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It had all started with Shinra.
The seemingly endless battle between the edge of a knife and the brunt of a fist. The raucous symphony of cruel laughter and hateful shouts. The growing mess of bottles staining circles of condensation and alcohol on the surface of the table.
Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima stared across at each other as they each took another swig of bourbon, one gaze more steady than the other.
It had started with Shinra. His birthday to be exact. He had insisted that his two closest friends come over to celebrate, his gratingly irritating voice doing little to persuade either of them at first. A well placed reminder of how much property damage they’d caused him was enough to bring them to his doorstep. Shizuo out of guilt, and Izaya out of hope that they’d cause more damage as revenge for Shinra trying to guilt trip him in the first place.
So far Shinra’s apartment was as intact as it was when they’d walked in. However, the creaking of wood underneath Shizuo’s grip threatened to end that streak. His face was flushed and he reeked of booze. Izaya wondered if he looked the same. He couldn’t remember exactly how he got here, locked in a ridiculous drinking match with Shizuo in Shinra’s apartment. All he knew was that he’d intended to win.
Perhaps it was a fruitless endeavor considering Shizuo’s freakish tolerance to anything that would bring a normal man to his knees. This included throwing back shot after shot and still looking composed while Izaya’s vision spun. It was at this point that Izaya decided something. He would come out of this victorious or die trying, and Izaya didn’t plan on dying anytime soon.
He took comfort in the simple fact that he was clever and Shizuo was not. He was clever enough to dilute his bottle with water, and Shizuo was too stupid to notice. A dozen or so drinks later, Shizuo was hunched over the table with a strange cocktail of frustration and confusion painted across his cherry red face. Izaya smirked.
“What’s the matter, Shizu-chan? Your face is so red, it reminds me of a blood clot. It’s making me sick~” he chirped, idly swirling around the alcohol in his glass.
Shizuo growled and looked up to shoot a scathing glare Izaya’s way. Though, the effect was lost with how he struggled to keep his gaze forward. “You bastard… who are you to talk, huh? Your face is too damn pretty. Hurts my eyes,” he slurred, squeezing his eyes shut as if the sight of Izaya truly caused him pain.
Izaya’s hand froze, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim before settling back into stillness.
“…eh?”
If Izaya’s face wasn’t flushed before, it definitely was now. His lips parted on words he couldn’t quite grasp through the alarm bells blaring in his mind. He desperately tried to make sense of what he’d heard. Since when did Shizuo-the man he hated and who hated him in return- think he was pretty? Before Izaya could even gather his wits, Shizuo’s head was tipping forward and knocking into the table with a dull thud. The sound echoed in the complete silence of the room, prompting Shinra to come bounding in from the kitchen.
“Did you guys break something? You’ve been on your best behavior all night so I’ll accept my loss-“ His cheery rambling was cut short by the sight of Shizuo slumped over the table unconscious and Izaya looking like he was about to combust. “Oh! Did you win? I was sure he’d call you out for cheating!” Shinra laughed as he stepped into the room and poked at Shizuo’s forehead, likely weighing the risks of taking a blood sample while he was out. He shifted his attention to Izaya soon enough though, and observed him with curious eyes. “Your face is really red, Orihara-kun! Did you drink that much after all?”
Izaya didn’t care to listen to what else Shinra had to say, choosing instead to bury his face in his arms and attempt to fight away the heat in his cheeks.
Shizuo really was the worst.