A/N: Thank you Nixxy, Lystrious, and Just Anon :) You guys totally float my boat! Yeah, I feel like I'm definitely going to have to bump this up to M soon...
The chapter title comes from the group Bright Eyes.
I don't own Durarara.
i heard you fell into a rabbit hole
tell me where'd you go for days and days
When she wakes up, she has a horrible, pounding headache. The kind of headache that sits in between her ears and smashes a hammer around her skull, and it hurts so bad that she can only clench her eyes tightly and waits for it to pass. She wishes she could blame it on the E hangover from last night, but she cannot; she's been having these migraines since last week, even on days when she didn't get high the previous night.
Once the feeling passes enough for her to open her eyes, she slowly rolls over on her side to sleepily pick up her cellphone. Her eyes scan over the screen (it's approximately 2:14 pm in the afternoon on a saturday) and she notices the little envelope in the corner that signals she has a new text message. Blearily, Mayonaka rubs her eyes and sits up a little and goes to her inbox.
I know we have agreed to meet later this week, but I really need to see you tonight. I will pay you triple the usual amount.
Please let me know.
It was from Yamamoto. Her eyes linger over the courteous text (so different from what you're actually like, old fuck), specifically triple the amount, and then she types a message back:
11 pm, usual place
She hits the send button. She doesn't really want to meet up with him. Every molecule and atom and whatever else she is made up of is (telling her no no no, he's the worst out of all of them) against the idea. The money, though, is something she could use, so she tells her instincts to shut the hell up and get over it.
It's unusual, but she's actually hungry. Normally after she rolls, she feels no urge to eat whatsoever, but she thinks she might have been doing it so much she's starting not to be bothered with most of the after effects. She stares at her ceiling and wills herself to get up, like she does everyday. When she finally does, she looks at herself in the mirror that's on top of her bureau.
There's bags under her eyes, but it isn't anything that can't be concealed with make-up. Her face is pale, lips dry; her short hair is ruffled in every which way direction, so she tries to make it look presentable before she goes out to silence her now grumbling stomach. But before she does anything, she needs her morning cigarette, badly. Once she lights one up, she strokes the cross on her rosary and thinks about how later tonight will be. None of the scenarios she comes up with are pleasant - for her (he'll get his just wait he'll get it tenfold), at least.
She thinks about how sore she is from last night (it'll only get worse after you meet up with the old fuck), from Blondie; and at the thought of him, abstractly wonders if he's realized he's missing money yet.
Shizuo blinks groggily as he awakens, and tries to lift his head up, but he can't because it feels like it's filled with a million gallons of whiskey sloshing around. He doesn't think he's ever been more grateful it's his day off. When he looks at the small digital alarm clock lying next to his bed, he groans at the fact it's almost three in the afternoon. This is only one of the reasons he doesn't go drink himself silly.
He musters up the strength to get up and runs a hand through his hair. Staring blankly at the wall he's facing, what happened after the bar last night is suddenly remembered, and for a second he's speechless, or would be if he was even talking out loud. He can't even believe it himself, and he thinks he might even be thoughtless if that's possible. Regardless, he is thinking about it (she said her name was Risa), because there isn't anyway he can't. It makes him feel normal, just a bit, to know he has chipped away part of what makes him so damn different from everyone else, even if it is only something as simple as getting laid.
The blond likes this sense of normalcy, so he attempts to bring up her image, and does so without much difficulty. He cannot forget the face of someone who has managed to bring him a feeling he has only chased and turned his back on. Shizuo remembers her charcoal black hair, the choppy ends and mussed bangs.
Wide green (couldn't tell at first until he got a good look at her inside his apartment, inside her) eyes, green like the shaded grass you would find under a tree. He does not remember clearly what she was wearing, since she has made the most of her impression on him in the time they spent unclothed, but he knows that she kept that clear beaded rosary on the whole time. He looks next to where he is sitting on the bed.
She's not lying there, and he knows this, but it might be something he considers a good thing that she isn't. He also, unfortunately, remembers that he lost control (what else did you expect to happen you know you're a monster) halfway. Shizuo knows this because the sounds of pleasure that came from the lips that she would not allow him to kiss became diluted with a tinge of pain; guilt comes over him like a tidal wave, and he frowns. Yes, it's a good thing she isn't here, because he doesn't know what he would say (i'm sorry i treated you like that, Risa, whoever you are) anyway.
Twenty minutes later, Shizuo has pulled himself together enough to make a trip to the convenience store on the corner. He must have smoked all his cigarettes last night, and now he's craving one with intensity. When he reaches the store, he goes to the back to grab a bottle a milk before heading back to the cashier. He tells the clerk what brand of cigarettes he wants, and takes his wallet out. He opens it up, and although there is enough to pay for the milk and cigarettes, there is definitely three quarters less than what had been in there last night.
