Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Another Saturday night alone, Shizu-chan?”

Shizuo grits his teeth, willing himself to ignore it. Once he crosses the street he’ll be 10 minutes from his home.

“You can chase me if you want," Izaya trills. "It’ll give you something to do.”

“Drop dead, flea," he growls.

“Now no wonder you're all alone, with that attitude,” Izaya taunts. “I might have even hung out with you if you'd asked nicely.”

In the middle of the road, Shizuo snaps back to face him. Lately he’d been getting better at ignoring Izaya. He's seething inside, but forces himself to take a breath.

“You're the one who's alone, Izaya,” he says steadily. “And I wouldn't hang out with you if my life depended on it.”

He had been in the middle of the road, he knows that, but it was at night, away from the main junctions; it didn’t matter. He sees the look on Izaya’s face before anything actually happens, before he’s thrown into the air and the world explodes with pain.

-

He is in the hospital. He knows this because he can see himself in the hospital, lying on the bed. At first he hadn’t recognised himself under the bruises and bandages. And then a nurse walks through him and starts talking to his mother.

“I’m here,” he says, and they don’t take any notice. He touches his Mother’s shuddering shoulder, and his fingers slip through her.

“No! What is this? What the fuck is this?!” He tries to smash the heart monitor, the chairs, the goddamn bed, with no success. He pauses, panting. Though he’s not really panting, he’s just going through the motions. He realises he should probably be paying attention to the nurse.

“-too early to tell at this stage. He’s young and healthy, so we can hope for the best...”

Shizuo drifts out again. My being a numbskull saved me. He looks around. So I’m half dead. I guess there’s no God. Unless that comes later...no, I don’t want to be dead! He tries to force himself back into his body, but he might as well force himself into one of the chairs. It made no difference.

“He’s stable,” the nurse is saying. Shizuo slowly comes to understand that they can, that they will do nothing at the moment but wait and see.

Why don’t they do something? Shock me back to life, or something?

Kasuka has not said anything yet, but his face is caved in as if Shizuo were already dead. His parents look about 10 years older.

“I’m here!” he yells. “I’m right here! Why won’t you help me?”

When he can see it will do no good, he sinks beside them into one of the chairs.

He stays with them all night, and the next afternoon, his Father suggests they should all go home and have something to eat.

“Yes,” Shizuo tells them, just in case, on some unconscious plane, they could hear him. “Dad’s right. I can come with you. You’re not missing anything here.”

He looks down at himself uneasily. What would happen if he ‘left’ his body? He might stop breathing. He would have to perform some experiments before he went off.

And so he does, starting with the end of the corridor, the lobby, the parking lot, dashing back and forth between each at longer intervals. He discovers he can sort of...teleport when he concentrated hard enough.

“This would be neat, if it didn’t mean I might be about to die,” he says, to anyone who cared to listen.

Kasuka is holding Shizuo’s hand, his ‘real’ hand. A tear rolls down his cheek.

“Kasuka…”

Shizuo is about to reach out, but his Father beats him to it.

“There’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s come back tomorrow.”

Shizuo goes back to his parents’ house. He darts back a few times to ‘check’ on himself, but there are no flatlining machines, no frantic nurses. He’s still and breathing, same as ever. Shizuo shudders and turns away.

Kasuka is leaving when he returns, doubtless to be comforted by Rubi. Shizuo leaves with him, unable to stand the sight of his parents’ tears. He can’t bear to follow Kasuka either. So what should he do? Celty! Celty may be able to see him - why didn’t he think of that right away? He appears in their apartment in an instant.

Shinra and Celty are side by side on the sofa, hand in hand, heads bowed as if they were praying. Shinra is in the middle of mumbling something when his phone rings.

“Izaya again,”  Shinra sighs, cancelling the call. “He’s driving me nuts.”

“Hey, Celty!” Shizuo shouts, waving his arms at her. “I’m here, I’m right here!”

She continues tapping at her phone, oblivious. Shizuo doesn’t crane to read what she is saying, as it’s clearly not for him.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!” he shouts at them.

“Surely he’ll pull though,” Shinra murmurs. “He survived a truck once.”

Shizuo catches Celty’s screen this time.

I could kill Izaya. I always knew he would go too far one day, but I never thought it’d be Shizuo who suffered like this.

“Well, he’s paying for it,” Shinra says, shaking his phone. “He’s pretty devastated.”

Shizuo frowns. The flea, devastated? 

He finds himself drifting from Celty and Shinra, curious about the flea. He switches to Izaya’s apartment instead.

Izaya is curled up on his couch. He stares at his phone with dead eyes, scrolling through it idly. Peeking over his shoulder, Shizuo sees he is reading about the accident on the forums.

The informant sighs suddenly, quits the chat and calls Shinra. Shizuo sees on his phone that it’s the eighth time he’s tried. This time Shinra answers.

“I told you Izaya, I don’t know anything. I’ll call you as soon as I do. Maybe you could have brought him to me in the first place if you wanted me to know how he is.”

“You weren’t fast enough!” Izaya screeches. “The fucking ambulance was faster. Why didn’t you get there faster?!”

Shizuo tunes out of what Shinra is saying, staring at Izaya. Shinra’s voice turns soothing down the phone, and Izaya closes his eyes.

“I know,” he says into the phone. “Sorry. Can I come over?”

Shinra’s voice comes again in a different tone, faster now, apologetic. Izaya doesn’t look very surprised.

“OK.”

“Find something to do,” Shinra tells him. “Do some work.”

“Oh no, I’ve pulled out of everything I’m working on,” Izaya says vaguely. “I can’t think.”

Soon after he hangs up, slides back until he can curl up his legs, closing his eyes. 

“Izaya...” Shizuo says, unnerved. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop it!”

He decides he will stay with Izaya until he snaps out of it - Shizuo reckons it will be half an hour, tops, before Izaya will get bored and get over it.

Hours later, Izaya still hasn't moved from his couch. He hasn't moved at all except to check for news of Shizuo and to decline incoming calls. Shizuo yells at him until he’s tired himself out.

Exhausted, he slumps to his knees in front of the couch and reaches out uselessly.

