9Sunlight swept into the cramped apartment room. Eyes swollen with sleep and body numb instead of refreshed, the raven haired man shifted from his bed. His bed alone. An open area on its side, as if some person neither seen nor heard still slept there. His toes brushed the carpet, ears ringing, hands shaking.
It wasn't supposed to feel like this...
The room was too warm, too bright. He drew the shades closed, concealing himself in darkness. His skin felt bare, despite the clothing covering it. Something else was missing. Some vital layer stripped from his flesh, leaving him cold and naked in isolation. Chest felt tight, time felt too fast, the world was spinning too quickly for him to stand. Some new sense of the word 'alone' struck him with every beat of his heart.
I wasn't supposed to care...
Fingers reached out independently, grasping the box on his night stand, clutching, holding it close his his chest, as if it could fill the empty space. A flick of his thumb resounded in the completely silent room, opening the box, the familiar scent flowing too quickly into his nostrils. Izaya slowly pulled one item from the box, slipping it into his mouth, letting the feel of it wash over him, as if it could take some of the pain away.
You weren't supposed to matter...
Eyes closed, hands searched, rubbing over smooth tabletop, seeking the lighter. Izaya lit the cigarette, inhaling, and choking on the billowing fumes barreling down his lungs. He coughed, clutching his chest, eyes watering, as he smirked bitterly, thinking of how the previous user had the same effect. Overwhelming, but vital. Vital and gone. Vital to live as usual, vital to keep going, whether he had known it or not.
We weren't supposed to need like this...
Standing on feeble knees, he inhaled again, the same fatal and needed effect taking the pain away and replacing it with a new pain. Anything to take the pain away. His hands shook, felt smooth hair, smoother skin running beneath them, mouth felt the lips of another locked tightly, attempting to convey passion that words simply could not. Stomach felt fingers brush lightly, sweeping over sensitive skin. Legs felt the heat, clenched tightly around the other body, pressing harder and harder, as if the skin between was too much.
It was only supposed to be once...
Now there was eternity. What happened after death, Izaya didn't know. He wanted to believe one could stop existing, and simply cease to be, but how could one who didn't exist hurt another so much? Another whiff of the cigarette sent a pale palm onto the table, to balance the fit of coughs. Why can't it hurt more than I do now, he thought bitterly. How can nothing hurt more than the emptiness.
When did it change...?
Every human was the same. Humans passed every day. Hundreds...thousands of humans passed every day. If they were all the same, why couldn't they all hurt the same? Lust was an emotion...a chemical imbalance in a human's system. Love was the same, as was hate, and fear and sadness. How could they all go away? How could all emotion abandon one human, as if no chemicals, nothing was left.
You weren't supposed to change for me...
He didn't cry. The man never cried. But as the silvery cool bead of liquid dwindled its way down his pale, sickly face and rested on his chin, he realized that he had changed too. He closed his eyes, breathing softly under inhales of the cigarette, which were dulling the pain of it all. It was hate. He had loathed the other. He had wanted nothing to do with him. But he had never felt so happy as when he was around him. His heart beat fast, his mind racing, as if the whole world were to disappear, other than he and the other. As if everything were for that eternal thrill, only found in the other. He had wanted to say it was hate. It was always supposed to be hate. It was never supposed to change. If it had remained the same, it wouldn't hurt like this.
When did I fall in love with you...?