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Shizuo is already angry when he gets to the appointed place, already looking for something to use as a weapon. He is angry that the man he is meeting even dared to text him, angry that he came at all, angry that they're now breathing the same air.
And that air smells like... cigarettes?
There Izaya is, cloaked in the shadows at the mouth of an alley. He's acting like he hasn't seen Shizuo yet. He's putting on a performance that Shizuo has caught him off guard, that he's calmly leaning against the building's side and smoking in a completely casual way. But Shizuo knows that this is all a part of Izaya's plan. In fact, he even recognizes the brand of cigarettes the other man is smoking, which is just another piece of Izaya's scheme. Shizuo swallows back the moan of misery that wants to escape his throat. Even though it's the last thing that he wants to happen, a memory surfaces.
He's in high school again. The temperature outside is sweltering, but the students have not yet been permitted to switch to their summer uniforms, so he is sweating as he crosses the school's roof. While, even at this age, Izaya's behavior is unpredictable, there's a corner of the roof that Shizuo sometimes finds him at during their lunch break. Today, the heat and discomfort are fanning the fires of his temper. He's about ready to punch the other boy off the building just because that smug grin on his face pisses Shizuo off so bad, but then he notices the cigarette in Izaya's slender fingers.
"So you got them?" Shizuo says, and Izaya reaches into the pocket of his blazer and tosses the pack into Shizuo's waiting palms.
"Of course, Shizu-chan," Izaya sings back at him, "They really weren't hard to get at all ~ "
"What do I owe you?" Shizuo asks. He's already patting his pockets for a lighter.
"Nothing at all, Shizu-chan! For my friends, all my services are free!"
Even then, a mere child, Shizuo understands that no one is friends with Izaya and that Izaya does nothing for free. He gives Izaya a skeptical look as he picks a cigarette from the pack.
"Aaallllll of my services, Shizu-chan," Izaya teases him, and he steps closer, so their bodies are pressed together. His fingers begin to loosen Shizuo's tie.
Shizuo shakes his head and growls, and his growl rises to a bellow, and the memory flees back into the depths of his mind. He scans the scene. As soon as his eyes spot the vending machine on the corner, he's on it like a homing missile. He raises the thing above his head, the glass shattering. Bottles of CC Lemon and Calpis and Pocari Sweat rain down upon him, and they roll away as though trying to escape the range of his wrath. He throws his head back and yells, "Iiiizayaaaa!"
Izaya jumps as if startled, but his smile never falters, and Shizuo know's its just one more part of his act. He launches the machine. Izaya, the quick little rat, darts out of its path. It explodes against the far wall of the alley, its liquid contents pooling around the heap of debris. Izaya holds up his hands in mock surrender, "Shizu-chan, didn't you read my message? I called you here on business matters! Not to kill each other, for once."
Shizuo's fingers clench into trembling fists. He looks around, but there's nothing else immediately within reach that can also be thrown. "I don't conduct business with you!" he yells, and he stomps a foot with such strength that it cracks the concrete. He lunges at Izaya, but Izaya makes no attempt to dodge him. He wasn't expecting that. They fall together, and Shizuo lands on top of him with his hands at Izaya's throat. He squeezes, pinning him down against the ground, feeling Izaya's Adam's apple struggle, weak and useless, against his palm.
"Shizu-chan," Izaya croaks. The syllables sound like gasps for breath. "You used to do business with me back in high school. Don't you remember?"
Shizuo's fist had been on a path straight for Izaya's skull, but he freezes. Like mental vomit, that memory resurfaces.
Little Shizuo is lighting his first cigarette from the pack as Izaya is pulling open his belt. Izaya's mouth is wet and hot on his neck as his fingers slide into the fly of Shizuo's pants. His palm finds Shizuo's flesh, and Shizuo sighs around his cigarette. "Who do you want me to beat up now?" he asks him, resigned to this. For he has all the hormones of any boy his age, except his strength means he cannot act on those urges with anyone. He can barely jerk off at night without destroying furniture or accidentally elbowing through the wall. Only Izaya is willing to take all the bruising, all the broken bones, all the abuse.
And, despite how fiercely Shizuo hates Izaya - who will soon, in coming days, frame him for a crime that he did not commit and irreparably break Shizuo's heart - in these moments on the rooftop, he loves the other boy for his willingness. He doesn't mind scaring the people that Izaya tells him to, because Izaya gives him a body to touch and a mouth to kiss. And, in a vulgar way, a hole to fuck, but Shizuo feels guilty to even think of it that way, because, while it's happening, there's nothing vulgar to it. Not for him. In fact, the connection between them in those moments seems almost divine. There is no one else he can feel these things with.