“Izaya…” he sighs. He watches him sadly for a moment. “I’m right here. I'm not dead, and you're not on your own. I'm here.”

The informant jerks as if he’d been struck. Shizuo lifts his head hopefully, but Izaya's eyes are already dull again.

“Did you hear that?” Shizuo says. “Did you feel that I’m here?”

He keeps trying, but Izaya doesn’t react again.

-

And so the days pass like this, Shizuo drifting between his family, his friends and himself. He visits Izaya when visiting everyone else became too painful. He tends to find Izaya a wreck, more of a ghost than Shizuo himself. He stays in bed or on the couch in a t-shirt and cotton trousers, poking at his phone. He leaves a message for his secretary and tells her to take another week off.

“Bad idea,” Shizuo tells him pointlessly. “You shouldn't be alone so much.”

Shizuo kneels next to him on the couch and tries to take hold of his ankle. He has never been this close to the informant before – at least, not without having to worry about a knife – so he looks now. His eyelashes are wet, his cheekbones too sharp.  

“What's the matter with you, flea?” Shizuo says. “You hate me, remember?” He thinks for a moment. “Was it your fault? I don’t think so. You looked pretty shocked. Maybe it was sort of your fault, even if you didn’t arrange it. But you didn’t force me to stop in the middle of the fucking road. I always stop whatever I’m doing to shout at people.”

Shizuo stops to reflect on this, and sighs.

“Why do I shout at people so much? I ask myself this all the time, but I never really think about it, y’know? Why am I like this? It’s not like something terrible ever happened to me. You’d laugh if you knew, but my parents took me for all kind of tests when I was a kid, you know, for like repressed memories or abnormal hormones. But they found nothing. This is just who I am. A freak.”

He tips his head back against the couch, approximately level with Izaya’s chest.

“I don’t want to die when I’ve done nothing but work in bars and fight with you. I’ve never left Japan. Never been in love. Never, you know, created anything, just destroyed. Never had a pet, or even a fucking plant. I’ve never found what I’m good at. People can say what they want about you, but at least you’re smart, you got good grades at school, you know other languages, you have a job you like that pays you well and you do pretty much whatever you want. I’ve never done anything. I’m just the freak who breaks stuff.”

He tilts his head to see if Izaya has fallen asleep, but his eyes are staring open, unseeing.

“You’re a good listener,” Shizuo jokes, reaching up to pat Izaya’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

He closes his eyes. He had been spending almost as much time with Izaya as he had with his parents. It wasn’t exactly less painful, but he felt almost obligated to be there. As far as he could tell, Izaya was alone every day, not working, talking to no-one, barely eating, barely moving. If there was even a slither of a chance that Izaya could sense him, could take some comfort from him, then Shizuo should keep going to see him.

Shizuo tips his head back against the couch he can't feel and also falls silent.

Shizuo should stay with his parents, Kasuka, Celty, Tom, but they all have eachother. Izaya on the other hand is also alone, and makes no attempt to comfort or distract himself.

“Why don’t you call your Mom?” he suggests to Izaya. “I never call my Mom enough. It’s something you end up regretting…”

Izaya doesn’t respond. After a while he pushes himself up from the couch and heads into the kitchen.

“At last, food,” Shizuo cheers, following him. “And make it something decent, OK? Not soup or toast.”

Izaya is digging into the back of a cupboard, standing on his toes in order to reach. He emerges with a sealed, dusty looking bottle in his hand. Shizuo’s enthusiasm sinks.

“Ah, Izaya, that’s a bad idea. Believe me, I do this sometimes and it just makes everything worse.”

Oblivious, Izaya finds himself a glass and goes back to his couch. He pours himself a drink and puts his feet on the coffee table.

“Here’s to you, Shizu-chan,” he mock-toasts. Shizuo shudders as he throws his head back.

-

“I told you so,” Shizuo says softly, a few hours later, as Izaya is throwing up into his toilet. He leans against the door and watches Izaya retch. He no longer yells at Izaya as much. He is beginning to accept his role as helpless spectator.

-

When the police show up, a day or two later, they knock and knock until Izaya can’t ignore them any more.

“Orihara-san?” the first of two police officers says, when he finally deigns to answer. Their eyes are hard. Izaya's are blank, uncomprehending. He barely manages a nod. “We'd like to ask you some questions about Heiwajima-san. Please come with us.”

“I'm under arrest?”

There's a significant pause.

“Not at this time.”

Don't laugh, Shizuo wills him. Don't laugh.

Izaya doesn't laugh.

“Is he dead, then?”

“That's none of your concern,” the first officer says, at the same time as the other says, “No.”

The first shoots his companion a dirty look.

“You need to come with us now,” the first officer says once more, regaining his authority.

“Can I get changed?”

“Be quick.”

Shizuo follows him upstairs. He expects Izaya to make an urgent call to one of his shadier connections, or even to a good lawyer he could probably afford, but instead he just slips into jeans and a clean shirt, fishes around for his socks and jacket.

Shizuo stays with Izaya all the way to the police station.

They are polite at first. They bring him tea.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” the first police officer says. “How do you know Heiwajima-san?”

“We went to the same high school,” Izaya says. “We had a mutual friend.”

The second checks his notes.

“Shinra Kishitani?”

“That’s right.”

“And it was Kishitani who introduced you both?”

“Yes.”

“And when did you first begin to fight?”

“Well, straight away. As soon as we met.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t like the look of me, or something. He seemed pretty surprised that I wasn’t scared of him and that I could fight back. Later that day he tore off a drainpipe and threw it at me.”

Izaya smiles weakly at the memory, his first smile in days.

“You think that’s funny?”

“You had to be there.”

The officers exchange a glance.

“Did you upset him on purpose?”

“I wanted to see how he’d react.”

“You wanted his attention?”

“You could say that.”

“And how would you sum up your relationship to date?”

“Our relationship?” Izaya shrugs. "We don't like each other."

“ Why didn’t you like each other?” one of the presses.

Izaya shrugs.

“I really don’t know.”

The notes are browsed again.

“We have it from several reliable sources that, both in school and out of it, it was usually you who started the fights with Heiwajima-san. Is that correct?”

“...I suppose it is.”

