Hello, readers! This is a short story that will be four chapters long. It's already completed, so you won't have to worry about any hiatus. I think I'll be putting out a chapter each Wednesday, if not earlier.

The Izaya alternates portrayed in this include Psyche, Roppi, Sakuraya, Hibiya, and Virus-138.

Hope you like my attempt at portraying things from Shizuo's point of view. uvu

Enjoy~

Disorder.

"What's your name?"

Izaya doesn't look at Shinra, even though he's the one who has addressed him. He just starts turning his head and stops at me instead. His eyes are so hard, not glinting tauntingly with that smug smirk twisting his mouth like it always used to. I don't respond, though I admit my eyes narrow. I don't want to even look at him…but something is off. He might have been right; fine, I admit it.

Shinra, I mean.

Not Izaya.

I know it's my fucking fault, though, so I wish he'd stop pestering me. That's the whole reason I came to this damned place… A hospital. Who would've thought I'd meet the flea here, of all places.

I want to not care, but I actually feel like it really is my fault, so I had to give in to Celty's unspoken words and Shinra's coaxing eventually. I hate to admit it, but if what they said was true then Izaya was pretty fucked up.

Not that he wasn't already.

Little shit.

Anyway, I'm starting to get a little uncomfortable under Izaya's practical glare, knowing he never glared like that. Where is that damned smirk I hate so much? Fuck, why am I here, anyway? I'm starting to rethink my decision of coming here… My lips tighten around my unlit cigarette – I can't smoke; damn it.

Fucking hospitals.

Izaya finally stops gazing coldly at me and looks at Shinra with a frown. "You know who I am, dumbass."

"Ah—ahaha…" Shinra laughs nervously. Celty isn't in the room; she's waiting outside. "I don't think he's met you yet, though," Shinra points out, gesturing to me. I look at the underground doctor. So that damned flea doesn't know me, huh?

Good riddance.

"So?" Izaya returns, his lip curling. I don't remember real disgust on his features before, not that I really bothered to look for it anyway. "You don't ask me my name like I'm some little kid. Besides, do you really think I want to meet people right now?"

"I dunno," Shinra responds lightheartedly. "I thought maybe you were in a good mood."

Izaya gives a dry, flat, 'hah.' He looks at me with those hateful eyes again, and I look back with calm impassivity. I'm only slightly irritated, but that doesn't change the fact I utterly despise the man sitting up in his hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. Plus the other bandages and that tube sticking in his arm to keep him attached to an IV. "Why are you here?" he asks me. That voice is so cold.

Well, fuck you too.

"I'm here because Shinra dragged me here," I answer dully, my thumb jerking towards the man in the lab coat. "What the hell, Flea, you think I don't have a soul? I care enough to make sure you're not dead, Izaya." I frown, and his eyes narrow.

"Izaya?" Izaya scoffs, and I furrow my brow. "I prefer Roppi."

Shinra looks at me as if he's trying to tell me that this is what he was talking about. A plaintive, 'Do you get it now?' I want to punch him, but I won't. Instead I look away from Shinra and back to Izaya. Yes, I'm still calling that little shit 'Izaya' no matter what he prefers. My eyes are narrowed. "Look, Izaya," I say in a low voice, "I'm not gonna play your damned game. Your name is Izaya – Roppi doesn't make any fucking sense."

He's picking at the IV tube in his arm. His mouth twists into a smirk, but it's not the kind I'm expecting. It's more bitter than his normal smirk in all its smugness. "Of course Roppi makes sense; that's my name. I can tell you're not the brightest, are you?" He tilts his head, and suddenly he seems like his old taunting self again.

I take my cigarette out of my mouth. "Are you really trying to push me in a situation like this?" I growl.

"Shizuo, don't do anything rash," Shinra comes in; I want to punch him again. Shut up, Shinra. "He really doesn't—"

"He's smart; he's choosing to make want to kill him," I snapped. "If he doesn't want to die, he'll shut up. He's smart enough to know that he's in a bad situation that could get him killed."

"Hoh?" Izaya smiled wryly. "Is that a threat?" The smile widens. "Come and get me; if your conscience can take it, that is."

That's it. I snap my cigarette in half between my fingers and drop it to the ground, squashing it beneath my shoe. A growl rumbles in my throat. "Izaya…"

"Shizuo, please," Shinra interjects, grabbing my shoulder before I can do anything. I jerk my shoulder away and walk threateningly towards the flea; he's all I can see; no thinking, just acting out what my anger wanted me to do: beat him to a pulp; wipe him off the face of the earth; fucking kill that flea already! Why won't he just die?!

I'm ignoring Shinra's pleas to get me to stop – probably shouldn't've brought me here, huh, Shinra? Real dumb idea, dumbass; you know I hate this guy.

Fuck, Izaya, why won't you just—

He doesn't react when my fist grips at the collar of his loose shirt and I'm about punch him. I'm lifting him from the bed by his collar and Shinra is talking behind me but that—fucking—flea is just smiling at me. I clench my teeth and raise my free fist higher for the hit.

"Why are you hesitating?" he asks me.

Fuck you.

His head tilts. "Go ahead and kill me," he says, and I just wanna—

Wait, what?

His smile is gone now. "Go on. Kill me. Kill me now, why not? You want to, right? So get it over with. Kill me; kill me and get it over with."

I'm staring at him. I don't get it. This really wasn't Izaya; no, I don't think he'd say something like that. Right?

Well, in any case, I don't feel so angry anymore; huh. I guess I'm done for now.

My hand releases his collar, and he falls to the bed. He rubs the back of his neck and seems to glare at nothing; his gaze is averted from me now. He starts picking at the IV tube in his arm again. I take a step back; I still don't want to be in close proximity. My eyes close in irritation.

