's ever been in a full fledged quarrel - after all, nobody dares argue with him for fear of their lives, and Izaya doesn't argue, just belittles; sometimes he wonders what it would be like for someone to have the guts to actually do so.
In retrospect, Shizuo thinks he might as well save his money and lungs and stop smoking for all the times he's angrily crushed a nearly full cigarette before that constant companion of uncontrollable fury kicks in.
some are great, some are weak
i'm somewhere in between
He can grudgingly admit he picked up parkour skills from watching the flea, and he's mastered the art just as well as he has - but he likes to think (and is pretty confident) that he makes it look cooler than Izaya does.
Shizuo does not appreciate being made out as a idiot, as the flea often tries to do; it really isn't fair, either, since the informant is much more suited to the title of professional fool - in his own esteemed opinion, at least.
They don't live in medieval times or anything, but Shizuo and his eternal rival find themselves jousting quite often; except neither have a horse, he wields a crooked street sign instead of a lance, Izaya's little blade doesn't have near enough length to be considered one - and the crowd is usually running away instead of cheering in nonexistent stands.
Sometimes Shizuo's mind wanders back to that kind shopkeeper; he remembers her somewhat fondly, that she was some sort of gem surrounded by the rough of the city - and though he guiltily tries to quell the next thoughts that come after, it doesn't work; and maybe, he thinks, it's better that way.
Maybe he's not on the right side of the law, considering all the damage he causes - but even so, he's just in his own way; he keeps to his own rules, listens to his own brand of reason (which is what gets him in trouble in the first place), and to people that know him, they'd probably say that he is one of the most genuine people they know.
Perhaps the one thing that he and Izaya have in common are their trademark grins; however, there's still a difference between the blond's toothy, bloodthirsty smirk and the know-it-all one that Izaya wears.
He's no stranger to sadness; no, you might even be able to say they're good friends - but what separates him from everyone else is the way that you'd never be able to tell behind that indifferent, cool face of his that he so often wears.
Okay, so maybe he's never been the brightest bulb in the box, especially compared to someone like Shinra; but what he lacks in knowledge he can make up for in the bit of tact he has, Shizuo thinks as he watches Celty deliver another wince-inducing jab to the doctor's gut.
He really, really wishes that everyone would stop making jokes about his drunk performance at karaoke the other night; he's growing increasingly tired of it, and to be honest, he isn't exactly fond of the picture Erika has drawn of him singing to the flea (especially when the flea looks like a prince, and he's wearing a white and hot pink ensemble).
"Shizu-chan, I didn't know you cared so much!" Izaya laughs when Shizuo throws the first thing he can get his hands on at the annoying man - it just so happens that the first thing he grabs is a small flower stand that specializes in red roses.
Lunch between the two brothers suddenly becomes a sordid affair when paparazzi rush the table, clicking their cameras and babbling, and all Shizuo can see amidst the flashes is red - for two reasons - they're interrupting his sparse time with Kasuka, and he doesn't appreciate them asking if they are in a gay relationship in the least.
"Woe is me! - why am I faced with such a task of dealing with an uncivilized idiot all the time?" Izaya proclaims in a rather Shakespearean manner to himself, and Shizuo ever so kindly interrupts his brilliant soliloquy with a punch to the face.
He's played around with the idea of moving somewhere, somewhere far where he won't be bothered; but he knows that would only end up being temporary, because he thinks Ikebukuro might be the only place where he's somewhat accepted - even if he's only accepted as some absurd legend, right next to the Black Rider.
Shizuo's eating lunch at the park, and in front of the bench is that pitiful looking dog he sees from time to time; he sighs and holds out a piece, and he finds the tiniest smile comes over his face when the canine does not retreat.
He's not quite sure when he feels lonelier, but he thinks it might be the daytime - because being surrounded by hundreds of people and still feeling utterly alone manages to make him feel even worse than coming home to an empty apartment.
As he rips a vending machine from its stationary position and launches it at Izaya, he has enough sense through that fury-filled, red haze to know that every fight, every encounter of theirs is a road can lead only to nowhere.
Shizuo knows how important work is to his brother, that he loves his job regardless of the time he has to invest into it; and though he would rather die before he took that away from him, his heart still clenches when he thinks of the calm, blank canvas of a face that he never gets to see anymore.
The switch in his moods can be almost imperceptible at times; it might be the twitch of a brow, fingers trembling on the filter of a cigarette, the muted sound of grinding teeth - but no matter how subtle these signs are, the following actions are anything but.
A word of caution to any tourists or newcomers to Ikebukuro; if you see an object flying in the air that simply should not be, or a person soaring in the sky with their clothes slipping off behind him - there is a 99.9% chance that Heiwajima Shizuo is in the vicinity.
It seems like Tom's suggestion of dying his hair blond doesn't lessen any fights in the least - but when he stares at the selection of dark brown box dyes in the store and touches a hand to his hair, he sighs, and just decides to get a bottle of milk and some pudding instead; either way, Izaya would still recognize him, and that is where half of his trouble stems from anyway.
"Broaden your horizens, or whatever they say," Shizuo smiles in a reassuring manner to his brother, who has not even uttered a word about what's on his mind; and again, wordlessly, Kasuka leaves - and again, Shizuo smiles when he hears the low, unemotional voice calling the talent scout back.
Shizuo is nothing, if not brave - however, this is arguably up for dispute, perhaps by himself; because even if he is undaunted and unafraid of everything, he's terribly scared inside at the same time.
He may not be the mostly saintly man in Ikebukuro, but he's still a notch above the rest; because when he spots trouble stirring up or something that rubs against his principles the wrong way - instead of being like all the other unseeing citizens of the city, he will do something about it.
Every once in a while, Izaya fails to dodge whatever projectile Shizuo deems good enough to throw at him - there's something about the image of the informant flying backwards and lying sprawled out on the pavement that gives him a total sense of satisfaction.
He cannot remember a time in which he has ever lost a fight; and although he's practically invincible, the fortissimo of Ikebukuro - still, he has lost so much, lost some things he thinks he's never had in the first place.
A/N: Hope this was enjoyed and not considered a waste of time... let me know what you thought? :)