“Can you tell us why?”

Izaya apparently can’t, or won’t.

“It seems to me,” the officer resumes. “That perhaps Shizuo disliked you, but you did not dislike him, if you wanted his attention. And you never got over it.”

Izaya gives a twisted smile.

“Are you implying I am murderously in love with Shizu-chan?”

“Just answer the questions, please.”

“That wasn’t a question, it was a statement.”

“Let’s talk about you,” the other intervenes quickly. “We know you live alone. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Izaya shifts.

“No."

“When was your last relationship?”

He sighs and rubs his eyes.

“This is a bit irrelevant, isn’t it?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“My last relationship...my last proper one was probably in high school, final year.”

“What do you mean by ‘proper one?’”

“Well, I’ve fooled around since.”

“You mean you’ve had sex?”

“Yes, I’ve had sex,” he says, exasperated.

“With who?”

“With whom,” Izaya corrects, oblivious to their glares. Shizuo wishes more than anything that he could kick him under the table. “Strangers. Usually through an app, sometimes in bars. Occasionally with my ex from school, but not very often. But you’ve probably spoken to her already.”

They ignore this.

“Only women?”

He shifts, as if uncomfortable.

“Don’t lie,” one of them adds.

The twisted smile comes back.

“I see where you’re going with this. Yes, I’ve slept with a few men. But I didn’t try to kill Shizuo because I’m hopelessly in love with him.”

“Then please can you explain why you have been obsessed with him for years?”

“Obsessed is a strong word.”

They are about to argue when there is a knock on the door. Another officer comes in and murmurs to one of his colleagues, who visibly tenses.

“I’ll be back,” he says, and the two of them exit together.

Izaya and the remaining officer look at each other. The officer leans over the table and turns off the recorder.

“You are trying my patience, Orihara.”

Izaya doesn’t reply.

“This is only a formality, you know. Even the best informants leave a trail sooner or later. Like rats. We have been building a case against you for a long time. You and your Yakuza chums.”

He gives Izaya a chance to speak, or chooses not to take it.

“If you don’t want to find yourself with charges far worse than you have committed, then I suggest you confess.”

“I’m not an informant,” Izaya says. “I don’t know any Yakuza, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spreads his palms lazily. “But I don’t care either way.”

“I strongly suggest you take my advice.”

The second officer returns, and the tape is surreptitiously turned back on. The questions continue.

Later, the officers take a break and are replaced by two others who question him for an hour, and before the first return. Izaya is brought a tuna sandwich and fresh tea, which he doesn't touch. The smell of the tuna makes Shizuo feel vaguely sick, so he cannot imagine how Izaya must feel.

They ask about Izaya’s parents never being home. They ask about his poor relationship with his sisters. They ask why he had no friends, no girlfriend, no hobbies, had never taken a holiday, didn’t celebrate his birthday.

“Were you jealous of Heiwajima-san?” they keep asking. “For all his troubles, he has a good relationship with his family and plenty of friends. His hospital ward is very popular.”

Both Izaya and Shizuo flinch at this.

“Perhaps you wanted him for your friend too, but he wasn’t interested,” the officer suggests again. “Perhaps you took that to heart. We all know you have the connections to take care of your problems.”

Izaya is silent.

“Let’s establish one thing, at least. You hated him, didn't you?”

It is a long time before Izaya says, “yes.”

His face gives away nothing. It is Shizuo who snaps a couple of times and screams and them, for all the good it does. He yells at Izaya too.

“Why don't you ask for a damn lawyer?” he demands. “Tell them they can't talk to you like this without evidence. Ask for a phone call, and call one of your Yakuza buddies. You can't just sit here!”

Izaya sighs for no reason, almost as if he hears Shizuo. Shizuo falters and waits, hoping. The interrogators are also quiet, watching him.

“OK,” Izaya says casually. “I did it.”

They lean forward now, scenting blood.

“Did what?”

“I ran him over.”

“You couldn't have run him over, you weren't in the damn car,” the officer says, with barely disguised impatience.

“I pushed him, then. I arranged it.”

“Why?”

Izaya looks at him blandly.

“What do you want me to say?”

“How dare you!” he shouts. “How dare you imply this is being orchestrated! Now tell the truth, in your own words, and stop wasting my damn time!”

They watch him and wait. Shizuo watches him too. His heart is hammering like its his future at stake. He wonders if this is effecting his actual heart, but he can’t tear himself away now to check. He wills Izaya to not say anything else stupid.

A knock comes again, startling them all. It is the same officer from earlier. There is another whispered conversation, more agitated now. This time they all leave. They don’t bother telling Izaya where they’re going or when they’ll be back.

Shizuo eyes Izaya uneasily. He feels sorry enough for him to try and hold his hand.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t want you to go to jail, flea," he says. "They can’t take advantage of you like this when you’re - when you’re so upset.”

They are not left alone for long. The officers return with an older man Shizuo vaguely recognises - an older man who looks pissed.

“You didn't have to come,” the first officer is grumbling. “We haven't done anything to him.”

The stranger ignores him, heading straight for Izaya.

“What the hell, Izaya? Why didn't you call me?”

“They didn't offer me a phone call.”

“He didn't ask,” the officer puts in quickly.

“We're leaving,” Izaya’s saviour says in disgust, just as Shizuo's finally able to place him. Kine.

“You’ve got a fucking nerve,” Kine tells the officers, as Izaya gets to his feet. “How long’s he been here, 17 hours? Without evidence? I could get you canned, you piece of shit.”

“We’re just doing our job,” the officer says heatedly. “I’d thank you to stay out of it.”

“Sure. Next time one of your informants is dragged into something, I’ll make sure I stay right out of it.”

He takes Izaya’s arm and tugs him away.

Kine rants away at Izaya as they drive away, who had looked briefly amused at the officers’ expense, but is now apathetic again.

“Unbelievable. Let me tell you, anyone who has even a slightly connection with Shiki, and that man's like a shark after blood. Why didn’t you call anyone, Izaya?” He revs the engine with unnecessary force.

Izaya shrugs. 

“Tell me everything, while it’s still fresh in your mind. Did he raise his voice? Did he threaten you?”

