chapter one: the last human on earth

april 28, 10:42 p.m.

Izaya remembered the last time he threw up.

Yagiri Namie had prepared dinner and decided to add an absurd amount of sugar to the dish. A truly absurd amount, not an amount he'd be all right with, an amount that the recipe may have called for, but more than enough sugar to make him reel, unable to conceal his disgust. Namie seemed pleased when he stood immediately and rushed to the bathroom.

He remembered the day clearly. It was about mid-April and late at night, just about a year ago. He'd come home from a business meeting gone long, the fur of his coat holding droplets of rain from drizzle. He had called her name in his normal teasing manner, pleased that she was still there, knowing that it made her angry.

He loved it when she was annoyed at him.

Izaya barely managed to wait until the door slammed shut before vomiting into the toilet, holding himself and feeling like he was going to die. His insides felt like they were being turned out and he couldn't stop coughing. This was probably worse than straight up arsenic poisoning. But, of course, Namie wouldn't do that; she still needed to get paid.

That damn woman.

Izaya remembered shuddering, his core muscles aching as the taste of sickly sweet curry rose back up his throat. Tears were in his eyes and he felt like he couldn't breathe. His knees hurt from pressing to the bathroom floor, separated from tiles only by a rather thin mat. Looking at the contents only made it worse; Izaya kept his eyes shut but kept gagging; it was absolutely disgusting and he made a note to never, ever eat the woman's cooking until he saw her take a bite first. The overall sensation was extremely unpleasant and he had to take a few minutes to collect himself, rinse the taste out of his mouth before going back outside, glaring coldly at the smug woman.

"You realize you're not getting paid this month, right?" he asked, tried to act as if he were fine, despite his eyes still slightly red. His gaze rested upon the dish and he scowled, walking over to his desk instead. All appetite had been lost.

He heard a laugh from her.

"You've already docked almost all of it. I have nothing to lose."

That was the last time he'd thrown up and it was awful. It left him feeling unsettled for days (he didn't vomit often, but when he did, it was terrible) and coffee was just about the only thing he trusted to consume. He was weak and the smell of most foods made him gag. He remembered it clearly, how he'd made Namie's life his own version of a living hell. It was something he could never forget, something that he thought he'd never want to relive.

He would rather go through again than be in his current situation.

Swearing, Orihara Izaya straightened, an arm still across his stomach. His other arm was to the nearby wall as he tried to steady himself, head still feeling as if spinning a bit. He winced as he stared at the puddle of his regurgitation on the ground and turned away, deciding to leave it be. Swallowing thickly, Izaya took a breath; the sour aftertaste lingered and he was only reminded of that April night, actually finding himself wishing for that vile woman's company. He heard moans outside and ignored them; as long as he was quiet and he didn't let those things know he was in here, he'd be fine.

For now.

Just remembering them sent chills down the man's spine; those things, those absolutely atrocious, disgusting, awful things. They'd ruined what he held most dear and seeing them had his blood curdling in ways that could only be compared to how he felt upon seeing Heiwajima Shizuo.

Abominable.

Staggering from the entrance hall, Izaya looked around. He had snuck his way into a small apartment in a slightly run-down looking; Izaya had managed to stay hidden for a while in his own apartment, thinking that it would all blow over, but it had come to the point where if he wasn't moving, he was waiting to be killed. April 23rd. That was the day it all went to hell. He'd woken up and promptly had his day ruined because of those things that were overtaking the city. He focused on survival and, knowing the city so well, he was able to navigate. But he was careful to not attract attention to himself. Stealthy and quick as he was, he'd be no match for a horde of those things finding him and Orihara Izaya was not about to become one of them.

Those things were abhorrent.

He had gone from residence to residence, stopping by grocery markets to stock up on food. With most of the city dead and almost a week later, it was nearly empty; Izaya didn't even have to worry about finding food because he'd find what he needed. Most places still had water and some still had electricity. At one point, he actually cooked for himself, being that bored.

He had his phone on him, the one whose number the people who didn't want him dead had, but he hadn't received any texts. In his hurry to bring only what he absolutely needed from his apartment, it took him just a moment to grab this one and destroy all others by bringing his heel down on them. With most of the city infected or in hiding, Izaya didn't see any reason for his other phones. But, at the same time, he didn't need someone possibly snooping around and finding them.

And any number that was important he obviously had memorized.

