Complications

It would have been far too idyllic if the world went the way he wanted it to; in fact, he would have been absolutely ecstatic if just his life went the calm, peaceful way he wanted it to. Even just a taste of it would have been absolutely wonderful. Just for a day; yeah... A normal day would be nice every once in a while.

"Fuck." God, it was so annoying. Nothing ever went right. He exhaled sharply, smoke billowing out into the air, and with a flick of his fingers, he dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his heel. Dusk was falling, and even though it had been hours since Tom had told him that they were good for the day, Shizuo was still royally pissed off. There was something in the air that tingled and made him wrinkle up his nose in disgust; trouble was coming. It was hard to tell if it was in the form of the growing and ever evolving tensions between the old color gangs and Dollars, or if it was something else entirely—some other drama dealing with some other people, but he swore he saw the tale-tell flick of a brown furry jacket hem earlier in the day, which always signaled disaster and seriously elevated blood pressure. And maybe a few flying vending machines, but he never could be sure—whatever was closest probably. Damn.

He hadn't seen head or sign of the flea since, something that should have been utter relief. Shizuo gave an angry grunt, shaking another cigarette out of the packet and lit up before pushing himself off of the wall he was lurking on, stalking through the city. People gave him a wide berth, having seen enough flying people, signs, and the occasional trash bin on the horizon that day to chance being the next one to end up in the hospital—adding to the disgruntled blonde's temper. It wasn't like he wanted to add new, people shaped, entrances to the buildings in Ikebukuro… it just happened. He hated it; it wasn't even as if he could stop it. He could try, but it only added to his fury when he eventually did crack. God, that was why everything was fucked up. Or rather…

He almost wished Izaya would show himself; he knew it had been him whipping around the corner that morning. The flea should just show himself so they could get the whole thing out of the way. As much as he hated it, Izaya was the only person Shizuo actively wished violence upon, and for no good reason either. He just hated the other man. It went past hatred, really. Izaya yanked on every single one of his chains, jammed every single button, and then enthusiastically stomped on his last nerve. …Well, that wasn't all true; he didn't entirely hate Izaya. It was so ridiculously complicated that he didn't understand it himself. It was a pride thing, he supposed.

He slunk through the city, slowly winding himself closer and closer to home. He was waiting to cross the street when Celty pulled up, waving at him. He raised his hand in greeting, extinguishing his cigarette.

"Hey. What brings you out tonight?"

The woman produced her signature phone, typing away. Shizuo had long since gotten used to their conversations, ignoring the people who stopped and stared at the smoke exuding from the rider's fingers as she worked on her reply. "Work. But it went wrong, and so I never got to do anything. You look mad."

"There's something in the air," Shizuo replied with a shrug. "It's more like severe irritation."

"It does feel like something's going to happen."

"Eh, but that's life. Say. You haven't seen that fluff-jacketed flea around have you? Causing problems?"

"Izaya-san? Are you looking for him? Don't go starting fights!"

Shizuo laughed, "I'd like to go home in peace, but if he is wandering around putting his nose in other people's business, I'd rather kick him out before he fucks things up again."

"He's rather helpful sometimes."

"…When it benefits him, you mean. You know what he's like." Shizuo sighed, shaking his head. "It's all just some freaking game to him. I'd love to rip his head off and show him a thing or two."

Celty winced a bit, and shifted, her helmet reflecting the lights of the streets up into Shizuo's eyes. "Why do you hate him so much? What'd he do, really? Is there something that I don't know about that?"

"You know the story," Shizuo said reproachfully, leaning against the street sign as they chatted. "The rat framed me and laughed his ass off about it. Oh, and then he sent all those stupid gangs after me, lording over it like some damn king."

"But… you were found innocent, right? I mean, yeah. Of course it's cause for you to hate him, but you two were always like that, even before that. I've never got it." She paused, "It was the truck that did it, wasn't it? Shinra never said what started it all."