“Is Shizu-chan dead?” he interrupts. "It's been 17 hours since I checked my phone, and the battery's dead."

"I don't know. Anyway it's nothing to do with you. You’ve answered a few questions to help them with their investigation, and that’s the end of it. It was a bloody accident.”

Izaya sighs. Kine repeats his question.

“They did a bit,” Izaya says vaguely. “It doesn't really matter, Kine, I don't care.”

“My guy said you'd started to confess!” Kine says, swerving to miss a tardy pensioner taking her time across the street. “What were you thinking? They really could have kept you on genuine legal grounds if you even hinted you were guilty of something.”

“I don't know. I was so tired.” He mutters something else, so indistinctly that even Shizuo, squished between them, doesn't hear.

“What's that?”

“It kind of is my fault,” he mumbles. “Even if I didn't do it.”

“Eh, Izaya, none of that,” Kine says wearily. “In the eyes of the law you didn't do it, and that's that.”

“Does Shiki know you came to rescue me?”

“Never mind Shiki.”

“I hope you don't get in trouble.”

Kine huffs and doesn't reply.

He softens, however, as he drops Izaya home.

“Have something to eat, will you, and get some sleep.” he says, looking Izaya over. “It's a shame what’s happened, but it's nothing to do with you. You stand in the road in the middle of the night, by the bloody Sunshine junction, you're going to get hit.”

“He was standing in the road because of me.”

“You're lucky you weren't hit. You definitely wouldn't have survived.”

“Can you tell me if you hear anything?” he says. “I keep checking the forums, but I might miss something. It’s not like someone would tell me”

“Why would someone tell me, Izaya?” Kine says gently. “Go and get some sleep. And for Christ's sake, call me if anyone bothers you again – cops or reporters. Got it?”

Shizuo thanks Kine, uselessly, when Izaya forgets to do so himself.

“So you do have a friend,” Shizuo sighs as they ride up in the elevator. “Why don't you ask if you can stay with him for a while?”

Izaya steps out of the lift and ignores him.

I can't wait to tell Tom about this , Shizuo thinks, then is hit with the familiar stab that he may never speak to Tom, or anyone, again.

Once Izaya is safely in bed, Shizuo goes back to his family, who are sitting around his hospital bed as usual. Shizuo studies himself. He looks the same. Someone appears to have shaved him and washed his hair.

Shizuo hangs around hopefully, like a dog who may be given a treat if someone would just notice him, until it gets too depressing, and he leaves them alone again. He tries Celty once more, with no result.

The days drift away. He goes to visit Izaya again after, for the first time, he sees his Father cry.

The informant is putting on his jacket as Shizuo arrives.

“Finally going out, huh?” Shizuo says, following him through the door. “Is it for work? I hope you'll be speaking to someone, whatever it is. Do your sisters really hate you? I don't think that's true. I remember how you used to walk them to school and pick them up. Maybe you should call them or something.”

Izaya walks with his hands in his pockets, eyes glazed, as Shizuo chatters at him. It's useless, but he hopes that Izaya may take it in on some subconscious level. It was better than leaving him alone. They approach the hustle of central Shinjuku, as the traffic lights are changing. Izaya keeps going, either because he sees a gap or he doesn't care.

The car isn't going fast, but it knocks him back a few yards while horns blare around them. Izaya grimaces, holding his hip. The car that hit him holds its back door open. It takes Shizuo a moment to realise why. Izaya staggers over and lets himself fall inside.

“Sorry, Shiki-san."

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. It's just a bump.”

Seating himself between them, Shizuo eyes the Yakuza warily, but the older man just looks concerned.

“Shall I drop you at Shinra's?”

“No, really, it's nothing.”

Shiki studies him, not looking convinced.

“How are you generally?” he asks.

Izaya looks away.

“Fine.”

“Kine told me what happened with our mutual friend.”

Izaya winces.

“I didn’t say anything about my connections. I didn't say anything.”

“I know. I'm amazed they had the gall to try something like that. We always leave each other's informants alone. It’ll create problems if we don't play by the same rules.”

This seems to be a test, judging by Shiki’s expression, but Izaya is barely listening, still massaging his hip.

“Sure you're alright?”

“Yes. Your car might have a dent though.”

“Forget the car,” Shiki says. “Listen. When are you coming back to work?”

Izaya looks uncomfortable.

“I don't know. Why? Has something come up?”

“Things are always coming up, you know that.” He pauses. “If you can spare some time, there is something we can talk about.”

“Now?”

“Yes. But not here. Somewhere more secure.”

Izaya hesitates.

“I don't think so, Shiki-san.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I – I can’t work yet. I need to wait for Shizu-chan to wake up.”

“Izaya,” he sighs, as if speaking to a child. “What difference does it make if Shizuo wakes up when you're working or if he wakes up when you're moping around? It's not like they'll let you visit him. If he even wakes up at all.”

“Thanks,” Shizuo says sarcastically, as Izaya turns his face away.

He keeps his face averted as he starts to shake.

"Oh, fuck," Shizuo groans. "Not in front of him."

Shiki hands him some tissues in silence, and leans forward to give his driver an address.

"Get out, Izaya," Shizuo tells him. "Tell him you need to go to Shinra's. Make something up."

Izaya is still crying by the time they reach Shiki's house, silently but openly. Shizuo tries to hold his hand, but he keeps moving it.

He is tense as they go into the house, but Shiki's expression is neutral. He merely sits Izaya on the leather couch and goes off to make tea. He absently takes in the size of the house, the art on the walls, the sliding doors, the high ceiling, the tasteful blend of Oriental and Western styles. He wonders if Izaya has been here before. Perhaps there is nothing to worry about after all.

“I might make some food,” Shiki calls. “You look like a stray.”

“Is this what it’s come to?” Izaya sniffs and helps himself to more tissues. “Even the Yakuza are feeling sorry for me.”

“What do you mean, ‘even the Yakuza?’” Shiki says, mock-offended. As well as tea, Shiki also brings them a real drink each, pale gold in crystal glasses. "I've been thinking," Shiki says. "Maybe it would do you good to get away for a while.”

Izaya shakes his head.