The first person he thought of upon grabbing the phone was Shinra; the doctor was probably his best chance to find a cure. Maybe even Namie, with her medical background; despite their obvious distaste for each other, Izaya was sure that the prospect of being turned into a zombie was enough for her to try tolerating him and vice versa. But he hadn't heard from either of them and he never did have the habit of texting first.

The only person he did text first, he didn't really want to see.

The only person he did text first, he hoped was dead.

Grabbing a backpack, the man immediately headed into the kitchen after taking his phone charger out and putting it in. He'd run out of the food he'd brought along quickly; it was one of the reasons he found someone else's home to raid. It was pure luck that the kitchen was relatively well stocked, bottles of water plentiful. He rummaged the drawers and cabinets, found anything he could bring, both food and medical supplies. Izaya put them into his backpack and made sure it wasn't so heavy that he wouldn't be able to run if needed.

The taste of vomit was still fresh on his tongue and he turned on the faucet. Cupped hands filled with water and he brought them up to his mouth, rinsing until the taste was gone before drinking as much as he could. He straightened once his throat didn't ache anymore and the sour taste was gone. The back of his hand dragged across his lips as he looked around; it was night and he figured that dawn would be the best time to move, giving him a few hours to rest properly.

Izaya didn't know who lived here before him and he also didn't know if they were dead, undead, or alive and hiding. But he saw family portraits lining the walls: a mother, a father, and a daughter. They seemed like ordinary people and for that reason, Izaya had a feeling they were either dead or infected.

How unfortunate.

He had heard screams yesterday. More screams, louder than he'd ever thought he would. It was hardly to believe that on April 28, Ikebukuro was as it always was, and then April 29, it all went to hell. Even Izaya had a hard time grasping how quickly it was, how a few zombies turned into a multitude, how suddenly, without warning the world as they knew it was gone.

Making his way back to the living room, he set the backpack down and collapsed onto the couch. The moaning had stopped and he assumed that those wretched monsters had moved on. They were stupid, really. Violent and animalistic, but ultimately stupid. As long as he could put a bullet through their brain, they'd die. It was a simple concept but Izaya had only one gun and six bullets; he wouldn't last that long in a mob. A single bite would infect him, a single scratch would too. He'd die. Worse yet, he'd die and come back as a monster.

A vibrating feeling against his thigh almost didn't register at first; he had dismissed it as his imagination. But it happened again and Izaya immediately reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, more relieved than he'd care to admit at receiving a text. Sitting up a bit, his thumb swiped across the screen to unlock it, eyes scanning the message greedily.

You're alive, right?

Shinra

Heart racing, Izaya took a moment to collect himself. He refused to admit he was scared but in this situation, it would certainly help to have someone else by his side and Shinra and Celty probably felt the same way. Even Orihara Izaya's façade couldn't last permanently, not in the situation of a zombie apocalypse. He felt alone, he was alone, and isolation had never felt so terrifying.

Reading the message again as if confirming it was real, he felt a sudden lurch in his stomach to see that the message had been sent days ago ago. He glanced at the signal and frowned; maybe he'd been in an area with terrible reception. It wouldn't surprise him.

It had only been a five days, so he hoped that it wasn't too late.

He sent back a simple and concise text.

Of course.

Izaya

Eyes closing, he leaned back against the couch again, holding the phone in his hand. There were more of those things than he could count; at first it had been just a few, but those things were vicious. They bit and scratched at people and although they were put down, no one realized that the virus was infectious until it was too late. It started at the hospital, he had heard. And then they overtook it and spread, attacking everyone. The lucky ones died and stayed dead. The unlucky ones didn't.

What separated them was that the lucky ones were dead because of a bullet or knife to the brain.

There was a fever that killed them before they came back as the undead, decaying and rotting, moaning and limping with glassy looks in their eyes and reeking of death. The smell itself was enough to make most people want to throw up, as if their appearances weren't terrifying enough. They dragged their feet through the streets, guts spilling from wounds and blood worn as lipstick.

Izaya had snuck out of his office early that afternoon before it was too late. Living in a high-rise apartment, he knew that if he'd waited until they had gotten to his building, Orihara Izaya would be nothing more than blood splatter on the concrete right now. He knew the underground like the back of his hand, trusted that the stench would conceal his scent of being alive and, essentially, fresh meat. He had a single loaded gun and took it with him; he wasn't particularly willing to use it, but would, if it came down to it.