The memory is harder to get rid of now. His brain is panicking, trying to swallow this vision back into storage before it goes too far. If Shizuo's brain allows his heart to remember, too, then it would be a disaster.
Izaya can see the frantic working of Shizuo's mind through his eyes, even behind his sunglasses. "Come on, Shizu-chan," Izaya says, his fingers clawing at Shizuo's hand, trying to pry himself free, "It's been, what, a decade now since you last had release?"
"That's none of your damn business," Shizuo barks. But for some reason, he hasn't crushed Izaya's spine yet. That terrifies him.
"I've been drinking lots of milk and taking lots of vitamins. I can take it ~ " Izaya says. He raises his legs and locks them up around Shizuo's waist, drawing the blond in closer. "I'll even let you fuck me now, just in exchange for listening to my proposition. You don't have to decide yet. That's why I had you meet me here. I'll even pay!"
Shizuo's grip relaxes, just a little, as he tries to make sense of the significance of their meeting place. He glances around. Oh, yes. The building across the street is one of Ikebukuro's most forgettable love hotels. Painted gaudy with zebra stripes and lit up with neon lights, he's surprised he walked right past it without noting it, although his rage where Izaya is concerned does put blinders on his vision. It's not the cheapest place, and it's not on the main strip of Ikebukuro's love hotels, meaning the local couples hardly ever come here. It also lacks the quirky theme that draws in tourists. Even though Sunshine City is only a short walk away, they're close enough to a residential area that the chances of being seen and recognized are pretty slim. The people who might spot them are the kind of every day people who have nothing to do with crime or gangs.
"That's all behind us," Shizuo snarls, "You are the last person I'd want now."
Izaya smirks, caressing the hand that is wrapped around his throat, "Who is the first person, then? You know you can't have them, whomever they are. One second in, they'd be weeping in pain, begging you to stop. You hurt everyone you love, Shizu-chan."
The words are scraping away at Shizuo's anger. In its place is left a loneliness and longing that he has kept buried away for so many years. They are feelings that follow him like his own shadow, but he spends his life ignoring them and using the flames of his anger to banish them. Izaya knows so well how to shake him up. It really pisses him off.
And then, Izaya shoots his final bullet through Shizuo's heart, "Isn't that why you wanted to love me, Shizu-chan?"
How had Izaya known this? Shizuo had never told anyone, not a soul, that he had ever felt anything for Izaya. He had always known that Izaya would use that knowledge against him, so he had kept the secret locked away. And he had been right to do so, because here's Izaya right now, revealing just in time to use it to his advantage that he'd known all this time.
"Do you still love me, Shizu-chan?"
The question sends Shizuo's rational thoughts spiraling out of control. He jumps to his feet and, with a roar that sends spit flying from his lips, throws Izaya overhanded like a human-sized baseball. The sight of Izaya's dark form soaring down the length of the alley gives Shizuo a sense of the world returning to normal. At the last instant, just before his body looks like it's about to slam with bone-breaking force into the same wall as the vending machine, Izaya catches himself on a dumpster and lands, catlike, on its lid. He laughs, and the sound seems to echo off the surrounding walls.
"You do!" he chants, "You do! You do!"
"I do not!" Shizuo shouts, and he rushes at the dumpster to pull it out from beneath Izaya's feet and beat him to death with it, but the smaller man pounces at him, and Shizuo hits the concrete on his back. The fall steals the breath from his lungs, and Izaya is perched on top of him with his switchblade pressed to Shizuo's lips.
"I can give you what you want," Izaya says. He slips the sunglasses off Shizuo's face. He brushes some hair from Shizuo's brow, his fingertips dancing across his skin feather-light and gentle.
No, Shizuo thinks, he cannot. Because Shizuo wants so badly to be loved, and Izaya loves everyone, all of humanity, except for him.
"I know it's not just the sex," Izaya continues, "You want someone to hold. Someone to kiss you until you fall asleep and kiss you awake in the morning. None of that is a price I'm unwilling to pay. I can do it all!"
"No," Shizuo says, and he feels the cool press of the knife against his mouth.