“I don’t take holidays. And what if he dies? What if he wakes up? I can't just go and lie on a beach somewhere. I have to be here.”

“I wasn't talking about a holiday.”

Izaya looks at him warily.

“I have some things to take care of in Hong Kong,” Shiki continues, watching him. “I was thinking you could join me. You can take on a few assignments there, if you want. Flexible, undemanding assignments.”

Izaya is frowning.

“You've never offered me international assignments before. You always said I'd be a nuisance.”

“Then consider yourself very lucky.”

Izaya hesitates, wavering.

“It will do you good,” Shiki encourages.

“But I can’t...”

Shizuo looks on as Shiki patiently wears him down. If Izaya were himself, Shizuo was pretty sure no-one could convince him to do anything he didn't want to do, even if it were for his own good. 

And now, Shizuo has a dilemma. He may be able to 'flit' between places like Ikebukuro and Shinjuku, but jumping between Tokyo to Hong Kong was a whole different story. He would surely kill himself if he strayed so far from his body.

But at the same time, he can't stand the thought of leaving Izaya alone, even with Shiki, especially with the informant not in his sharpest state of mind.

Shizuo decides he will risk it. He can experiment like he did in the hospital, and take care to not stay long and to check on his body as much as he can. His family and friends have each other for comfort, after all. Izaya had no-one.

-

Shiki and Izaya are staying in a huge apartment overlooking the harbour from the top floor. All of one wall is glass - in one of the bedrooms, the pillows are pushed up against the glass instead of a headboard. Just the thought of sleeping near such a drop makes him feel sick, but maybe Izaya would like it.

Izaya looks around at it all, smiling faintly. He is playing with a small remote control, which he uses to open and close the curtains, dim the lights, turn on the fire.

“Not bad,” he allows.

“I'm glad I have your approval,” Shiki drawls. “Are you hungry? There’s a wonderful seafood place near here.”

Shizuo squirms restlessly. So far, his experiments were working out, and his body seemed fine. But he doesn’t want to push it; he only wants to be here if he is ‘needed,’ if Izaya was upset or in any kind of trouble. He doesn’t want to hang around if they are just going to eat fish and talk.

He’d thought of looking around -he’s here for free, after all - but he’s noticed he’s not quite experiencing things as he normally would. It’s like a kind of myopia, where he can only see what he is focussing on, or what immediately surrounds him, while the rest is a blurred mist. He tries to remember whether it had been this way from the beginning, or if it is getting worse.

No, he doesn’t want to take any chances. He’s getting out of here. He can check on Izaya later.

Izaya is standing in front of a full length mirror now, fiddling with a maroon tie that makes his eyes pop.

“Damn, you look good in a suit,” Shizuo says. "It was kind of funny to say whatever he wanted out loud, with no consequences. "You have a nice ass. There, I said it."

Oblivious, Izaya tilts his head and yells to Shiki through the walls.

“Shiki, are the walls soundproofed?”

“From the outside, you idiot. Not internally.”

“Just wondered. You could have kept quiet, you know, just to see what I'd do."

"Not worth it. I don't want to hear the Attack on Titan theme blasting at 3 in the morning."

"How did you know I watch Attack on Titan?"

Shizuo feels a little stab of envy as they banter. Izaya would get over him, eventually. Everyone would get over him and move on with their lives. He remembers what he’d said to Izaya in his apartment. He saw his friends all the time but barely said anything important. It's not fair if I die now. I've barely got started. Never been in love. Never driven a car. Never climbed a mountain. Never been overseas, he realises, except for now, and this could hardly count.

“I’m going,” Shizuo tells Izaya, who is now checking the forums on his phone. “Have fun. Don’t drink too much.”

Shizuo goes to see Kasuka and Ruri. They are asleep on the couch, although it is only 6pm. Shizuo takes the armchair, and talks to them both. They order food when they wake up, and make an effort to talk about things other than the comatose brother. Shizuo doesn't know if this makes him feel better or worse. 

It is late by the time he's back in Hong Kong. At first he thinks they are still out; the apartment is quiet, and Izaya’s bedroom is empty. But then he hears a noise from the neighbouring bedroom, and steps through the wall to investigate.

They are up against the glass, fucking. Of course they are. Shizuo doesn’t know how he didn’t see it coming.

Shizuo backs up as if he had seen something awful, back through the walls, over the ocean and back to Ikebukuro. He drifts around the streets, ignoring the cars and the noise, undecided on where to go.

Is this why Shiki had invited him? Or had it just happened naturally over the expensive food and the drinks, with Shiki in a sympathetic mood, and Izaya’s personality less grating than usual?

Maybe Izaya had been drunk. Shizuo can’t imagine him letting his guard down in enough to get drunk here. Then again, he can’t imagine Izaya having impromptu sex with him either.

I should have stayed , he thinks bitterly.

Why? A voice fires back. What for? What could you have done, except sit there and learn how to seduce someone?

“I missed something,” he mumbles to himself, oblivious of his fellow townsmen darting past him and through him to get out of the rain. “I missed something important. They went from distance to being close and I missed it, and I don’t know if Shiki’s fucking with him or taking advantage or what. I don’t know. Be careful how you go here, the cars come out of nowhere…”

-

Shizuo returns to Hong Kong in the morning. Izaya is in bed, naked, and Shiki is heading for the shower. Neither of them appear to be hungover. 

As soon the bathroom door is shut, Izaya whips out his phone. Shizuo watches over Izaya’s shoulder as he trawls the forums and messages Shinra again.

-Any news?

The reply comes fairly quickly.

-NO. I'll tell you as soon as I hear.

Izaya sighs and slumps down the pillows. Shizuo doesn't try to talk to him this time.

Izaya stays where he is until Shiki returns, showered and dressed, sharp and healthy in contrast to a waif-ish Izaya. Shizuo watches them curiously, trying to guess at their relationship.

“Don’t stay in bed all day,” Shiki tells him, kissing him on the forehead.

“But I’m on holiday. I want to relax.”

“This isn’t relaxing. Go and do some sight-seeing.” He pauses. “Or I’ll find something for you to do.”