He does not want to admit it was her, but he can't deny it. The wallet had been filled when he pulled it out to pay for his drinks last night, and now he feels like a total fool as his grip tightens around his wallet. He must look like murder, because he can see the clerk eye him nervously from behind his blue sunglasses. A pissed off growl escapes him, and the clerk probably thinks it's directed at him.
The clerk slides the milk and pack of cigarettes to Shizuo with shaky hands. "J-Just t-t-take it!"
Shizuo glares at him, rips the money out of his wallet and throws it down on the counter. The clerk merely gulps as he grabs his purchases and storms out of the store.
He is absolutely furious, but he finds it is mostly at himself. He should've known (that the smile last night meant nothing except she knew she was getting an easy swindle) something was up; things like that never happen to him, ever. Why would they suddenly start happening now? He wishes he was working today, because at least then he could release some of this anger. He thinks he might even want to see Izaya, just to be able to throw something at that irritating face of his.
All he knows is that if he wasn't able to forget her before, he definitely can't now.
It's quarter to eleven in the evening, and Mayonaka is steeling herself for what she is certain lies ahead. The fifteen minutes she spends in this dirty motel room doing this passes by too quick for her liking, and a knock on the door sounds throughout the otherwise quiet room. She slowly gets up and goes to the door, unlocks it, then closes it again as Yamamoto steps inside.
"I appreciate this, Risa-chan." Without delay (speed up the process it'll be over before you know it) she slips her dress off over her head, then takes off her thigh highs and shoes.
He gives her a (disgusting) smile. "Eager tonight, are you? Don't worry, I'm in no rush." He's standing in the bathroom, and he starts unbuttoning his white collared shirt. "Work has been very stressful lately - I'm sure you've heard - and you know how I get when I'm stressed..."
Yamamoto quickly sheds his remaining clothes, hangs them over the shower rod, and advances upon her. She wishes she could shrink back, but knows she can't. So when Yamamoto pushes her to the bed, eying her hungrily (stop looking at me like that stop it stop it), she does not twitch a single traitorous muscle.
The session is only twenty minutes or so in, and she thinks that he's never been this rough - and for Yamamoto, who leaves her aching and sore and bruised on a normal day, it is saying something. He is cursing at her and calling her terrible things, because that's what he likes. Her head bangs against the headboard with every movement, and she can feel a headache coming on again. His heavy weight is settled on top of her, trapping her, and she utterly despises it.
And then, he is coming, and he grabs onto her throat. His eyes are drinking in (stop looking at me like that you old fuck stop stop) the strained look on her face like a man who has been in the desert far too long. She's choking, and he's squeezing her skinny throat tighter and tighter and tighter in his blind pleasure, and-
hail mary full of grace the lord is
"-trouble, walking around like that. And no shoes, either?"
It is like someone has removed a blindfold from her eyes; like someone has plucked her from one scene in her life to another, except she has no idea what her lines are or the setting. Her eyes dart around until they land on a young man in a dark jacket with fur trim.
Mayonaka is no longer in the squalid motel room. She is not being choked and trapped under that horrible weight. She is standing on an overpass, next to a railing, and she can see a deserted portion of street when she looks over the side. She tries to grasp onto anything familiar, something that will not make her feel so lost and confused, and notices with a small degree of relief it is the overpass she goes over to get to her apartment.
Now she notices that cold is starting to climb up her legs from her feet, and she looks down. She is not wearing any shoes, and when she tries to back up, her feet start to sting. Trailing her eyes up from her legs, she notices that she isn't wearing any of her clothes, either. Her coat is not there, her dress isn't there - she is wearing (Yamamoto's?) a big white dress shirt, buttoned only far enough to be tiptoeing over the line of decent. The glass beaded rosary is the only thing she owns that is actually on her person.
"What a strange girl! All banged up, too..." The person speaks again, but she is still looking herself over, patting herself with a growing fervency.
She notices her hands are stained with a reddish-brown color, and there is crust of the same color (blood? is it mine is it his what the fuck happened) underneath her fingernails and in between her fingers. There are dark, small splotches on the pocket of the shirt, and some items (two of them are round) are bulging out. She wants to reach in and see what it is, wants to see anything that might give her a clue how she ended up here with no memory of having done so. Before she can do this, the man speaks again.
"Or maybe you've already gotten into trouble?" He has a smirk on his face, and it only widens when her eyes flash to him like a cornered wild animal's would.
