Because goodbyes are never easy. Even for them.
It was.. Such a hard thing to describe.. How you felt, watching someone you loved.. Die. Dying. The same thing? Some might say it was. How could anyone hope to understand when you didn't even understand yourself? Maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe some people understand perfectly. He didn't.
Standing there, in that small, white walled room that smelled just a little too strongly of disinfectant, Shizuo wasn't quite sure what he felt. How he should feel. He was vaguely aware of a pain in his chest, causing his throat to constrict and his eyes to sting, threatening to make itself known in the form of glistening teardrops. He had dressed in his usual outfit, shades and all, even though these were know tucked safely in his pocket so as not to obstruct his view of the sleeping man lying in the bed before him; dark brown hair strewn messily across his pillow and crimson eyes closed, soon to be closed forever. He hadn't wanted anything to appear out of place, hadn't wanted to make any extra effort just because this could be the last time he would ever see the informant alive again. His rival. His friend. His lover.
He sank heavily onto the pristine white sheets next to Izaya, a hand moving to touch silky brown hair, stroking it as he had before this had happened. Before Izaya had been diagnosed with this disease. It had been six months since then, six months that hasn't done anything to ease his suffering, and six months of pain for the brunette. Golden eyes drifted over the slender form beneath the sterile sheets, half the size he had once been, his pitiful shape barely the size of a child's. Perhaps the worst thing about his appearance now however was that he was still as handsome as he had once been, despite his previously pale but now porcelain skin, his too slim face and the purple hue of his eyelids.
They flickered open beneath his gaze, revealing sleepy crimson eyes that burned into his own. A smile lit the informant s face upon recognising the blonde, making Shizuo's chest tighten further, causing his heart to almost stop beating. "Shizu-Chan. You came to see me." Light words. Care-free. Happy even. A gentle smile changed the blonde's solemn expression as he moved his fingers from Izaya's hair to caress his cheek lightly, causing the other to lean into his touch. "I said I would didn't I?" His words, unlike they would have been years ago, were untainted by any underlying insults, replaced with a soft gentle intonation that much better suited his character. Shizuo hated violence after all. "You did." The unnecessary confermation was somewhat breathless and the dark haired man closed his eyes once again, long lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the faint beeping noise of the heart monitor and the sound of rain hitting off the glass of the window, through which the lights of the dark city were just visible beyond the rivulets of water blurring the familiar scene. "Shizu-Chan?" "What is it?" Eyes softening, he brushed away a few stray strands from the informant's eyes. "Stay with me." And without hesitation, "Of course." It was quiet then, the words neither could say, even after all this time, lingering unspoken in the air. I love you.
Breathing slowed. Time seemed to come to a standstill. The scene seemed to imprint itself behind his eyes, the last moments framed forever in his head just before the heart monitor accelerated, calling out frantically as the dark haired man's pulse skyrocketed, doctors and surgeons alike flooding the room in a desperate attempt to save the informant, to preserve the last spark of life that had been slowly diminishing in his feeble chest. Everything became blurred. Distant. The sounds penetrating his brain became muffled and distorted. He was vaguely aware that the panic had ceased and was replaced by a horrible stillness. Even the monitor had ceased it's pleaful lamentations and had settled on a single monotonous note. Casting one last look at Izaya's peaceful face, Shizuo stepped calmly out of the room, removing his shades from his pocket and placing them over his eyes. His hands were stuffed casually in his pockets as he walked down the bright corridor and through the reception and the front doors, which slid back automatically to allow him access out of the hospital and into the rain soaked city. It took him very little time to get to Izaya's apartment. Fifteen minutes perhaps, although by now he had stopped noticing the passing of time, or the weight of his clothes as rain clung them to his icy skin.
He removed the spare key from his pocket to unlock the door, stepping inside and shutting it once more behind him. It fell into place with a final click. Shizuo allowed his eyes to survey the room. It was exactly as he had last seen it, paperwork stacked on the desk never to be looked through, swivel chair abandoned behind it, turned in such a way that it appeared someone had just abandoned it a moment to retrieve something perhaps, although in reality it was never to be occupied by it's owner again. He wondered what would happen to it gnow. Would it be sold? Claimed by family? He didn't know. Did it matter? Maybe. For the sake of easing his mind, he sat in it himself, swivelling around to face the city. It still smelled like Izaya. Like cinnamon. Because as cold as the informant could seem, there had still been something warm inside of him. Memories came flooding back as he sat there, hands still in his pockets and shades still concealing his golden eyes, now flooded with tears. Memories of Izaya, of this apartment, of their life together. Memories of the fights they'd fought in the streets of Ikebukuro, the arguments they'd still had up until tonight, the nights they'd spent curled up on the couch watching movies, kisses in the rain, walks in the city at night, hugs they had shared, Izaya's face when he woke up in the morning, Izaya'a concentrated expression when he was working, Izaya's laughter when Shizuo made a joke he could appreciated, Izaya's eyes in the darkness when they smouldered with passion, Izaya, Izaya, Izaya, Izaya. Tears streamed down the blonde's face. Golden eyes gazed out over the city one last time before they closed. One hand reached up to remove his shades and replace them in his pocket, the other producing a vial full of a dark black liquid. A smile graced Shizuo's lips once more, the image of Izaya's face imprinted behind his eyes as he uncorked the vial. Although even now, he couldn't say those words. But now he didn't need to. There was no one to hear them. The vial raised to his lips, poison passing from the glass to his mouth as in his mind, he thought those words again. Izaya, I love you.
Authors note: Thank you for reading! Reviews? No flames please, although I guess that's up to you.