Izaya touches his lips to Shizuo's jaw, and Shizuo shudders. He has missed this, he realizes. Not Izaya. No. But the feeling of a mouth on his skin. It's so warm. It takes all his restraint not to lean into it. "Shizuo," Izaya whispers, and his breath on Shizuo's cheek makes him quiver, "unless you find someone made out of diamond, whose body you can't destroy, then I'm the only one you can risk this with."
"Then I'll risk it with no one," Shizuo decides, the blade bouncing against his lips. Izaya's words have wounded him in a way he hasn't known since childhood. He doesn't feel particularly strong right now. In many ways, the strongest man in Ikebukuro is also the weakest, and Izaya understands that better than anyone.
"Don't be so stubborn. You're only hurting yourself. We don't even have to talk about business at all. I'll text you my offer afterward, and you can decide then. Tonight can just be a free sample of what I have to offer, no strings attached." As Izaya speaks, he slips an arm behind Shizuo's neck, cushioning his head. He lifts the knife away, and his mouth comes down against Shizuo's instead, and Izaya's kiss is terribly, infuriatingly tender. He gathers Shizuo's lips against his own, pulling them apart so their tongues can touch, and the suppressed memories come rising, more of that mind vomit, and each scene is like a new drive of that switchblade into his flesh.
They're in the men's bathroom on the fourth floor of an arcade. He has Izaya up against the sink. Izaya's pale legs are draped over his shoulders. The place is deafening. Even the door can't stop all the music and noise of the machines. Someone is jiggling the handle and knocking.
They're crouched behind a Family Mart sharing a cigarette. Izaya takes a drawl. Passes it to Shizuo. Shizuo passes it back, and so on. The whole time, Izaya is carefully bandaging Shizuo's knuckles with a first aid kid they just bought from the convenient store. Shizuo is still young and naive. He watches Izaya work and thinks, I could do this with him forever.
They're in an unused classroom at school when Dotachin comes bursting in, responding to a very purposefully timed, mischievous text from Izaya. He catches Shizuo with his fist in Izaya's hair, Izaya choking on him, his snot and tears and saliva soaking through the front of Shizuo's pants.
It's only three days before Izaya's betrayal. Waiting for a train, Izaya is being bullied by a boy from a rival school, and Shizuo snaps. He lifts a bench and swings it, breaking both of the boy's legs. The boy's friends jump him, and the brawl that follows is one of the worst Shizuo has ever been in. He only narrowly escapes the police. He is mad that Izaya slipped away without him, mad that Izaya didn't care if he got in trouble or not. But, that night, Izaya climbs the fire escape up to Shizuo's room. He tries to appease Shizuo with sex, as always, but Shizuo tells him that he can't because his parents will overhear. "Okay," Izaya says. He kisses all of Shizuo's bruises and they fall asleep in each other's arms.
Before the memories can bring tears to his eyes, before more can be drawn forth to assault him, Shizuo shakes himself out of their hypnosis. He had been so desperate for affection that he had been willing to accept it from Izaya, even knowing as he did that Izaya was taking advantage of him.
At least Shizuo isn't so stupid or desperate now, he thinks.
But why not do it? If he's confident that he's not stupid, if he thinks his heart knows better now, then can't he separate sex from emotions? Can't he just take the physical pleasure for face value and be glad for it? What could the harm be? Well, for him, at least. For Izaya... there might be a lot of harm in it. Because Shizuo is much, much more powerful than he was in high school.
"You know what? Sure. Let's do it," he says, his tone cold as death, "But I'm telling you right now that I'm not doing any of your dirty work. And you know I never will. So why even pretend? Why not just text me directly and say Shizu-chan, I'm horny instead of concocting this ridiculous plan?"
Izaya neither confirms or denies Shizuo's accusation. He simply laughs and laughs and laughs, and he slips something into Shizuo's palm. Shizuo doesn't understand what it is at first. It feels like a credit card. He lifts it up to look at it. Oh. A room key. The fact that Izaya was so confident that Shizuo would cave in makes Shizuo angry all over again, but he bites back his temper. He'll just use it as fuel for what comes later.
Izaya pockets the switchblade and stands up, brushing filth from his coat. Then he offers a hand to help Shizuo to his feet, a hand which Shizuo ignores. It just makes Izaya laugh more.
Together, the men enter the building and take the elevator up to the top floor, number 6. The place smells like cleaning chemicals. He's grateful that they don't encounter a soul. It feels weird to be at Izaya's side, weird to not be bashing his brains in with his fists, but every urge Shizuo has for violence, he keeps telling himself later later later... In a few minutes, or maybe merely seconds, he'll be able to release it all without holding back.