The man is looking down his nose at her, and she does not like it. The way he stands under a flickering street lamp with his face upturned towards the light sends a glow to his eyes, and she cannot help but be transfixed by them. They are dark, dark red (red just like the blood on your hands isn't it so pretty) and she feels like they are laughing at her, too, just like his lilting voice.
She opens her mouth to speak, and it doesn't work the first time because her throat is dry, scratchy, and it hurts. Mayonaka raises a blood stained hand to massage at her throat, then tries again. "Who are you?" Her voice sounds a lot braver than she feels, and for that, she is thankful. "Did you take me here?"
He is still looking at her condescendingly with a sneer, but he has started laughing again. "D-did I-" He stammers out between sharp chuckles, "take you here?" He is now pinching the inside corners of his eyes, and one of his hands clutches his stomach as he bends over from the force of his mirth. "Silly girl... you must've taken yourself here!" He exclaims, then drops his hands into his pockets and steps towards her.
"I'm dying to know, so please, tell me..." He is still taking slow, sure strides toward her. He is grinning (big bad wolf), and she can see that his teeth are white even in the dim light. "... how you got so interesting?"
His voice is quiet, yet it reverberates in her mind as something dangerous, and she wishes she was not rooted to the spot. "Ah, how did I get so lucky to find someone like you?"
Mayonaka wishes anything would happen to stop him, because now he is less than a foot away. "I mean, really-"
And like that, her wish comes true as a deep, enraged scream cuts through the night air. Both her and this strange man turn their heads to the direction it came from, and (oh fuck fuck)it's Blondie.
The quickly approaching footsteps are still going strong, and she still cannot move as Blondie charges towards them like a bull. The man swivels his head back to her. "I certainly hope we meet again. You know, I have a funny feeling that we will!"
And in a snap, he is gone and racing into the dark, and she cannot see a single trace of him left. He has done his disappearing act in the short time it takes Blondie to get there, and he lets out an angry growl when he realizes the dark haired man has seamlessly escaped. She urges her feet to move; she doesn't necessarily want to get beaten by the man who she stole money from last night, not really. Her foot moves forward, towards the direction she knows her house is in, and he suddenly notices her when he stops glaring out into the murky darkness of the city (wherever that man has gone?).
She keeps moving forward, except she's facing backwards to watch him cautiously. Those coffee eyes widen as he gets a good look at her face, and she knows he remembers her.
"Oi..." He starts, and she turns to the right direction and begins running. She ignores the pain spiking up her legs from her bloody feet, because it is nothing next to the pain Blondie could probably have her feel. "Come back here!"
Blondie is fast, because she is running at full speed and he is catching up to her, fast. She urges herself to go faster, and then darts around a corner, then around another and another to try and lose him. It may mean she'll have extra ground to cover on her way home, but it's better than being caught by a man who has been one-upped by someone like her.
It must work, because the footsteps have disappeared from behind her, and she leans against the brick wall of an alley to catch her breath. While she was running, a keyring has started coming out of the pocket. Pulling them out, she realizes it's her house keys. She pants and looks to the side, and judges by the familiar shop lined street that her place is only a few blessed minutes away.
There are a few people milling about, so she takes a deep breath and hurtles herself out there, aiming to get to her complex as fast as she possibly can. She's sure nothing good can come from people seeing a young woman dressed in nothing but a blood splotched, big dress shirt. Mayonaka scrapes by with only a couple odd, disinterested looks.
It feels like it's been forever when she reaches her door, and she unlocks the door hastily with her newly found keys, then locks the door and slumps down it. She swallows and remembers the rest of the items in her pocket, and reaches in. She feels something flat and smooth, and it's her cellphone. She looks at it for a few seconds, and decides to look at it in a little bit to see if she has made any calls during the time period she can't remember. There's still something in her pocket, though, so she pulls whatever it is out (why does it feel so-) and brings it up to her face to inspect her findings.
And once she does, she just can't help the bloodcurdling scream that rips itself from her lips, because there's two, glossy eyeballs staring at her, cross eyed and lifeless, from her bloody palm.
Soooo ... was anyone expecting that? Haha, so much for the 'suspense' part, I guess~ But at least there's still the 'horror' to look forwards to! And I had Izaya make a little appearance for now - Please let me know if I had him (and everyone else) in character, and how you felt about the way he enters in the story this chapter! Just curious, I love hearing from you guys. :)
And as always, I'd love to hear what you think about Mayonaka, any other opinions, love, criticisms... you know the deal. And I'm not sure if anyone has seen this on my Author's Note for the latest chapter of Heart Station, but the twentieth person who reviews this story will get a gift-fic from me~ So yeah! Motivation right there, right? I think/hope? And besides, more reviews leads to faster updates...
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed.