"And I'm trying to! Do you really think I want to stick around here? Tch. Look at it," Izaya said and looked around the dingy place. It wasn't horrible, no, but compared to his penthouse it may as well have been a shit hole.
By the time Izaya could register the chair coming at him, it was too late to move even if he had been alive. Though alive, he could've taken it. He had taken worse from Shizuo than a chair. Regardless, the sensation of the object going right through him caused Izaya's eyes to widen and his hands to go to his torso. He couldn't even hear the television set breaking. Well, he did, but it was an incredibly delayed reaction, his head turning slowly to look at the damage.
"Dead..." Izaya echoed, quite literally, staring at the ruins of the television set. He touched his hand over where Shizuo had struck. He didn't have much sensation except for one: the dull throb right there. Izaya had a feeling that it wasn't the ghost of his heart beat either. He then recollected the dark abyss and, well, he hated to say it but...He would rather have Shizuo than that swallowing nothing.
But why. Why Shizuo? Why not his own home? Why not his sisters or Shinra even? It made no sense. No, actually, deep down Izaya knew it made perfect sense. They were like two gods, Shizuo and him, two counterbalancing kings of the city. One fell and now things were out of balance.
"I felt it," Izaya confirmed because after all, he remembered it more vividly. The death, the afterlife, the brief period of bordering between phasing out of existence. "There was so much darkness. It was so consuming...Aheh, I couldn't even remember my own name. There weren't any angels. There weren't even any demons," he said, sounding disappointed. Was this all the afterlife had to offer?
His shoulders slumped and he slid his hands into his pockets. Not that it even mattered but it was out of pure habit.
"So Shizu-chan," he said, oddly not being able to look at the blond, "Did you like it?" he asked, his eyes suddenly sliding up, sharp and steady on the ex-bartender and a smirk easing its way onto his mouth. "Murdering me?" he asked.
If he was dead and if he was stuck in this position, he was going to take advantage of it. He was going to be cruel. Shizuo deserved it. The monster deserved it for murdering him.
By the time Izaya could register the chair coming at him, it was too late to move even if he had been alive. Though alive, he could've taken it. He had taken worse from Shizuo than a chair. Regardless, the sensation of the object going right through him caused Izaya's eyes to widen and his hands to go to his torso. He couldn't even hear the television set breaking. Well, he did, but it was an incredibly delayed reaction, his head turning slowly to look at the damage.
"Dead..." Izaya echoed, quite literally, staring at the ruins of the television set. He touched his hand over where Shizuo had struck. He didn't have much sensation except for one: the dull throb right there. Izaya had a feeling that it wasn't the ghost of his heart beat either. He then recollected the dark abyss and, well, he hated to say it but...He would rather have Shizuo than that swallowing nothing.
But why. Why Shizuo? Why not his own home? Why not his sisters or Shinra even? It made no sense. No, actually, deep down Izaya knew it made perfect sense. They were like two gods, Shizuo and him, two counterbalancing kings of the city. One fell and now things were out of balance.
"I felt it," Izaya confirmed because after all, he remembered it more vividly. The death, the afterlife, the brief period of bordering between phasing out of existence. "There was so much darkness. It was so consuming...Aheh, I couldn't even remember my own name. There weren't any angels. There weren't even any demons," he said, sounding disappointed. Was this all the afterlife had to offer?
His shoulders slumped and he slid his hands into his pockets. Not that it even mattered but it was out of pure habit.
"So Shizu-chan," he said, oddly not being able to look at the blond, "Did you like it?" he asked, his eyes suddenly sliding up, sharp and steady on the ex-bartender and a smirk easing its way onto his mouth. "Murdering me?" he asked.
If he was dead and if he was stuck in this position, he was going to take advantage of it. He was going to be cruel. Shizuo deserved it. The monster deserved it for murdering him.
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