"I know you can afford somewhere nicer," Shizuo mutters.
"All the nice places would have recognized me," Izaya explains, dancing out as the elevator doors open and skipping down the corridor. He counts the room numbers aloud in a singsong voice until he finds the correct one. He waits in front of the door for Shizuo to unlock it, smiling from ear to ear like an excited child.
It's not a bad room. There's a large bed with some mysterious buttons and controls on the headboard. Shizuo has no plans to touch any of those. There's a large sectional sofa. Leather, he notices, so that it can be easily sanitized. There's a massage chair - leather, too. Still, he can't help but grimace. He's never been into a place like this before, and the fact that hundreds of people have likely fucked in this room make him a little sick to his stomach.
On the wall is a huge flat screen TV, attached to which is a karaoke machine. Izaya waves an arm in that direction. "Look, Shizu-chan," he says, "We have hundreds of adult videos at our disposal, if you need some help getting in the mood!"
"No thanks."
Shizuo's dismissal doesn't damper his mood. He hurries to the bathroom like an excited child, waving Shizuo over to follow him. "And look here! A hot tub!"
The thing is lit up by pink lights and, obscenely, heart-shaped. Shizuo wants to gag. The sight of the tub is enough to almost make him second guess himself. He turns to glance back at the door. Izaya sees his uncertainty and grabs Shizuo by the shoulders, giving him a hard shove. He smirks as Shizuo stumbles backwards, the backs of his knees hitting the rim of the tub, and he crashes down into the water, sending a wave of bubbles onto the floor. He bellows in rage and leaps out of the water, although he looks far from intimidating in his dripping clothes with bubbles clinging to his hair. He flings himself at Izaya, grabbing a fistful of the other man's hair, but then they're sliding around comically across the wet tiles and both slip onto their sides on the floor. Izaya is wheezing with laughter, his ribs aching from the fall, when Shizuo manages to backhand him across the face, cutting his laughter short.
For a heartbeat, the room is silent. Then Izaya looks at him. He spits a mouthful of blood into Shizuo's face and gives him a dangerous smile that drips crimson. His eyes are filled with glee. It's all a very strange sight, considering they both now smell like vanilla-scented soap.
"You ruined my damn uniform," Shizuo snarls.
"Oh? I'm sorry. I'm a very fair man. I'll pay for your dry cleaning, no extra charge," Izaya says. He grabs hold of the sink and pulls himself to his feet, trying not to slip again. Then he begins to peel off layer after layer of wet clothing. Shizuo, shivering a little, follows his example. He is wondering, miserably, if he's meant to just walk home in soggy clothes, when Izaya, now as naked as the day he was born, says with a thoughtful expression, "I was just thinking, Shizu-chan - if it wasn't for me, you'd still be a virgin, wouldn't you?"
Shizuo clenches his teeth. Izaya is right, but why does that make him so mad? He's trying so hard to keep his temper in check, trying not to fall into Izaya's trap, but like a shaken bottle of champagne, he just pops. He lunges for the other man and punches him in the gut so hard that he's lifted off his feet. A spray of bloody spit shoots from his crying mouth. He collapses into the puddle of bathwater again, his limbs shaking as he tries to regain his breath. Again and again he coughs, more blood spilling from his teeth. When he looks up at Shizuo, though, he doesn't look defeated at all. In fact, his eyes are blazing. "This is different foreplay than you used to be into, Shizuo-chan," he teases him.
Shizuo kicks him, and Izaya goes rolling across the tiled bathroom, onto the hardwood floor of the bedroom. He takes fistfuls of the bedspread, using it to pull himself to his feet, and he clings to the wall while his head stops spinning. "Come on!" he shouts, "Don't deny yourself a second longer!"
Shizuo doesn't.
He crosses the room in a pounce and pins Izaya back against the wall by his throat. Izaya's looking at him with such hunger in his eyes that Shizuo knows, no matter how he pretends, that the other man wants this, too. In spite of the blood from his mouth and the nasty green bruise already blossoming across his cheekbone, Izaya is like an animal in heat. They kiss. Shizuo tastes the tang of Izaya's bleeding tongue as it worms its way into his welcoming mouth. They bite each others lips and tongues and chins, their teeth clicking together and rattling their skulls. Izaya's hands paw up and down Shizuo's sides, gripping his hips, his ribs, his stomach, and each nerve, when stuck, shoots fireworks off in his brain.