"I told you, Shizuo, he's not himself," Shinra speaks; he sounds distressed. Oh well. My fault I guess. Whatever. His hand's on my shoulder again and I want to shrug it off but I decide to be nice and not move. He moves his hand away on his own, but I'm not any less tense. "You can't do that, okay?"

I respond with a noncommittal grunt and take out a cigarette to stick between my lips, knowing I can't light it anyway.

"I…think you have my point." Shinra laughs weakly. "We'll be leaving, ah, Roppi. Sorry to trouble you. Come on, Shizuo…" He addresses me, now, and I'm staring at this supposedly-not-Izaya for another second or two before I turn around and walk towards the door without a word. Shinra's following me. I feel like I could maybe leave him behind forever, never to see him again. It's a great feeling.

"Bye, then," Izaya bids us farewell, his tone biting and taunting at the same time. "I truly hope we don't meet again."

I pause. I don't know why that pushes it for me, but it does. I mean, it's bad enough I didn't even want to come here; I already feel like shit knowing I—

I'm walking toward him; I fling my fist right at him. My body moved on its own, but I restrained myself enough not to break his face; he should be grateful; that little—

His eyes aren't cold now; they widen and blink and – what the fuck? – his lip quivers, and he looks at me with these wide, hurt eyes. And then he starts to cry. What the hell, Izaya.

I don't care. It wasn't that bad; that's not you at all; shut up. I turn around and walk right out the door, adjusting my sunglasses as if that hadn't happened. Shinra's making broken noises, unsure what to do, probably. Eventually he's following behind me. I don't look back, even for a second.

It was two weeks ago when he got stuck in that damned place. Izaya, that fucking flea, he shouldn't have taken a single step into Ikebukuro. I found the bastard walking the sidewalk, holding up a cell phone and smiling that twisted smile. The moment I saw him I was growling out the beginnings of his name only to feel it rise into a yell.

He turned to me and flashed a smile. "Ah, Shizu-chan!" he beamed, just as I chucked the closest object to me right for him: a large metal trashcan. He dodged, and the chase began. I tore a street sign from its cement base and ran after him, nothing but murder on my mind. Rage fueled my actions as I wreaked havoc on the city in my chasing of that damned flea.

And to him it was a fucking game.

To me, I wanted to kill him.

God damn the fact I almost did.

It was all the same as any other chase; I could never seem to catch him, just like an actual flea – honestly, he is such a pest… – and there was always that annoying attitude in everything he did. Just…the way it almost looked like he was having fun; all smug because I couldn't catch him. God damn that flea, I just wanted to get him once and for all…

I pressed ahead and gripped my street sign until I could feel the metal bending in my grip; it was like a plastic cup to me, just putty in my hand. He'd made a sharp turn into an alley – it's one we've run down before – and it was here I made my move and swung my current weapon at him, aiming to slam him into oblivion and half expecting to miss, knowing how it always worked with that damned flea.

And then, contact. Actual contact.

It was easy, like hitting a baseball with a baseball bat, and then he flew forward from the impact. I watched, grinning; I finally got him. Satisfaction. He flew right into the street just as a truck came; I watched the damned thing slam into him even harder than I had hit him with a street sign; watched Izaya slam into it like a ragdoll and tumble over it, head-over-heels as if he were already dead.

If that god damned truck hadn't come right then, he would have slammed into the wall of a building, got up, and brushed himself off like nothing had happened. If that god damn fucking truck hadn't come, he wouldn't be in the hospital right now.

I went up to him calmly as he lay on the street; I left my weapon behind in the alley. The truck had already screeched to a halt ahead of the crash site. I honestly expected the flea to get right up and start running again like nothing had happened, but there was blood around him and I guess I knew that he was unconscious. It was weird, because in that same street, back in high school, that flea had caused me to get hit by a different truck. Only I wasn't as affected.

God damn it, Flea…

"Oi, Izaya," I said, nudging his face-down body with my foot. I rolled him over with that same foot; his eyes were closed and his head was bleeding – he was bleeding – even though he was still smiling – of course he was, fucking little shit. I scowled at him, but really my chest was tightening because I thought I'd killed him.

It disgusted me just to touch him, but I had to make sure he was alive. "Where the fuck do you find a pulse…?" I muttered to myself as I tried to find one somewhere on his neck. Agh, whatever.

I stood; I was the one who called 119, but I didn't wait around for the ambulances to come and for two weeks I didn't even visit him. I got a call from Shinra – who checked up on him every so often, unlike me – saying that he would stay alive, and that was all I needed.

I couldn't care less about anything else. In fact, I'd be glad if I'd killed him once and for all.

…But not really.

Even though that damned flea calls me a monster, and even though he's right, I still have a conscience. I'm not heartless.

Actually, that asshole ended up in a coma for three days, and I was fine with that as long as I hadn't actually caused the death of him. He woke up and wouldn't even talk for another two days or so – Celty expressed her concern to me, but I honestly didn't give a shit. Izaya had it coming to him; he really did. He was an utter asshole, and the world knew it.

Well, a lot of the world. Whatever.

When he started talking again, he wasn't himself. Celty told me it was like he'd switch personalities at random, and none of them acted quite like Izaya. Shinra said it was almost like some kind of Multiple Personality Disorder, or some shit like that.

All because I actually got him. Fuck him, making me feel guilty like this. I shouldn't even feel so bad anyway; he deserved it, the asshole; little shit that he was.

Fuck… I really do hate violence.

Sorry for the swearing (=7=)/ We're working with Shizu-chan, after all...

Tell me your thoughts! I hope you enjoyed. uvu