Shizuo sighed heavily. It amused Shinra to no end; Celty, though. Well, she always tried to stop them, so. "You know. He just pisses me off. It's like… I don't know; you've seen it…"

X

True, they had hated each other from the day they met. He frequently cursed that day upon waking up and going to sleep; how different could his life be if he hadn't met Izaya? Not too different, surely; but maybe it'd be just a little easier? Probably not in the slightest. But from the first day, it was obvious that there was no way that they could even have any semblance of a 'normal' relationship. They couldn't even have the pleasure of ignoring each other. There was Izaya, who had all the control in the world but could still call fighting and violence 'fun', and treated people like they were toys, and then there was Shizuo who couldn't control himself even if he decided to try, hated violence but still ended up throwing people and things like they were toys. They just couldn't exist in the same room together without trying to murder each other. It went that deep; it was that senseless. Maybe it could have died out on its own, but Izaya never left him alone. Everywhere he went, there was Izaya, pulling some sort of strings, treating Shizuo like his own personal entertainment system. Who knew. There was no use trying to figure out a different future from the past.

But he was the flea's favorite plaything; Shizuo couldn't forgive that nor could he understand it. It pissed him off. It annoyed him. Every time Izaya popped up it was to twist something for his own pleasure—it had always been like that.

There were things about their situation that neither Shinra or Celty knew, and Shizuo would never even dream of telling them. There was no way; he didn't really believe it himself. It was better not to talk about it, especially since both he and Izaya pretty much ignored what had happened save for once in a blue moon. Even when it wasn't being swept under the rug or being thrown aside along with the street signs and punches, it really wasn't ever talked about… Almost as if failing to speak of it made it not exist. Shizuo doubted that anyone on Izaya's side knew; he didn't have much faith that Izaya wouldn't spill for a price, but he was pretty damn certain that it would have to be a very high price to get the informant to divulge. Maybe he was arrogant in thinking so, but he was pretty certain that it was Izaya, mostly, who wanted to completely deny the existence of that… incident. It was years ago now, while they were both still in high school…

X

Shizuo awoke with a start, staring groggily at his pillow without a clue why he was awake. He grumbled reaching behind him to pull his blankets back up because he was cold, when he heard it. It was the slightest shift, alerting the blonde that someone was in his room. He rolled over and sat up, glaring when he saw that his window was open and the curtains billowing out in the wind. The whine of sirens coming closer came into the dark, and as the clouds moved away from the moon, a familiar gakuran-clothed figure became apparent across from his futon.

"Oh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?" Shizuo demanded, hurling a pillow at Izaya.

Izaya caught it, sneering as he tossed it back at Shizuo. "What does it look like?"

"Breaking and entering," Shizuo replied grumpily. Dammit, he wanted to go back to sleep. "Don't you have better things to do than make my life miserable?"

Izaya shrugged, treading across the floor to peer out the window. The sirens drew closer, along with the sounds of closing doors and running. He smirked smugly. "A little cold of a night to be sleeping without a shirt on, you know?" he teased.

"Oi, get out," Shizuo snapped. "How the hell do you even know where I live?"

"Shinra," Izaya replied with laugh, closing the curtains. "You're no fun, Shizu-chan. Don't you want to play?"

"No way," the blonde grumped, flopping back into the futon, rolling on his side and trying his best to ignore Izaya. He liked his room the way it was; he didn't need to be throwing things and breaking them. Besides, he had a shrewd idea why Izaya was hanging around, and if he left well enough alone, maybe the man would leave on his own when the police cleared out.

There was a soft 'hmph' from Izaya, but nothing else. He had the feeling of being watched, but he ignored it, closing his eyes and steadying his breath. Before long he was comfortably drowsy, half-amazed at his own control over the situation. Maybe it was because he wasn't quite awake, or he couldn't see all of Izaya; whatever the reason, he wasn't quite as mad as he should have been.

Izaya watched as Shizuo dozed back off, tipping his head to the side. He crept silently forward, amused, but taken aback, at how easily Shizuo had ignored him. This was almost as fun as their fights were—Shizuo always amazed him. The second he thought he'd figured out how the blonde ticked, there'd come a new situation, or Shinra would tell him something surprising and he had to completely re-evaluate how Shizuo played the game, only to find that he was surprisingly constant when it came to face to face confrontations. It was intriguing how drawn he was to Shizuo, and it was a constant source of entertainment and frustration. There was a sort of instability to Shizuo that Izaya wanted to capture and hated at the same time. It was ridiculously complex; sometimes, so complex that even he, who knew other's secrets and emotions within hours of meeting them, could not figure out his own attractions.

Tonight, he'd underestimated how stupid people could be, and even though he could easily smooth everything over if he'd been caught—or avoid capture all together—he'd allowed the police to chase him a bit just so he could take refuge in Shizuo's room. Call him crazy, but it was fascinating. Shizuo was an ongoing battle, even in the hours that he wasn't orchestrating something or actively fighting with the blonde. It was something he couldn't leave alone.

