Durarara! © Ryohgo Narita.
Izaya can remember the conversation like it had happened mere minutes ago rather than months.
He can still feel the sting on his cheek where Celty slapped him for his unsurprising yet cruel insensitivity.
"He's dead," Shinra had whispered hoarsely, swallowing the thick lump in his throat.
"And?" Izaya chided swinging back and forth on his feet. The news had caught him off guard, yes, but he prized himself on being a marvelous actor and didn't let it show.
Shinra frowned at him, looking at Celty.
"What sort of reaction were you expecting? For me to break down and cry? Why on earth would I do something like that for a man who yelled a mantra of murderous words every time he seen me in Ikebukuro. You have to realize that it makes perfect sense for me not to ca–"
Before Izaya knew it, he was left alone, leaning against the rough brick wall to nurse his freshly bruised cheek.
Izaya unconsciously presses a hand to his cheek as the memory plays through his mind. He is somewhere he never thought he'd find himself. He is standing in front of the grave of someone who was once known to be the strongest and most explosive man in Ikebukuro. He is standing in front of the grave of someone he thought he'd never miss, but does.
He will admit it to himself; however, if someone were to ask him to say it out loud he wouldn't be able to. His pride won't allow him to speak certain truths and there are still certain thoughts he can't ever voice.
"Doesn't it seem boring now?" people will ask him.
He never replies.
He can't.
Izaya lets out a shaky sigh and stares down at the words engraved on the headstone.
Heiwajima Shizuo
The grave is plain, with only a name. It was fitting enough, for the type of man he was. All he ever wanted was a simple, peaceful life.
Izaya hadn't let that happen. He fed off the attention Shizuo gave him, no matter how negative it was. He needed it. If that was the only way he could get Shizuo to look at him, or touch him, then it was okay.
That was Izaya's secret alone, and he kept it buried as deep as he could. It was so deep that sometimes he would completely forget about why he taunted the ex bartender to begin with. Eventually, it became almost like a strange, ritualistic habit of his each time he stepped in Ikebukuro.
He heard from Shinra that a lot of people were at the funeral.
"I don't understand why anyone would want to honor the memory of a monster," Izaya had whispered.
Shinra frowned at this, "Maybe Shizuo had a softer side, a side that you never would have been allowed to see. Call him a monster as much as you like, in the end he was still human, just like you."
It was something Izaya had often considered, but he never let the thought linger. He was afraid of what he might feel if he did.
Of course, Izaya didn't attend the funeral. Wouldn't that have been a laugh? Izaya Orihara attending the funeral of the man who hated him more than anything… People would have wondered why he was there, the man Shizuo got his kicks trying to kill.
Something even funnier… The monster was finally taken down and Izaya had absolutely nothing to do with it. Shizuo was taken down by his own strength. The monster was too strong for his own good.
This isn't how it was supposed to end.
Izaya blinks a few times, vaguely aware of the saltine liquid trailing down his cheeks.
"Pathetic," he whispers to himself, "truly pathetic." He briskly swipes at his cheek, looking down at the wetness on his fingers.
To be human… I suppose it's something I can't escape. In the end, not even that monster Shizu-chan could do it. In the end, we all die…
Shinra was right.
Izaya squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to allow a new onslaught of tears to fall. He felt a lump forming in his throat, but swallowed quickly before he could choke. He makes a strangled, whimpering sound in his attempt at suppression.
It was something Shizuo was never able to do in life, just death. No matter how fast he chased Izaya, no matter how long, how far. No matter how hard he hit him, or which insults he threw his way, they never broke past Izaya's uncaring exterior and Izaya knew that pissed the volatile blonde off to no explainable extent. Shizuo could never beat that stupid fake smile off the dark haired man's face.
Izaya's lips slowly parts as he sucks in a deep breath, "There is something grossly poetic about all of this, isn't there Shizu-chan? You would have a good laugh if you could see me now."
Izaya shuts his eyes. He can picture Shizuo's face clearly. That tall, lean body, dressed up in a bartender's uniform, blonde hair, tanned skin. A stupid cancer stick hanging between his lips… The angry expression that would take over his features as he yelled, "Izaya-kuuuuun!" and chased the dark haired man out of Ikebukuro. His town. His home.
"But maybe you are having a good laugh. Are you laughing, Shizu-chan?"
Part of Izaya hopes that, wherever Shizuo is, he is laughing, even if it is at Izaya's own expense. However, he knows that admitting this will do him no good. Shizuo Heiwajima is gone now and deep down… deep down, Izaya knows that nothing will ever be the same.
"Maybe you're watching me, wherever you are, giving yourself a pat on the back. You finally..." he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.
It starts to rain. Oh, hell, is it ever raining! It's like the Gods are trying to say sorry for inflicting their wrath on a poor man who didn't deserve a life full of pain and loneliness.
Izaya's lips part slowly as he speaks two words he never thought would escape his mouth.
"I'm sorry," he speaks softly, clawing at his chest and trying desperately to dull the ache.
But he knows it's too late for apologies, so, of course, there is no answer. There is just the rain.