"Shizuo," Izaya purrs, "Take what you need from me." And he adds to himself, with a small grin, so that I can take what I need from you.
Shizuo throws Izaya down on the bed. He's on him like the monster that Izaya accuses him of being. The contact of flesh on flesh has him dizzy. It's been so long. So fucking long. Izaya's fingers are at his scalp, pulling his hair, drawing him in closer. Shizuo slides a hand up to Izaya's throat, pinning him to the mattress. Izaya kisses him as best he can like that, breathlessly, and through it all, infuriatingly, he continues to smile.
This isn't a joke, damn it! Shizuo wants to yell at him, but instead he grabs Izaya's thighs, pulling them apart, and Izaya raises them, wrapping them around his back. He's so hard already that every beat of his pulse hurts. His erection touches Izaya's skin and the pleasure from that smallest brush alone is white-hot, searing, suffocating. He moans, and Izaya swallows up each sound with his eager mouth.
This is ridiculous, Shizuo thinks. This is like high school all over again. And he's going to end up heartbroken just like he was before. Except it feels so deliriously good to touch someone again, and to be touched. It's so good that he thinks the heartbreak might be worth it. He knows it isn't true. He knows that Izaya is going to use this to hurt him in ways he can't even imagine. But for now, just this one, breathtaking moment, he wants to pretend that he's a normal fucking person. Just once. Just one moment in his life, he doesn't want to feel crippled by his own strength and temper. Only Izaya can handle this side of him, and that is absolutely the truth.
Izaya's body is welcoming. Shizuo glides into him effortlessly, deliciously, lubricated only by the precum that weeps from his cock. The way Izaya sheaths him from base to head is a detail about this experience that he has forgotten. A torment of heat and pressure. This is why Izaya was able to take advantage of him back then. This is why he has swallowed his pride and caved in to temptation. It's worth it, he thinks, to suffer such raw and glorious feeling.
"You're holding back, Shizu-chan. If this is the best you can do, then I'm going to die of boredom down here," Izaya says. He puts a hand on Shizuo's shoulder, and it slides down the muscled curves of Shizuo's arm, down until his fingers are over Shizuo's, and he's urging Shizuo to push down harder upon his throat. Even that sensation, of Izaya's palm snaking down his bare arm, makes Shizuo shudder in bliss.
"Touch me," Shizuo breathes.
"Only if you give me your worst," Izaya hisses back.
That is all the encouragement Shizuo needs. He draws his hips back and plunges down into Izaya brutally. He and Izaya and the bed all grunt out together. Then he's pumping into him, so fast and hard that Izaya's groans melt into one long, anguished cry. His face is twisted in agony, and it is exquisite, because in that grimace there is also so, so much ecstasy. His eyes are rolled back. His mouth hangs open, dripping red from the mixture of blood and saliva that dribbles down his chin. His hands raise to tear at Shizuo's shoulders. His slender legs knock against Shizuo's back. Shizuo can only notice these vulgar details for an instant before his mind is lost to the pleasure. The friction between them is consuming him like fire. He's burning alive. He feels like he's dying.
"Fuck you, Izaya!" He's so furious that Izaya is capable of doing this to him. It's heavenly to have Izaya all around him. How can it be so good with someone he hates so much? He is disgusted with himself, ashamed of himself. He wants to stop, but mostly he wants to ruin Izaya with the savage assault of his thrusts.
Every movement - every brush of Izaya's thigh against his side, every slice of Izaya's nails down his back, every buck of Izaya's hips to meet his crushing weight - is enough to spark a mindless, reeling rapture. At the core of him has been a terrible thirst for contact, and, finally, here is deliverance. It's like Izaya has grown countless hands, and he is stroking, pawing, grasping, rubbing, touching him everywhere from head to toe. It seems Izaya has a million fingers passing over his flesh like a conquering army, each of them dragging Shizuo closer and closer to his limit.
He knows his climax is rushing towards him like a bullet train. His whole body shudders with ripples of pleasure. He is so unwilling to see this end that he could almost weep. How long will it be before Izaya humors him again? The terrible truth that Shizuo knows is that he will come crawling back to Izaya for more of this, even if it costs him his dignity and his heart.
The orgasm grips his body so violently that he is helpless to it. His insides go molten. It is brilliant. Excruciating. Transcending. Vicious. Blessed.
And then it is over, like someone has pulled out the plug.