He had never used a gun. Handled one, yes. All the time. He knew models and types, knew which was the most appropriate for who, for what. But pulling the trigger was something he'd never done before. He'd felt the weight, the cool metal in his hand. He'd even waved it around, playfully mimicked the sound it would make if he were to shoot it, pointed it at something arbitrarily. Like a child with a toy.

But even fully loaded, Izaya had never actually used it or even thought about it. Because for one thing, Orihara Izaya loved his humans—why would he kill them? And another: if he were to kill them, why in such a cold, impersonal, quick fashion?

Ridiculous.

But this wasn't about others. This was about himself. Between trying to shoot his way out of a mob and just taking his own life to avoid being turned into one of them, he'd shoot his brains out immediately. The thought had Izaya's lips in a delicate frown; death wasn't his plan and death wasn't his intention. But those things, those zombies hung in a balance between death and life and certainly weren't immortal. He wanted to be a god, not a monster.

Izaya was afraid of death but even death would be better than this.

Feeling another buzz, Izaya looked down to his phone and straightened up.

Celty and I are hiding in the old abandoned warehouse we went to during middle school. We'll wait for you.

Shinra

It was odd for Shinra to text without something stupid to say and in such concise sentences. But Izaya understood why; he texted back that he'd be there within twenty four hours and closed his phone. He should start saving battery, he thought dryly; though he had his charger, it would only be a matter of time until there was no more electricity. Maybe a walkie-talkie would be better. He'd talk to Shinra about that.

Shinra and Celty were alive. Of course they were, Izaya thought dryly. He wasn't sure how effective Celty's shadows were, but they would definitely at least be enough to deter them. And being with them would help him; Celty could protect them and Shinra had medical training. As for what Izaya could do to benefit them was a mystery, but he didn't linger on that too much.

The city had looked nearly dead; bodies were scattered everywhere and there were only a few that staggered around. The air was heavy with death, air pungent. Walking along the streets was terrifying; it was either deathly silent or full of moans.

It was, he thought dryly, like a video game. Except, at the same time, it wasn't.

In a video game, if he died, he could restart.

In real life, if he died, he was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

april 29, 5:13 a.m.

Hours passed and he'd even fallen asleep for a bit, knowing he needed his energy. Izaya was used to surviving on few hours of sleep; his body had been programmed to be able to do so. He woke up around five and immediately became alert, splashing his face with water and taking a few more gulps. Holding the gun in his hand, he made his way down the stairs of the front porch, surveying the street before leaving; it was clear, he was relieved to see, and stepped outside.

He was still cautious; his steps quickened after the first few, once he made sure there weren't zombies hiding (were they even smart enough for that?) and kept his footsteps as silent as possible. Years of training had him moving smoothly and silently; parkour, he was glad to know, didn't only save him from Shizuo.

The thought of Shizuo had Izaya frowning. Of all the people who were either dead or converted, Izaya sincerely hoped that Shizuo was the former.

He was a monster anyway; being an undead would be the only difference. Izaya did wonder if Shizuo was even capable of becoming infected, but he was sure that he was. Shizuo wasn't superhuman. His strength was entirely human, just without limitations. He didn't have a godly immune system or impenetrable skin. Even Shizuo could fall to them. The only problem was that he would be an absolute nuisance to deal with if he were a zombie. Izaya vaguely wondered if a bullet would even be able to go through that thick skull of his.

Izaya hoped he was dead.

The shuffling of something against the pavement besides his own feet had Izaya stiffening. He spun around immediately, gun held with both hands steadying it and aiming. It took him a moment to realize the sound was just the wind carrying some pieces of garbage along the pavement and he relaxed, wondering if perhaps he was a bit too paranoid. He almost even gave a smirk. Turning back around, Izaya was greeted with a familiar face—save the decaying flesh and purplish-blue skin.

He swore.

"Shit-!"

The thing lunged at him and his head hit the ground, leaving him disoriented for just a moment. Ghastly colored hands grasped at his arms and pinned him down, the backpack having fallen a bit away from him. Izaya immediately turned away, repulsed by the stench that emanated from him. He struggled just enough that the zombie couldn't simply take a bite of him and red eyes looked at him one more time to be able to place the face:

Yagiri Seiji.

Of course the idiot was stupid enough to get bitten… Ah… speaking of him… never mind.

He had more pressing concerns than to wonder where the only woman to make him throw up was. His hand felt around the ground until he found the gun. Fingers coaxed it closer until he could grab it and Izaya didn't hesitate a single moment in his next few movements. He kicked at Seiji's stomach and sent him flying back from surprise; Sitting up and raising the gun, he pulled the trigger and watching as blood splattered from the wound. It was only after it had all happened that Izaya's nerves caught up to him and he was shaking, hand lowering to the ground as he stared, feeling his throat grow dry.

He had been protecting himself and adrenaline kept him from realizing what he was going to do. But now that he had done it and was no longer in that immediate danger, his mind was clearing up and he was very, very aware of what he had just done.

He had never killed someone before. Never directly, never like this; he'd never been the one to pull the trigger. Izaya never thought that the feeling would leave him so shaken. Despite it being fast, quick, not human and not personal, Izaya still couldn't stop seeing the blood splatter and hearing the ringing in his ears. It replayed in his mind over and over again, the vision of Seiji-zombie being shot and falling, that louder-than-anticipated noise, that kickback of the weapon.

He leaned over and vomited for the second time in twelve hours.

Staggering to his feet afterwards, Izaya immediately grabbed the backpack and slung it on, coughing and clearing his throat. His first few steps were a bit uneven and he couldn't take his eyes off of the dead body. Stupid or not, zombie or not, Yagiri Seiji had been a human at one point and he was turned into this. His hair was matted with blood and a single red wound was in the middle of his forehead.

At least I have good aim, Izaya thought dryly. Staring too long made him feel nauseous again and he winced, looking away.

"Aah… can't go and throw up again…"

Giving a shaky sigh, Izaya turned, about to continue walking. But he heard moans and stiffened again, immediately regretting using the gun. The sound had obviously drawn attention and now he found himself staring at five of them, their eyes already feasting on his flesh. Izaya's blood felt cold and he took a step back, didn't even look down to know why the ground felt slippery. Swallowing thickly, Izaya made a quick calculation:

Five of them.

One of him.

Five bullets.

He'd only need one.

Raising the gun to the soft flesh under his chin, Izaya's eyes closed. He had already talked himself into it and his movements were robotic. He'd assessed the situation and knew that this was the right thing to do; it would be better to be dead than be something like them, something even worse than Shizuo.

He did it out of reflex and was entirely ready to accept his fate. Of all the ways for Izaya to die, of all the people to kill Izaya, he never imagined that it would be by his own hand, by his own gun. Swallowing thickly, Izaya tilted his head back a little for easier access and gave a breath, preparing to squeeze his finger.

Goodbye.

"The fuck are you doin', you damn louse?!"

A sudden yell stilled Izaya. And if that wasn't enough, the hand grabbing his arm and yanking the gun away certainly was. Red eyes fluttered open to see blond hair, a bartender uniform, and blue sunglasses. The person hadn't stopped; he'd just grabbed Izaya and started sprinting and Izaya barely managed to keep up as his brain tried to process what was happening.

…No way…

"Just come with me! Your legs still work, right?! Jesus fuck, you just keep doing stupid shit, don't you?!"

…Shizu-chan.

Izaya found himself having to sprint almost faster than what his legs allowed; they were long, but Shizuo's were longer. And even if speed was Izaya's specialty, Shizuo had a longer stride and adrenaline. Izaya's legs moved so quickly and he dryly worried about them being dislocated from his hips, deciding after a moment to do everything to keep that from happening. Knowing the zombies were behind them was the only reason Izaya had pulled himself together quickly; he pushed away the fact that he was about to kill himself just moments prior and focused on running, keeping up with Shizuo as best he could.

Shizuo's hand on his arm was probably the main reason he didn't fall behind; Izaya was slightly (and twistedly) amused to see that Shizuo could kill those zombies just by grabbing their heads and smashing them to the nearest wall. He did it in a very Shizuo-ish fashion: angrily and full of swears.

They made several turns and Izaya was relieved when they began slowing down, the zombies lessening in number, lungs burning. Any 'where are we?' questions from Izaya were ignored and all he could do was obediently follow Shizuo. He looked around; they were in a more run-down area, the kind of area where drug deals would go down, where dead bodies would be found. Izaya almost wasn't paying attention when Shizuo stopped walking and opened a door. Wordlessly, Shizuo nearly threw him in, not even offering a gruff apology at Izaya's swear. He barricaded the door with long wooden boards by putting them through the handles, following with a padlock and chain.