As Shizuo drowsed on, Izaya kicked his shoes off. He shrugged out of his jacket and unchained his wallet, piling them underneath the window. Cold air rushed around him, questioning what he was about to do. He gave a brief shiver but turned anyway, and strode towards the futon.

For the second time that night, Shizuo awoke with a sharp jolt. Cold air rushed under his covers and something warm slipped into the futon beside him. Shizuo froze, forcing himself to not put two and two together until Izaya's voice sounded in his ear; "Relax. The police aren't leaving any time soon, and I don't feel like evading them. You wouldn't kick me out when I'm cold and tired, would you, Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo felt goose-bumps rise on his neck on his arms and squirmed, "Oi, oi, get out, you—!"

Izaya reached out and slipped his arms around the blonde, "Hey, hey, stop, or you'll push me out!" he warned, sounding a little gleeful.

Shizuo stopped the instant those arms wound around him. Never mind that an elbow back could fix the problem, or even a well placed kick—all he could think about was how warm the other's breath was against the back of his ear and how cool Izaya's hands were. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Izaya laughed, "I'm very clearly seducing you, Shizu-chan. It's not my fault you're too dense to get it."

Brain stuck, and heart going on high gear, Shizuo didn't really think as he rolled over, coming face-to-face with Izaya. Their foreheads touched and Izaya smirked, sliding one hand up Shizuo's back. "Wh…what?" Something wasn't right here; this was Izaya, the man whose mere mention sent him into a blind rage… and he was seducing him? Something wasn't… it didn't really add up, or did it? He really just wanted to go back to sleep…But there was something mesmerizing in those dark eyes, and slowly the urge—even the mere thought—of shoving the other away slipped from Shizuo's mind.

Izaya laughed; "You really are dense aren't you?" This was fun. Above fun, it was pleasant and satisfying. It was another way to mold Shizuo, to guide him along a set path that only he knew the directions to… or did he? How could this turn out; what could happen if he actually lost this game?

"Shut up," Shizuo muttered, sliding his arms around Izaya against his better judgment. What was he doing? Why was he doing it? It was the same senseless urge of their battles; it was blooming silently behind his eyes, deep in his chest, whispering to him in the sounds of Izaya's voice and the wind whipping his curtains back and forth. It was surprising; unexpected. Izaya was the constant thorn in his side, a pest, a parasite—always there to trip him up and mess him up.

Heat rose in his cheeks as Izaya's fingers brushed lazily past the scar on his chest from their first meeting on their way to his hair. He leaned forward, barely even needing the slight guidance from Izaya's fingers. He paused briefly, wondering just what the fucking hell was he doing?—before moving forward again, catching his lips against Izaya's.

They both sort of froze at the soft touch, but jolted out of it as the storm outside finally rolled through, thunder rumbling lowly outside, building in volume and intensity as they moved towards each other, coming closer and closer together.

Shizuo rolled slightly, body half-covering Izaya's as they kissed, brain numbed and body hot—where the hell had the other teen learned to kiss like that—? He pulled away, short on breath, and moved to sit up. Izaya grabbed his arms, scowling in the way that he did when things didn't go his way. "What're you doing?"

The blonde gulped, finding Izaya undeniably attractive, even though he was still as annoyingly smug as ever. Maybe it was because there was a hint of helplessness there, hidden behind a pout and flushed cheeks. Or maybe he'd just finally lost it completely. In any case, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling, exactly. "It's raining."

"No shit." Izaya sat up slowly, shirt falling back down his stomach from where the blonde had pushed it up. He licked his lips, eyes darting to the window, then back to Shizuo, then leaned forward and pressed him into a fiery kiss, one designed to trap his blonde companion, and draw him closer. It always worked. It always pulled whoever he was trapping back into his arms.

Shizuo sighed softly; he was unsure of it was in content or slight irritation at Izaya's need to control every situation. He absently reached up to smooth his fingers across Izaya's face; "Wet rugs aren't fun. Neither are wet wallets or shoes or cell phones, which is what you'll have if you don't let me go close the window," he said, slipping out of the futon to close the window.

Izaya blinked, leaning back into the pillows, a little bit surprised at how hard it was to control Shizuo. But that was what made the man fun. Infuriating.

