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English
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Part 1 of Oofuri Rarepair Week
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Published:
2015-08-04
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1,492
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1/1
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2
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Guns and Roses

Summary:

To think after everything, the biggest danger to Mihashi would be himself.

Day 2 of Oofuri Rarepair Week

Notes:

I'm like, an hour before the deadline jfc. This is my entry for day 2 of oofuri rarepair weekend.

ANYWAYS. I hope you enjoy some angsty IzuMiha. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you guys like it.

Work Text:

Izumi ruffled his hair with a yawn as he stepped into the kitchen, straightening his shirt with his other hand. He mumbled a sleepy “good morning” and “thank you” to Mihashi as he reached for the cup of coffee the other had already prepared for him.

“Good morning, Kou-chan!” Mihashi chirped, leaning into the lazy kiss Izumi gave him before turning to sip his coffee.

“Morning,” Izumi repeated, resting his chin on Mihashi’s shoulder as he watched him put together a bento box. “You heading out to work right now? You never leave this early.”

Mihashi made a sound of denial as he hummed, popping the lid on the container with a click. Gesturing for the bag on the counter next to Izumi, he began to elaborate.

“Today is my day off! I get to stay home. This is for you!” He said, placing the box into the bag along with a bottle of cold water. “I wanted to make you a lunch, since you always leave before me.”

Izumi pressed a kiss against Mihashi's neck before separating himself from Mihashi's body. He downed the rest of his coffee before dropping the mug into the sink with a thunk, straightening his shirt one last time.

“You didn't have to, Renren, but thank you. I'll see you when I get home, okay?” He hummed, grabbing his bag off the chair and giving Mihashi a goodbye kiss on the cheek. “Stay safe.”

“See you later!”

And with that Izumi strode out the door, loosening his tie and sliding his bag off his shoulder as he slid into the driver's seat of his car. After all, where he was going he would need much more flexible clothes than a button up shirt and tie.

Reaching into his bag, he grabbed the leg holster and gun he kept stored under there to make sure Mihashi didn't see him with it–that was the only weapon he worried about. His bigger ones were well hidden.

Strapping it on, he checked to make sure the safety was on before starting up the car and backing out of the driveway with a worried glance.

Mihashi was just a civilian, but Izumi was too selfish to separate himself from his boyfriend. He was just careful to keep his work life and home life separate, but even that had the possibility of failing. So Izumi held the constant fear that something would happen to Mihashi while he was gone, despite the protective measures he had put into place.

Letting out a breath, he forced himself to stop chewing on his lip. He had work to do.


 

Stepping into his boss's office, he leaned against the doorframe. He didn't bother stepping all the way in. He wouldn't be here long. It never was. Just report and receive your next job.

“Izumi,” The woman at the desk said, looking up from her work. “I take it you finished your work without struggle? It won't cause us any trouble, correct?”

Izumi nodded. “It was completed as requested.”

She hummed in satisfaction, steepling her fingers in front of her.

“Your performance is exemplary, as usual. It's no wonder you're my favorite employee to call upon for harder requests from our clients,” Reaching over to a manila folder on the edge of the desk, she gestured for him to come over and take it.

Holding back a sigh, Izumi stepped up as requested and flipped the folder open, skimming the contents of the request. What he saw cause his heart to stop and breath hitch.

His boss eyed him for his reaction, slowly asking as she watched him tense up, “I am correct in assuming you will be able to complete this to our client's satisfaction, yes? I don't trust anyone else with this job.”

Izumi choked out a confirmation. What else could be do besides that? It wasn't often his boss used the trust card, and when she did you knew it was for a reason. Those weren't jobs you turned down.

“Good. I expect you to complete this as any other job,” She said, turning back to her paperwork in a blatant move to excuse him.

Izumi stepped out of the room with the folder holding his instructions, movements mechanical. He couldn't–didn't want to believe what had happened.

Just as he closed the door, he heard his boss utter one last thing.

“I have high hopes for you on this mission, Izumi, considering your relationship with the target. If you want to be upset, take it out on the job and blame his family.”

The hand on the doorknob tightened so that his fingers turned white, and he shut the door with a firm click.

He made his way back to his car, looking sick as he obviously avoided looking at the folder in his hand. It wasn't something he wanted to think about.

Target: Mihashi Ren

Conductor: Izumi Kousuke

Client: Classified

Request: Due to illicit activities of the target's grandfather, the client has requested to hit him where it will hurt the hardest–by killing the grandson.


 

When Izumi stepped into the house, he was greeted with a cheerful hello from his lover. To which he responded with a tired smile.

“Hey, Renren,” He sighed, toeing off his shoes and padding over to the living room with Mihashi in tow. Together they sat on the couch in a comfortable silence, neither talking as they both leaned into each other.

After a while, Izumi was the one to break the silence they had been enjoying.

“Hey, Ren?”

“Hm?”

“You know that if I ever hurt you, it's not because I wanted to, right?” He asked quietly, one half begging to get an answer while the other pleaded for silence. He wanted the promise of forgiveness for what he needed to do, but also the reassurance that he would get the hatred he would proceed to deserve.

“Of course!”

“Would you forgive me?” This inquiry held a much similar thought process as the previous one.

“Why wouldn't I forgive you? I could never hate Kou-chan!”

Izumi let himself laugh a little, burying his face in Mihashi's hair.

“You're too nice, Renren. Someone is going to hurt you one day.”

“But I have you! Kou-chan will protect me!”

The smile on Izumi's face faded and he mumbled under his breath to himself, “I wonder...”


 

Later that night found Izumi laying in bed next to Mihashi, favoring the quiet sounds of his boyfriend's breathing.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Soon that chest would be motionless. No more of the rhythmic motions he had grown to know, memorize, and love. And it would be all his fault.

Pressing a kiss to Mihashi's forehead, Izumi slipped out of bed, reaching under it for his handgun–the same one he had been hiding this morning from the same person he would use it to kill. This was painful enough as it was, and he didn't want to drag it out any longer than necessary.

He aimed, face contorting in pain and eyes damp. A handful of tears fell down his face as he shot the gun, bullet carving a clear hole through the head and sending pieces of pillow flying. It wasn't loud or dramatic, the gunshot muffled.

The only comfort Izumi found was in the fact that the death had been instant, and that Mihashi had not suffered.

His next move was hesitant, unplanned. Eyeing the gun, his grip tightened around it, and he slowly brought up it against his temple.

He didn't deserve to live, not after killing his most special person. He didn't want to live anymore. Not without Mihashi.

Bang.

The second shot wasn't as clean as the first. Ironic, considering Izumi had always been neater than Mihashi.


 

The brown-haired woman watched as the news anchor went on and on about the recent murder and suicide that had happened in Tokyo. Her look was grim.

“This morning police found in a small suburban home what appears to be a murder and suicide. Both males were killed immediately by gunshots to the head. The murderer, Izumi Kousuke, age 26, appears to have killed himself from grief after the homicide of his boyfriend, Mihashi Ren.”

“Why does this always happen... I don't want these things to happen, yet they always do. I try to avoid conflict and I just cause more problems. What am I doing wrong? I don't want my employees to die,” She muttered, running her hand through her hair as he rested her cheek on the desk. The younger woman standing next to her, although she wasn't younger by much, offered her a sympathetic smile.

“It's just part of the job, Momoe. There's nothing you can do about it. You can't tell these things. The best you can do is cope with the aftermath,” She advised, patting Momoe's head.

“I guess you’re right, Chiyo... Still, to commit suicide... I never thought Izumi would.”

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