Izaya grumbles, but gets out of bed obligingly. Shizuo half expects him to jump back in it the minute Shiki leaves, but he showers and goes out after all. He follows the GPS on his phone through the throngs of tourists and street sellers, ignoring everything but the little red arrow on the map.

“I think you’re missing the point of sightseeing,” Shizuo tells him, trying to see the different stalls through his fog. All he could see was colour. Izaya stops once, at that is only to buy a pair of sunglasses. They are dirt cheap, knock-off designer, but could easily be mistaken for the real thing. They look good on him. Shizuo spots a pair that look exactly like his own, but better made, a cooler blue. Izaya stares at them too, fingering them for a moment. Then someone behind him coughs, so he pays and moves on.

Izaya walks for over an hour. Apparently he didn’t believe in taking public transport anywhere, not just in Tokyo. Shizuo is glad he can’t really feel his feet. Finally they reach a park. It is tail-end of winter, the flowers and trees are just springing to life, and families and couples and dogs seems to be everywhere, smiling and licking ice cream. Shizuo smiles when Izaya stops at the ice cream truck, but he only buys a bottle of water.

They walk on. Shizuo’s stomach drops when he see part of the park ends as a cliff overlooking the sea, fenced off from the childrens’ play area and dog walking paths, but to his relief, where Izaya chooses to sit is miles from danger. He checks his phone, shielding it from the sun with his hand, before replacing it in his pocket. Then he lies back on the grass and stares up into the sky.

Shizuo lies down next to him.

“I do this a lot,” he says softly. “In the little park by Sunshine. It’s nice, isn’t it? I can lie like this for hours.”

When he turns to Izaya again, the informant's eyes are closed. He slips his new sunglasses on, and his breathing evens.

“Well, you seem like you’re OK for now. I better go,” Shizuo looks nervously between Izaya and the cliffs, which now didn’t seem so far away after all. He hopes Shiki will call him to check in at some point.

He pats Izaya’s hand uselessly.

“I’ll be back later.”

-

It’s dark when he returns. Izaya is at the outskirts of the night markets now, weaving through the crowd. He somehow finds a door that doesn’t seem to be marked. Once inside, Shizuo can see why. Izaya must have googled it. Despite his circumstances, Shizuo feels a little jolt of interest - he’d never had the guts to go into one of these places before.

The informant is the is the only customer. A lone sales clerk plays a game on his iPad without looking up. Shizuo follows Izaya, who trails the video and magazine aisle idly, not really looking at anything.  Then he stops and starts fingering the different flavoured lubes.

“Honey flavoured lube?” Shizuo says. “Really? Would you even like that? Is it for Shiki?”

It was expensive, too. Did it really taste like honey?

Izaya puts the honey one down and picks up whiskey flavour instead. Then he descends further into the store, away from the windows, where its poorly lit.  Izaya pauses in front of a selection of handcuffs, fingering them wistfully.

“Really?” Shizuo says again. He watches and waits, but Izaya sighs and goes to the till with only the lube.

“You don’t trust him enough?” Shizuo says, almost smugly, as the indifferent sales clerk puts the lube in a unbranded bag.

Shiki is already in the apartment when they return, perusing an English newspaper in an armchair. Shizuo twitches with irritation when Shiki discards it and pulls Izaya into his lap

“Souvenir shopping?”

“Kind of.”

He lets Shiki fish out the lube, who chuckles.

“Cute, but you should have got something more interesting.”

“I didn’t know what you’d like.”

“I like most things.”

Shizuo turns away as they kiss. He suddenly remembers it’s been a while since he checked on Tom.

-

They are done by the time Shizuo returns. For Shizuo does return - he is determined to keep checking on Izaya even if it was outright masochism. Izaya is asleep in Shiki’s bed. The window is steamed from their exertions.

This suddenly makes him furious for some reason. Maybe it was all perfectly innocent, but Shizuo doesn’t think so. In fact, he thinks it’s pretty pathetic to take someone away and fuck them when they are so obviously not themselves.

“You fucking asshole,” Shizuo says.

Shiki is halfway to sleep himself, his eyes drooping, but he bolts upright then, blinking in Shizuo’s direction.

Shizuo gapes back in amazement.

“Shiki? Can you hear me?”

But Shiki is already chuckling to himself. He relaxes once more and kisses Izaya's hair, curling round him, and doesn’t look up again. After a moment he turns down the lamps with the remote.

Shizuo sighs. Maybe not.

He wants to yell at Shiki again, just in case, but his heart’s not in it. Seeing them curled around like that just makes him depressed. Maybe they'd stay together now. And Shizuo would never have a such a relationship, never have kids, never buy a house, never go to Hong Kong for real, or anywhere for that matter. He’d never ask Izaya what the hell was going on in his head.

He feels strange then. He blinks and puts his hand out, but it slides through the wall uselessly. 

“Oh, shit,” he says, as fog begins to smother him. “Izaya? Fuck, what's happening-?”

He’s so stupid. The distance was obviously too much for his body to cope with, and now he's dying for it.

-

He’s in hospital again. It takes him a moment to figure out what’s different - the angle’s changed. He’s looking up this time, not down on himself. The smell of cleaning hits him harder than usual - that and warm laundered sheets and cold tea. Something is stinging in his arm. He looks down and sees it is a drip. His lips are dry when he opens his mouth. He looks up and past his family's wild eyes and sees no other version of himself.

“I’m here?” he croaks. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, darling,” his mother whispers. She strokes his hair. “Is something wrong with your hearing? Can you hear us?”

“Yes. I…” he reaches out to touch each of them in turn, staring at his own hands as they make contact. His eyes fill.

A nurse bustles in, Keiko, the one who always looked after him no matter what day and time Shizuo showed up, and appeared to never sleep.

“He may be confused for a little why, after the severity of this kind of head trauma,” the nurse his family sympathetically. “But don’t worry, the worst is over.” Then she smiles at Shizuo for the first time. “Welcome back, Heiwajima-san.”

-

He’s so weak. It’s as if he’s just been born. Even simple conversation tires him out. But he’s strong enough and coherent enough to know what he wants. He waits until his parents are off collecting him some fresh clothes.

“Kasuka?”

Kasuka lowers his magazine.

“You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I need to see Izaya.”