Shizuo grabbed his window and hauled it closed, getting blasted in the face with wind and rain and a handful of leaves, much to Izaya's pleasure. He noted that most of the police cars were gone, though there was one silently cruising down the silent street. "What did you do, by the way?" he asked, growling as he knelt on the futon, Izaya chuckling as he picked the damp detritus off of Shizuo.

"This and that, Shizu-chan, but what's more interesting is what we're going to do," he purred, pulling Shizuo back into him and into a kiss, bodies and mouths melding together in the dark.

When Shizuo awoke the next morning, he was alone again, the only evidence that Izaya had been there was the open window (dammit, that bastard, close the damn window—), the leaves littering the floor, and the handful of bruises the darker teen had left behind.

X

When something predictable, say, so predictable that you could set your watch on it, suddenly vanishes, you're left with an indefinable feeling of loss and sorrow. Shizuo never thought that he would actually miss losing it at Izaya, but he did—since that night, Izaya had been AWOL. Shinra had said something about him having to lie low after something or another—Shizuo hadn't really been paying attention, too irritated at Izaya to even really bother trying to care when he actually did for once.

Just when he'd resigned himself to actually missing the stupid flea, Izaya popped back up, acting as smug and cheerful and irritating as ever. "Hahahah, yeah, man, I thought I was in for it!"

Shizuo paused at the classroom door, knowing the voice as soon as he heard it. He threw open the door a little harder than he should have, growling as he saw Izaya happily chatting away with Shinra and some kid named Kadota. "Izaya!" he roared, finding that the door was now in his hands and perfectly poised to be tossed. There was no real reason why he was mad, he just was. Everyone in the room scattered, even Shinra took cover. Izaya was the only one left, and so Shizuo chucked the door, knowing as soon as it left his fingers that there was no way in hell it would hit Izaya.

And thus, they went back to their normal schedule of animosity, that night and the questions it raised burning at the back of Shizuo's mind.

X

Shinra Kishitani- 17:15

Dude. I can't believe you have a date with that girl. Really, Shizuo?

Shizuo Heiwajima- 17:19

At least she has a head.

Shinra Kishitani- 17:20

Low blow! Ouch! 丶´Д｀Not cool!

Shizuo Heiwajima- 17:25

Yeah. Sorry. Celty's cool. But lay off—you know why, alright?

Shinra Kishitani- 17:30

I know, I know, but, really? Shizuo, don't just go on a date with a girl because she's the only one in the class not running for cover. ≧ロ≦

Shizuo Heiwajima- 17:49

Look, I gotta go. And shut up!

He almost… for once… actually wished he'd listened to Shinra. What was the world coming to? First the… incident… with the pest, and now this? The end of the world must be coming.

This was so boring. He sighed, and took another bite of the ice-cream, idly listening to the girl chatter on, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dates were never this boring in manga, they were breathless and always ended up with the hero being a bumbling mess but still being absolutely cool. He didn't feel cool in the least; he was bored. He was stuck with some yankee-wannabe girl who continuously talked about herself, and the creeping, itching feeling that despite his best efforts, he was going to lose it. He grit his teeth, staring even harder out of the window, watching the world swirl around on the street.

"Oi, Shizuo," the girl piped up, "Are you okay? Your ice-cream is melting."

"En." He took another mechanical bite, feeling his fingers tighten around the flimsy spoon.

"Ah, I was starting to think you weren't listening!" she laughed, completely clueless.

The spoon snapped in his fingers the same second someone knocked on the window. Shizuo turned to find himself face-to-face with Izaya, who was waving gleefully outside of the ice-cream shop.

"You—!"

The darker teen pointed to himself and laughed, then promptly flipped Shizuo off, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet and striding off, having done his daily duty to severely piss off Shizuo; little did he know that Shizuo was already there without his help. He'd probably regret trying to piss Shizuo off if the blonde told him that he was actually thankful for providing him another outlet for his temper.

Shizuo bolted up out of his seat and slammed down enough money on the table to pay for their ice-cream and more, along with the now shattered bits of his spoon.

"Gotta go."
"Oi—oi! Shizuo—we're not done! This is a date—don't tell me you'd rather go off and fight than be on a date—"

A grin spread across Shizuo's face, making him look rather manic. "Yeah. Actually, I would. See ya." He turned on his heel, and took off, itching to just plant a solid fist into Izaya's face… or something. Anything. Something to free him from this feeling, this anxiousness.