It was dark and damp but Izaya saw signs of habitation: a thin blanket, a makeshift pillow, empty wrappers and bottles of water. He shifted slightly and turned the safety back on the gun, putting it in his backpack. His muscles were beginning to feel the strain he had put on them and his lungs were still aching as they tried to get the oxygen they had been deprived of. Trying to steady his breathing first, Izaya leaned against a wall and closed his eyes, hand massaging where Shizuo had grabbed him, fully expecting purple and blue bruises for when he'd pull his sleeve up.

Shizuo was panting, he could hear. He was swearing and mumbling under his breath, emptying out his pockets and putting his sunglasses down. Izaya's eyes opened to watch a bag of food be thrown onto the ground; he hadn't even noticed that earlier, he thought distantly. That was why Shizu-chan was there at that moment…

A thin eyebrow arched and once a few minutes had passed, they raised to look at him.

"…So Shizu-chan's alive," he prompted.

Shizuo turned and glared. "What the fuck were you doin' back there?!"

Izaya gave a dry smirk. He shifted to sit more comfortably against the wall and gave a sigh, eyes focusing on a book Shizuo had been reading by the bed. He took his time in answering, giving a languid shrug and mind flickering back to Shinra for a moment. He heard the sound of plastic and saw Shizuo open a bag of crackers from the corner of his eye.

"Ending things," he said finally, gaze flicking to look back up at him. "Shizu-chan, it really just comes down to prolonging things or becoming a monster. I knew what would happen. Honestly, Shizu-chan should be thankful. I'd definitely make Shizu-chan's life miserable as a zombie…"

"So you were just giving up?!" Shizuo snapped, crumbs from dry crackers flying from his mouth as he barked at him, chewing angrily.

Izaya gave another dry smirk and an enigmatic shrug.

Just knowing that Heiwajima Shizuo was the only other "human" (Izaya had either dropped his standards or gone with the most basic technical definition) left in this city made his blood curdle. His heart sank; it felt like there was absolutely nothing left living for, not with his precious humans gone, and this vile creature left.

He had no one left to love.

"…Then what do you suggest?" Izaya asked quietly, eyes hardening, watching as Shizuo finished his snack and tossed the wrapper aside. "Can Shizu-chan fly a helicopter? A plane? Does Shizu-chan plan on stealing a car, just driving over all those zombies? Or does Shizu-chan plan on strolling out of this city, hope to get to the next city before this spreads? Or maybe the train? Can Shizu-chan operate that? Where was Shizu-chan planning to go? Just wander around until he found some people? Oh, was Shizu-chan planning on swimming across the ocean?"

As he spoke, his voice grew more and more mocking and Shizuo growled. He stood still and glared at him, returned Izaya's smirk with his ice-cold, full of hatred stare. His gaze seemed venomous and if there was one thing that could have lifted Izaya's spirits, it was that though everything had changed, at least Shizuo was the same. The very thought had a twisted smirk growing on his features.

The same monstrous Shizu-chan.

"I don't fucking know!" Shizuo finally barked and Izaya was still as he took a step closer. A hand reached out and grabbed him by his shirt, yanking him to his feet and pulling him close. "I've got no goddamn idea how I'm going to get out of this shit, but at least I'm not laying down like some fuckin' dog and just dying! You're a piece of shit, Izaya, you know that? And even worse, you're a coward! You're not even tryin'! You cause all this crap and now that shit's happenin' where you aren't in control, you just give up?! You're human! You're mean to fight and survive, goddamnit!"

He broke off, panting and Izaya could feel his hot breath against his mouth, ears ringing from his yelling. His hand reached up and shoved at Shizuo's chest, mumbling 'Shizu-chan's breath stinks' and turned, brow furrowed. Despite his earlier confidence, something about Shizuo's words had struck something inside him. He thought of Shinra again, of the phone in his pocket; he told him he'd be there within a day, but he hadn't even thought of that when pressing the barrel to his chin. He wasn't alone; not really. He had people waiting for him. He had people who knew he was alive. He had people expecting him. He wasn't alone, and yet he decided he was.

He didn't even try to think of a way to get out of the mess. The moment he saw five of them, he decided he was outnumbered and hopeless.

If Shizuo hadn't appeared, he'd most certainly be dead.

He'd be dead.

Izaya felt unsettled.

He felt something wash over him, something that he hated, something that he hated Shizuo for being able to cause:

Shame.

Because Shizuo was right. He was right, that bastard; he was supposed to be a monster, supposed to be stupid, and yet he was right. He hated when Shizuo showed any signs of intelligence because Shizuo was Shizu-chan. Shizuo had been one of the few people who escaped and was surviving; he found a safe place, he found food, he was surviving and waiting. Whether or not he had a plan, Izaya didn't know, but Shizuo was surviving. He was fulfilling the most basic of human instincts:

Surviving.

Shizu-chan the Monster.

Shizu-chan the Protozoan.

Shizu-chan the Not Human.

Shizu-chan the—

—Only Other Human Left.

Izaya shuddered and bowed his head. His hand reached up to rest in his pockets and Shizuo was silent as he watched and waited. Waited in silence, waited for Izaya to say something, to do something, but Izaya wasn't doing anything. One shudder and nothing.

And when Shizuo was about to yell again, tired of waiting, Izaya's shoulders started shaking.

It was silent at first, but then it grew. And then it was unmistakable:

Izaya was laughing.

Orihara Izaya was laughing when they were the some of the only humans left, hiding in an old abandoned building, zombies possibly circling outside, just waiting for them. Orihara Izaya was laughing, his head thrown back and entire body shaking with peals of it. Orihara Izaya was laughing and it was truly terrifying, but Shizuo stood still and watched him, waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Kept waiting.

Waited until his laughter subsided, until Izaya had caught his breath. Waited until even the last traces of the smirk disappeared from his face. Waited until he looked up and for a moment, everything about Orihara Izaya washed away, only to return with the next blink of his eye.

"There's always a way."

"…What?"

Izaya smirked. He turned towards Shizuo and crossed the distance between them. A hand was held out and Shizuo's eyes dropped to stare at it momentarily, flicking back upwards, not trusting Izaya to take his eyes off his face for more than two seconds. He was confused; he'd seen Izaya go from smirking to frowning to contemplative to laughing to smirking again, a range of emotions, every single one of them annoying.

"Shizu-chan and I are going to be partners, right?" Izaya asked. "To find a way out of this?"

"…" Shizuo stared at him silently. He didn't remember saying that or even implying it, but rejecting it didn't seem like a smart thing to do. Partners with Izaya just sounded wrong in his head, but he ran over what had happened and many wrong things had happened. And the one thing Izaya had going for him was that he was human and that he was living.

"So let's shake on it."

Giving a defeated sigh, Shizuo nodded after a moment and took Izaya's hand. He frowned at the awkwardness of shaking with his arch nemesis, had to fight the urge to crush Izaya's fingers. He wasn't sure how serious Izaya's word was; for all he knew, Izaya could already be planning to screw him over.

But Shizuo really had little else to lose.

He looked up again, mumbling 'partners' and could see Izaya's smirk coil. He wasn't sure how Izaya had come to that conclusion, but he was the first person Shizuo had seen. When he saw him with those zombies earlier, Shizuo almost actually turned and went back. But he knew he'd never forgive himself for just letting Izaya die like that.

Izaya or not, he was human and being human was the most precious thing in the world.

Shizuo had to save every single human left, because there weren't many. It was his duty as a human to help the others.

"Together, nothing can stop Shizu-chan and me, right?"

Izaya's insides shuddered with the thought, even though his voice dripped venom with the words. He pulled his hand back almost a bit too soon, like touching Shizuo was like touching fire. A deal with the protozoan, he thought, this is what it's coming down to…

Because he knew it was the truth, that Orihara Izaya and Heiwajima Shizuo were invincible together. Nothing would be able to stop them; somehow, someway, they'd overcome every single obstacle.

They would be the ultimate duo. The perfect team.

It made Izaya want to vomit.

Again.

It was disgusting, but it was the truth.

The world can be so cruel sometimes…

They were quiet for a bit, separating. Izaya lingered around the sleeping area and Shizuo went back to sit by the wall, back to it and deciding what snack to have next.

"Shinra and Celty are alive," Izaya said quietly, sitting back down. "He texted me earlier. They're at an abandoned warehouse… we'll go there first. And then decide what to do."

"They're alive?" Shizuo asked, eyes widening. "How—"

Izaya took out his phone and held it up. "Shinra texted me earlier. However, I'm not sure how long I'll still be able to use my phone. Aah… I told Shinra I would be there within twenty four hours, but Shizu-chan's Olympic-like heavy footed running has made walking seem too tedious."

"Wait, they're alive?"

Izaya looked up.

"Shizu-chan, how many times do I have to repeat that? Yes, they are."

"Have you seen anyone else?" he asked immediately, walking over. "Kasuka? Tom-san? Vorona?"

"No," Izaya muttered, frowning at how close he was and waving his hand. "I haven't. Go away, Shizu-chan. I said we were partners, not lovers."

"Are they all right? Shinra and Celty?"

"Shizu-chan… stop talking so much."

"Answer me, fuckin-!"

"They're fine. Shizu-chan, I'm sure Celty's shadows can hold those zombies off more than well enough to protect Shinra and herself. That's why we should get to them as soon as we can."

Shizuo had started pacing at some point, Izaya was annoyed to realize, so he moved over to the bed and laid down, carefully stretching his legs out. Minutes passed before Shizuo stopped; he walked over and sat down on the ground next to him. Legs crossed and his elbows rested on propped up knees, frowning. "…What are we going to do?"

Izaya groaned.

"Why is Shizu-chan so talkative…?"

"Because you're the first fuckin' person I've found all goddamn week!"

Izaya said nothing. Shizuo swore and bowed his head, clenching his fists so hard he wondered if he'd break the skin. Because it was true; even though it was just (and unfortunately) Izaya, he was still human. This was the first interaction Shizuo had in so long; even if it was Izaya, it was hope. He couldn't stop talking; he had so many questions and finally a person, even if it was just Izaya, to try to ask. Someone so he wasn't alone.

Even if it was just Izaya.

He even began to think that Izaya had fallen asleep when he heard a sigh. Izaya rolled over onto his side, back to Shizuo.

"…We'll go to Celty and Shinra first. And then we'll try to find a refugee camp or something… there are some set up. We just need to find the biggest and safest one."

Nodding, Shizuo mumbled 'okay' when he realized Izaya couldn't see him. It was silent again for a few moments until Shizuo cleared his throat, turning to look at him tiredly.

"…I want to try finding Kasuka."

Izaya gave a sigh.

"Shizu-chan…"

"I want to try," Shizuo argued, voice sounding tight. "…The least we can do is that, right? Kasuka's smart. And maybe he and Ruri figured somethin' out… if they're in the city—"

"If they're in the city, they're hiding. If they're hiding, we're not going to find them," Izaya answered in a drawl. "Shizu-chan, you found me by pure luck and coincidence. Were you planning on just walking around, yelling his name? Don't you think that could attract some extremely unwanted attention? I'm not risking my life for someone who could already be dead."

Izaya didn't need to turn around to know that his words hurt Shizuo, but he didn't particularly care. He needed Shizuo for his strength and just for the sake of not being alone in this situation. Whether or not Shizuo's feelings got hurt didn't matter to him.

"We leave tonight. After the sun sets," Izaya said shortly, hearing Shizuo's scuffled footsteps as he stood. "Rest up, Shizu-chan."

He walked away and Izaya counted how many steps he took. He reached ten before they fell silent.

"…Kasuka's my brother."

"It's not worth the risk."

Shizuo was silent but Izaya heard a frustrated growl.

"…Oi. Do you even care about your sisters?"

"Probably dead," Izaya drawled. "Or zombies together. Wouldn't be surprised if they tried to come after me first."

"…Do you care about anyone except yourself?"

Eyes opening, finally annoyed, Izaya sat up and glared at Shizuo. The ex-bartender wore a look of disgust and Izaya wore one of fatigue and incredulity. What did Shizuo expect?, he thought. He was being realistic. Kasuka could be dead, his sisters could be dead. And fake hope wasn't worth jeopardizing their lives, their healthy and living lives.

"If you don't prioritize yourself," Izaya said lowly, "then you might as well be dead. Remember that, Shizu-chan. I'm not going to coddle you. If you want to go find Kasuka, fine, go. But don't drag me down with you. What I'm going to do is find Shinra and Celty because I know they're alive and they're expecting me. Shizu-chan can think it over carefully; decide if you're coming with me or not. I'm not changing my mind, so Shizu-chan has to think about his choice."

His eyes narrowed.

"I'll be damned if I die because of you."

notes: this is my first attempt ever at a zombie au fic, hahaha, so this will be interesting. thank you for reading, reviews are appreciated!