He collapses, feeling shattered. He also feels ashamed, because his stamina was a joke, and he's sure Izaya will have some cruel words to say about it, but he sees that Izaya has already finished, perhaps even multiple times. His stomach is splashed with threads of his own cum. His eyes are rolled back. His throat beneath Shizuo's white fingers is a violent blood-red. Shizuo stares for a moment, and for the first time since he has met Izaya, he sees him plainly, with no masks on. The right side of his face has swelled from Shizuo's previous blow. He is sweaty and pale, his body shuddering with the effort of trying to take in breaths. He looks like a mess. His guard is down, Shizuo realizes, amazed.
I could kill him now, he thinks. He's not sure he has any remaining strength left to spend, but if he wanted to, he was sure he could muster up the energy. Strangely, though, he doesn't want to.
I still love him. Even after all this time. Even after the unspeakable betrayals, even knowing the monstrous things that Izaya has done.
He can barely move. His limbs feel like deflated balloons. Still, he somehow manages to slide out of the bed and pull himself up to his feet.
He sees Izaya's soul seem to return to that body. The man narrows his eyes up at Shizuo. That smirk returns to his lips. "Shizu-chan, where are you going?" he asks him, "Isn't this part your favorite?" He pats the mattress beside him, inviting Shizuo under the covers at his side.
Shizuo's lips draw back in a grimace. He doesn't answer Izaya at all, simply crosses the room to the bathroom. He shuts the door and leans back against it. His body goes sliding down to the wet tiled floor. How could he still love him? After everything, how? Is there anyone on this planet as pathetic and foolish as he is? He hates himself so much for the way his body just wants more of Izaya's touches. He draws his knees up to his chest and hides his face in his arms. Small ripples of pleasure, like aftershocks, draw sobs from his chest. He thinks, as a teenager, he would have cried in this moment, but he's past that now; he's become mostly numb to the emotions he carries. It takes only a few seconds for him to collect himself, shove his loneliness and self-loathing back into a box at the back of his mind, and stand tall again. He is gathering his wet clothes in order to dress when he hears Izaya calling out to him. He sighs and opens the door.
Back out in the room, Izaya is waiting for him with opened arms. Seeing Shizuo with his hands full of clothes, he laughs, "What's the hurry? You look like a drowned puppy! Don't you want to come curl up in your Izaya-chan's arms?"
"Tch."
Of course he wants it, but it's the last thing in this world that he should want. If he respects himself at all, the best thing he can do is leave. But he pauses, one leg raised to slide into his pants, when he hears Izaya's voice again, and this time his tone is astonishingly raw and needy, like the appeal of a child, "Shizu-chan?"
He makes the fatal mistake of glancing back over his shoulder.
Izaya is alone in that giant bed, trying to sit up, but too weak to do so. Shizuo isn't sure if this is real or an act, or maybe a combination of the two, but the way his legs tremble, the way his hips won't seem to move - it all looks like he's in some genuine pain. His body is so pale and small against the gaudy comforter, but the flushed, swelling flesh around his throat seems to be the brightest thing in this flashy room. I could kill him. I should kill him. But... "I can't."
He's not sure if he's saying this to himself or to Izaya.
He catches a flicker across Izaya's features, something that's there for half a second or less. He looks heartbroken. But then that smirk is plastered back on his face. "So, Shizu-chan, next time should I pay for a rest and not a stay?"
Shizuo narrows his eyes at him. "There won't be a next time."
For perhaps a full minute, it is quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning unit. They stare at each other across the room, and it feels like a vast and insurmountable distance. While Izaya is still and watchful, the smugness on his face unfaltering as he waits for Shizuo to break the silence, Shizuo seems to feel imploring invisible arms reaching out from him, like some telepathic plea. Both men know that if Izaya speaks something cruel and mocking, Shizuo will continue dressing and leave, so it's up to Shizuo. Stay or go, either way he foresees nothing but heartbreak for himself. He wobbles on his one leg, indecisive. The pants anchors him like a ship lost at sea. If he releases them, then he will be pulled back towards Izaya, where he knows he will drown.
He'll hurt me again, Shizuo thinks, but there's something else that occurs to him - I can hurt him, too. He sees plainly that no amount of laughter and sarcasm can hide how much he wants Shizuo to come back to that bed.
He puts his leg down.
He drops the pants.
Izaya's relief washes over him, palpable, and for that instant, Shizuo is almost happy, too.