“Izaya,” Kasuka says slowly.

“Yes,” Shizuo says. “I can't explain. I'll give you his number. Tell him the visiting hours and tell him to come. Don’t let our parents get in the way.”

Kasuka is staring at him.

“It’s not to fight,” Shizuo says. “I promise there won’t be a fight."

"But why did you need to see him? Can't it wait?"

"He’s been upset. He needs to see I’m OK.”

“How do you know, Shizuo?” Kasuka says, staring at him intently. “You’ve been with us all the time. You don’t have your phone.”

“Please, Kasuka, just trust me.”

-

Shiki watches Izaya tear through his belongings, packing haphazardly, half convinced he has lost his passport. 

“Izaya,” Shiki says with infinite patience. “Just wait a minute -”

“I can’t, I’m going to try and make the 7:15 flight.” He pauses then and throws Shiki a guilty look. “I’m sorry, Shiki, really. But I have to go.”

“Just think, Izaya,” Shiki says, exasperated. “They’re not going to let you see him. Even Shinra won’t be allowed to see him. It'll be family only at this stage, and then they'll probably keep him in for weeks. What do you plan to do, sneak in? If you piss him off now the shock really could kill him.”

“Oh no, I’m not going to see him,” Izaya says. “I’m not going to go near him. I'm probably avoid him even when he does get out, just in case."

“Then what are you going for?” Shiki catches hold of Izaya's hand as he reaches for his phone. “You won’t be able to see him, you won’t have anyone to talk to - what are you going to do? Just hang around and wait like a dog?”

“Why are you so upset, Shiki-san?” Izaya snaps, with some of his old bite, as he pulls his hand free. “I didn’t think you’d have any trouble getting yourself some ass.”

“That’s not fair, Izaya.”

Izaya wavers, looking guilty.

“Sorry,” he says eventually. “But I'm still going.”

“Do you have any idea how much it’ll cost to buy a same day flight?”

“That’s what savings are for.”

He takes his phone and starts jabbing at it.

Shiki plucks the phone out of his hand and takes out his own credit card.

“I’ll pay for your flight.”

“But -”

Shiki waves him off. “You didn't want to come and I made you. So I’ll pay for your flight.”

“But Shiki -”

“Finish your packing. I’ll get us a ride to the airport.”

“You’re coming?”

“I’m seeing you off. You’ll probably get run over if you go out on your own.”

They travel to the airport together in a not exactly friendly silence, but Izaya can’t quite bring himself to care. 

At the departure gates, Izaya looks at Shiki guiltily.

“It’s OK,” Shiki says, and means it. “Go. Watch the bloody roads when you get back.”

“Yes.”

He gives Shiki a quick, fumbled hug. For a moment he’s grateful, and awkward, and sad, but as soon as he’s through the gates he forgets all about Shiki.

He gets a call from a private number but ignores it. It can’t be important.

-

Kasuka finds Izaya in the hospital reception, looking a little out of it, with a carry-on suitcase under his chair. It takes the younger Heiwakima a moment to recognise him - he'd almost mistook him for an out-patient, he was so pale.

“Orihara-san. You got my message?”

Izaya starts and blinks up at him.

“Kasuka?” he says in surprise. “How’s Shizuo?”

“He’s ready to see you.”

“See me?”

Kasuka frowns.

“You didn't get my message?”

“Message? Oh, I’ve been in Hong Kong. I haven't checked voicemails. Is Shizuo OK?"

Kasuka is about to ask him what he’s doing here if he hadn’t got the message, but decides not to bother.

“Shizuo wants to see you.”

“He does?”

“I’m as surprised as you are. But he’s insisting on it.” He eyes Izaya warily. “And I don’t want you to upset him.”

“I won’t.” He still looks puzzled. “Are you sure it’s OK for me to see him?”

“He’ll be fine, I’ll be there too. We can make it short.”

-

Shizuo stares at Izaya, his vision swimming.

“Hi.” That’s really his voice, talking to him.

Izaya glances at Kasuka uncertainty, who is poker-faced. He turns back to Shizuo.

“I’ve got something for you.” He bends down and digs through his messy suitcase, feeling Kasuka tense behind him. “Here.” He puts the airport gift-shop sweets beside Shizuo’s bed. “I was in Hong Kong.”

“I know.”

Izaya frowns.

“How could you know?”

Shizuo doesn’t reply. Sometimes staying awake was hard, and now was clearly one of those moments.

“Are you tired?” Izaya’s voice comes as if from a long distance. “I can come back.”

“Yes, I need you to come back...Kasuka, you have to let him…”

Izaya and Kasuka look at each other as he slips into sleep.

“He’s still not himself,” Kasuka says, shaking his head. “Please don’t come here again.”

“OK,” Izaya agrees.“I hope he likes the sweets. They’re not poisoned, I promise.”

-

Shizuo’s glad he stopped Kasuka from throwing the Hong Kong sweets out - not only because they were really good, but because it was proof that Izaya really had been in Hong Kong, that he wasn't completely crazy. 

“Why didn’t you let him stay longer?” he says to Kasuka. “I needed to talk to him.”

“You fell asleep,” Kasuka points out. “What do you need to talk to him about so badly?”

“I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t make any sense. Can you tell him to come back?”

“He said he won’t come again. Anyway, there’s no rush, now you’re getting better. You’ve got all the time in the world to bicker with him.”

Shizuo is not listening. He is staring at the chocolate box with an image of Hong Kong’s harbour, exactly as he remembered it.

-

Soon Shizuo is well enough to demand his phone back from his fussing family, walk down to the lobby and call Izaya by himself.

“How did you know I was in Hong Kong?” Izaya says at once.

“Come and see me again and I’ll tell you.”

“When?”

“Come at 4. Don’t be late. I don’t want my brother to come in.”

-

Izaya stares at him curiously when they are alone, like Shizuo is an animal in the zoo. Shizuo stares back, trying to find a glimpse of the man he’d seen crying on Shiki’s couch, throwing up after drinking too much and staring into space for days on end. Izaya looks slightly thinner, slightly paler, but otherwise as hard and unruffled as ever.

“Don’t faint on me this time,” Izaya says. “I've already been in trouble over your little mishap.”