He skid out of the store, racing around the corner he saw Izaya disappear around. "Oi—Oi!" Damn, where did the flea go? Why the hell did he even care? It wasn't like he was going to thank the man for saving him from that boring-ass date, and he didn't really feel like spending the evening popping his shoulders back into place after throwing a vending machine. He paused at an intersection, looking around; across from him, smirking, stood Izaya, leaning back against the signal post.

He took a step forward, only to have his view obstructed by passing traffic; when it cleared, he charged forward to where Izaya was still waiting, only this time with knife in hand. He casually pushed himself straight, ducking easily as Shizuo swung, arm moving out in a swipe.

Shizuo dodged just as effortlessly, their fight moving them backwards with lunges and evasion into an alleyway. Izaya jumped up as gracefully as a cat, laughing.

"C'mon, this is boring!" he taunted, "You're not giving me anything to play with! And—you're just leaving yourself wide open!" He took a leap forward, pocketknife slicing the air at the same time Shizuo hurled a nearby trashcan, odds and ends flying through the air as the edge of it clipped Izaya.

Shizuo wasn't exactly unwounded either; blood seeped slowly down his shoulder, dripping from the tips of his fingers as they stood silently, glaring each other down. People gave the alley's entrance a wide berth; not even the 'toughest' of gangsters were daring to even look its way.

Izaya rolled his shoulder experimentally, bones popping as he forced them back into place. He grimaced nastily, and then leaned back, giving a slow smirk. "Just standing there, Shizu-chan? Are you tired? Don't you want to play any—"

"Shut up!" Another trashcan went flying, though his aim was off by at least three feet. It hit the brick wall beside Izaya with a crash, rumbling weakly as the dented metal body tried to wobble itself upright as it hit the concrete ground. "Will you just shut up for a minute? Damn!" He stood panting, shaking in anger.

Why the hell was he so angry? It made no sense, but Izaya had always pissed him off beyond belief. Why? They just clashed in all sorts of the wrong ways. And then, there was—

They both took a step forward, Shizuo reaching out to grab the front of Izaya's uniform, while Izaya flicked his wrist in the right way, knife pressed under Shizuo's chin. Neither of them moved past that, both panting angrily.

He could taste the remnants of his date in the back of his throat, bitter and chemical, so artificial as compared to this, which was raw and angry and natural. It was building, the way it had that night, their faces, their bodies close together. Shizuo could feel it building, the strange tender feeling that suddenly overwhelmed his anger, but he broke it off, spitting out a word before it took over completely and he succumbed to the weakness then and there. "Why?"

Izaya arched an eyebrow, "Not like you to question while you're doing something, Shizu-chan." He flicked his knife closed, accepting a stalemate. Shizuo grasped him all the harder.

"Answer me. You always have something to say, so say something."

"Why is a big question, Shizu-chan. Don't be so arrogant as to assume I know everything," Izaya chuckled, giving his trademark grin.

Shizuo seriously doubted that; sometimes he doubted Izaya was even human. He gave him a quick shake, "I didn't say you knew everything. I said you always have something to say," he spat. "Listen to me for once."

"I've always listening. Failure to do what you want, Shizu-chan, does not constitute me not listening."

"I was under the impression that it was what you wanted, too."

"Ah." Izaya paused, pursing his lips in thought. "Well, you would think that." He gave a derisive laugh, but Shizuo saw the way his eyes darted around for escape.

Shizuo took a step forward, pinning Izaya to the wall. "I did. So explain. If I don't like it, you'll get the dumpster as a prize," he threatened. Was he actually threatening someone? He hated violence, but in this case, for Izaya… maybe it was okay. He was playing right into Izaya's hands, but maybe this was what he wanted. To be controlled and molded carefully, without worry, just to know that someone out there—someone, anyone—cared enough to try to take him captive.

Izaya laughed again in mirth, "Please. Save me the dramatics, Shizu-chan." He looked up at his companion, and sighed, "At least let me go first."

Shizuo weighed the options, rolled his eyes, and parted from Izaya.

"If you really want a reason, Shizu-chan," Izaya said, darting under Shizuo's arm and trotting towards the opening of the alleyway. "It's because I love humans," he declared, throwing his arms out with a shrug.

