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his heart was fragile, like glass and water so easily disturbed- so easily broken. one ripple, one crack and everything will flow out, blood gushing and flowing and never stopping for one crack- one scratch, can never be repaired- can never be fixed like a cut on the arm. like a cut on the face and a scar on his stomach.

a hand on his face and gentle words- poison and cyanide and sharp like silver on a knife. kids crying and sobbing and small hands gripping on his clothes, one with glasses and one with no soul. desperate, tired and worn, he tried to raise them with gentle words and soft hands and kind eyes but he was never that, was never someone with a pure heart- never someone with morals that rivaled those of angels.

because of him, they grew up wrong. they grew up with hands on each other, lips locking and touching in a way that siblings shouldn't be doing- shouldn't be enjoying. because of him, they grew up with lopsided morals- shaky and weak like a bridge over a ravine- one strong wind all that was needed to flip it over and demolish it all.

their hate bitter and strong and sturdy, feral and filled with fury. anger thrumming through their blood, unafraid to bite and to kick- not scared to harm him even though he raised them as best as he could with missing parents. he understood why, acknowledged why hatred pulsed in their veins- stronger than their own blood, he didn't blame them, didn't hate them for it. it gave him an excuse to run away from his past and his disappointments- his failures and regret.

he distanced himself from them, from his flesh and blood, from the babies he raised with frustration and tears and bitterness heavy on his tongue, betrayal seeping into his veins and pulsing through his mind cursing his parents over and over for they never came, never came back home with words and affirmations of love. they disappeared and left their deadbeat son to raise kids he didn't want. left their family to rot in dust and an old house that reeked of dead bugs.


humans hide behind masks and faces and shadows, words spitting off their tongues with no meaning, with darkness hidden between bright smiles. all humans are the same, hiding between a mask, hiding darkness and truth and the many facades they put on. but, shizuo doesn't. he doesn't bother to hide anything, doesn’t hide the truth or the darkness or the feelings he hold dear. he displays them, high in the air and without a hint of shame.

shizuo is everything that humanity has and doesn’t have, everything he wants and wishes to attain with his cold boney hands. unpredictable and angry, filled with hate and bitterness and yet filled with love- filled with kindness and a love for humanity that is so humane, so human and with so much kindness that it makes his blood boil and his coffee taste bitter. so honest and truthful- blunt with words and actions so forward there was no way he could read between the lines, for they didn't exist because unlike izaya, shizuo doesn't hide behind lies and deceit, doesn't lace his words with double meanings and hidden motives. he's honest in the way he lives, in the way he moves and breathes and talks and exist.

he's a monster because he's crude and ugly and rough and prude. he's a monster because he doesn’t lie, doesn’t omit the truth like all humans do.

he's crude and so inhumane and yet so human. he's everything humans aren't, everything that humans are and it's terrifying, terrifying to think that the humans he loves with all his heart are not what he thought they were.


humans are dumb- despearte for change, desperate for everything that defies the norm that society has set. they’re desperate for anything new, scared of stillness and being confined and yet they fear to change it, fear to escape the room they have lived in all their life and all they've grown to know. they yearn for change, for a key to freedom and izaya has it, holds it to them and gives it to them- just to watch how they grow, how they react and how they change.

humanity is biased and scared of the truth, scared of how they are and how they act. they hide from the truth- averts their eyes and never looks at the ugliness that humanity holds. humans are full of lies, with distrust and facades, so much that the truth scares them. that everything izaya holds and embodies scares them, labelling him as antagonistic and villainous and rude- evil incarnate.

and yet, this is exactly what lets him do what he does, lets him rule from above like a god in the clouds. lets him stare through his window and push them in whichever way he wants, like puppets on a string. lets him turn the mirror on them and see them scream and cry at their reflection, for the truth scares them and terrifies them so much that they rather kill him than stare at themselves for the ugliness they are. rather die than acknowledge they are as twisted as him, as immoral and evil and dark and villainous as himself.


izaya’s above humans, he sees humanity for what it is. ugly and pulsing with hate and bitterness. he oveserves them, observes the way they speak and talk and lie. he's not a part of humanity, he's not human- not loving and caring like so many humans are. he observes them from above, pushes them in ways he thinks are fun and watches them self destruct. he loves them, loves the faces they make as they sink into despair, loves the faces they make as they laugh and smile and live, love the faces they make when izaya turns the mirror only for them to see themselves and all the flaws they've desperately been trying to avoid- fear stricken and scared.

he loves humans, he loves humanity, he loves them with all of his heart, all of his soul, and all of his mind.

that's how it's always been.

until simon punches him in the face on the sidewalk.

words spewed with bitterness and clarity, simon called him a coward to his face.

and although izaya loves humans with all of himself- with everything that makes him, him. with all his blood and tears, simon still calls him a coward- still says he’s only obsessed with shizuo and victory and seeing him cry on the floor.

he laughed and deflected, watched the miniature movements on simon's face before he leaves.

anger fills his blood- pumping hot and heavy and fierce, strong and wild and izaya has never felt this angry before. his fists curls, tight enough to pierce his own skin with his own nails, feels his own blood drip down the curves of his palms- and curses in his own head. angry and heaving he hits the walls of his brain and yells at simon, internally and repeating, as he leaves his sight.

he loves humans, he loves them all, humans are the only thing hes obsessed with. picking and tuning the small parts of the human psyche drowned him with euphoria that nothing else could even dare to imitate.

he was obsessed with humans, not shizuo.

not in any aspect, not in any world, no matter how many universes existed there was none where izaya was obsessed with a monster.


hes bleeding out on the expensive leather of the car, the black stained with red and kine with his eyes on the road and manami in the back, looking out a window.

he can see the worry that swirls in the depths of kine’s eyes, but he doesn't bother to decipher anymore. his vision is blurring and hazy and all he can see is blobs of color, blocky and round and lacking any detail he's used to seeing.

he sees the color of shizuo’s hair, sees the frown in his brows and the gun in vorona’s hand. sees the clear, brown of shizuo’s eyes and even though hes angry and furious they still shine with the honesty that makes him, him.

he laughs, loud and wet with blood- coughing onto the textured pattern of the car and letting his saliva dribble down his chin.

as he sits in this seat, textured and rough just like expensive cars are, he acknowledges everything he has refused to see.

and as his vision blurs, the corner of his vision hazy and black, he thinks- bitterly and defeated, happily and accepting,

shizuo is human.