The change, the nastiness in his tone, is so sudden it's hard to take in.

“I know," Shizuo says, when he's recovered. "I'm gonna explain everything now. But you have to bear with me till the end, and not interrupt or walk out. Because it sounds nuts.”

Izaya listens. He goes very still when Shizuo describes the police station, Kine’s intervention and Shiki, but he does not interrupt, and he doesn’t leave. His head is down when Shizuo finishes.

“It’s not really that strange in this town,” Shizuo offers, when the silence gets too much. “When you think about Celty and the vampires and all the other stuff.”

“Yes,” Izaya concedes. He looks up at last, but his face is inscrutable. “Did you spy on anyone else?”

“I wasn’t spying,” Shizuo says, stung. “I spent most of my time with my family.”

“It must have been fun though. See anything interesting?”

Shizuo frowns, not liking his tone, but he tries to make light of it.

“Yeah, I saw you have scented candles in your bathroom.”

Izaya snorts.

“An opportunity like that and you spend it in my bathroom? You’re such a pervert, Shizu-chan. I should have known.”

“Why are you being like this?” Shizuo snaps. “You were upset, you've been upset all this time and now I’m here and I’m talking to you and you’re just- it’s just the same as always. Why? What's up with you?”

“You shouldn’t have spied on me," he snaps back, with surprising venom. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Whatever you got out of it, you shouldn't have done it."

“I didn’t 'get anything out of it',” Shizuo says heatedly. “I didn’t want to leave you on your own."

“You were snooping."

“Which parts are you most upset about?" he says, exasperated. "The police station or Shiki or what?”

“All of it,” Izaya snaps. “All of my life is terrible, so I don’t like the idea of you seeing any of it.”

“So why don’t you change it?”

Izaya throws him a dirty look.

“What, you’ve had a near death experience so now you’re born again? Are you going to become religious and change the world? Are you -”

Shizuo kisses him while he is still talking. 

“None of that,” Shizuo says to a stunned Izaya. “I’m just going to pay more attention to what’s going on around me. I’m going to pay more attention to you.”

“I...you...you don’t -”

“And it wasn’t your fault, by the way."

Izaya goes still. Then he forces a laugh.

“Maybe next time.”

“You are so full of shit, Izaya-kun.”

He smiles at the old nickname.

“Get well soon, Shizu-chan. I want to see you try and throw that hospital bed at me.”

Shizuo smiles. He reaches out and covers Izaya's hand with his own. Finally, after attempting this over and over and feeling nothing, the ability to simply hold someone's hand was wonderful. Izaya tenses, but Shizuo hangs on and doesn't let him pull away.

His mother walks in then, hot chocolate in hand, and they jolt apart like teenagers who’d been caught making out.

“Sorry,” Izaya says quickly.

“I invited him,” Shizuo adds.

There's an awkward little silence. 

Before she can react, Izaya makes his excuses and bolts.

“I really did invite him. He was upset."

She shakes her head in amusement.

“Well, it's about time!”

Chapter Text

Izaya freezes in the middle of his frantic packing. Shiki watches him, fingers hovered over his phone.

“Changed your mind?”

Izaya looks at him as though seeing him for the first time.

“Well...have you already paid?”

“No.”

Izaya smiles at him. “I guess I have then.” He turns and starts unpacking his case.

Shiki glances at the ‘payment successful’ screen under his thumb, and proceeds to open Izaya’s email tab and delete the booking confirmation, delete it from the trashcan and then to log out of the website. He hands Izaya’s phone back to him with a smile.

“We should celebrate.”

-

“Thank you for staying," Shiki says, later on, in bed, when they had made love facing each other and Izaya had kept his eyes open.

“I should be thanking you for bringing me.”

“You didn’t want to come.”

Izaya looks at him helplessly.

“But never mind. You’re here now.”

-

Izaya stays up to date on the forums - though not as obsessively - but it is Shizuo who finally calls him. Izaya stares at his phone as if a ghost had called him. He answers tentatively.

“Shizuo?”

“Hi, flea.” It hurts to hear his voice, despite everything. Izaya wants to both slam the phone down and cling to it. “Are you OK?”

Izaya forces a laugh. “...if I were a nicer person I’d be asking you.”

“I’m OK,” Shizuo says. “I’m getting out of hospital tomorrow.”

“I see," he says. He thinks for a minute. "I suppose I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Shizuo snorts. “You are so full of shit, flea.”

“Maybe. But I have some good news for you. I'm not in Ikebukuro. I'm thousands of miles away, in fact.”

Shizuo starts to say something and stops himself. Instead he says, “Do you know when you’re coming back?”

Izaya glances to the other room at Shiki, who is making dinner reservations.

“Nope,” he says. “No idea.”

“Well, I hope you’re OK.”

“I think Shizu-chan is a little brain-damaged. More than usual, anyway.”

Amazingly, Shizuo doesn't blow his top. He actually laughs. “I know you were worried about me. I know you’ve been sad.”

Izaya chokes out a laugh of his own. “Oh, it’s worse than brain damage! It’s -”

“Izaya.” Shizuo's voice cuts easily through his, eerily calm. “It’s OK. Something weird happened when I was in the coma. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. But anyway, I’m all right and - I hope you are too. You can call me any time if you want to.”

Izaya frowns, trying to understand.

“Weird how?”

“Well, I know you’re in Hong Kong.”

“No I'm not. I’m in Italy.”

“Italy? But you were in Hong Kong, weren't you? With Shiki?”

“Yes. We flew here from Hong Kong. How did you know that?”

“Don't worry about it," Shizuo says, irritatingly. "But, like I said, call me any time if you need to."

Izaya shakes his head. For the first time in years he thinks he might be happy, and he refuses to let supernatural nonsense in Ikebukuro spoil it. He doesn't want to think about Shizuo.

"Fine, but you better watch what you say, Shizu-chan. The Yakuza don't appreciate being spied on."

Shizuo laughs softly.

"Sure, flea."

"Shizuo," he blurts.

"Yes?"

"Are you - are you all right?"

"Yes," he says. "Definitely."

"OK."

He hangs up, and joins Shiki in the kitchen.