"My ass," Shizuo muttered, though he paused when Izaya's smile faded and he looked over his shoulder.

"I love humans," the slighter repeated. Izaya tucked his hands into his pocket, watching the foot traffic behind him. "And sometimes, I even love you," he said quietly, looking back at Shizuo. "Later."

Shizuo paused, frozen to the spot; he couldn't have pursued Izaya even if he had wanted to. He watched the other man disappear into the crowds of Ikebukuro, helpless against the heat creeping across his face and tingling at the peripherals of his limbs. He hadn't known what he wanted to hear just then, but that was not what he expected, but it wasn't at all unpleasant. He'd been singled out, parted from the masses of swirling, nameless, faceless beings that Izaya so cared for; ever since the beginning, he had not been human, he had been Shizuo Heiwajima to the man who took no individuals in account. One day, he would truly understand the gravity and the expanse of what he heard, but even then, standing dirty and bloody with the aftertaste of something chemical in his mouth, without knowing what control was, Shizuo recognized just how embarrassing and shameful having an individual to think about in his game of faceless beings was for Izaya.

He never did forget the words said then, even though they still fought as the years went on, each time growing in rage and violence. He half wondered if the games were part of the twisted game Izaya was always playing, a strategic move of the knight to capture the king in surprise and doubt, but the times they subsided long enough to act on the words told him that even if they were never said again… Izaya had told him the truth he wanted, and how they were, and always would be, was his payment.

It wasn't so bad.

X

"Let's just leave it at I just want to kill him every time I see him!" Shizuo clenched his fists mid-air and mimed wringing something between them, ignoring the woman as she typed something furiously on her phone. Just the thought of the flea got him riled and angry.

"Um… Shizuo-san-!"

"Just one look at his stupid face! Ever since high school, he's been following around behind me—that parasite!"

"Really—Shizuo-san, I would—you know he's—"

"He's what? He's definitely not a decent person!" Shizuo raged, shaking in anger. "I really just hate his guts!"

"Why, Shizu-chan, that's not very nice! You could hurt my feelings!"

Shizuo whipped around, coming face to face with Izaya, spluttering in surprise. Izaya grinned and winked, hopping back, blade already drawn.

"Right behind you." Celty sort of wilted, half-heartedly holding up her PDA for Shizuo, even though the blonde had already forgotten that she was there.

"Iiii-zaaaa-yaaaaaa-!" The street sign he'd been leaning against was already in his hand, the sound of crumbling concrete accenting his enraged declaration. "Get the hell out of my face!"

"Oooh, are you mad, Shizu-chan?" Izaya goaded, dodging the swing Shizuo took at him with the sign, cutting through the air where the blonde had been with his knife.

"I told you to stay the fuck out of Ikebukuro!" This had been what he'd been waiting for all day, the tension of Izaya doing what he pleased, the anger of it, the eventual confrontation. Even if he could figure out how to control himself, he knew that Izaya would always pop up and undo it all. No matter how strong he could become, no matter the strength he'd already procured, Izaya was his weakness; the ones he cared for were his biggest weakness, but he couldn't bring himself to be alone.

Even it had all been a game; even if Izaya could fake it all and make it seem true, the truth in his own actions still remained and overwhelmed Shizuo. Just one night—just a few hours, had changed the entire way he would live his life. It was ridiculous. It was senseless. It was complicated.

Shizuo cocked his arm back, ready to hurl the sign forward into the flea's smug face. Maybe if he could land a hit, even just once, and knock Izaya away, maybe his feelings could be knocked out as well. He seriously doubted it, but even so…

He hesitated for a split second, then hurled the sign anyway. He missed; Izaya dodged. It always happened that way. He always hesitated.

Oh well.

Author's Comments:

So I want to apologize for how clumsy my prose is; I haven't solo-written fiction in some time. In all honesty, I'm really amazed I was able to write something that was at least a little coherent. I'd told myself after a certain incident that I wouldn't write for a while and let myself relax a bit.

Yes. That's right. I discovered Shizaya. LOL.

I could have contented myself in doodling away, but I always dream about series and things that I like, and I told a friend of mine about a dream I had, and I ended up writing it out. Hahah, so this is my thank you to her for making me remember that I wanted to watch DRRR!.

A lot of care was taken in making them as in character as possible. The title's a bit dumb, but it's better than how it's named on my computer ("shizayafic"). Yeah. That's how I roll. =w=;;