1.) I have no beta and I'm lazy when it comes to re-reading 5 times, so forgive my spelling and grammar mistakes...

2.) This will not be a happy, fluffy fic in any way, hope for darkness
3.) Review, follow, favourite and enjoy!

All I want is Blackness… Blackness and Silence.

...Just stop and think and feel and breathe! Look around. Look. Look at the way your eyes frown when you see your reflection, isn't is beautiful?

Friday November 12th

15:07

Ikebukuro isn't known as being a peaceful town, no, not by far. If you ask anyone in the city who's lived there long enough, I'm certain they'd tell you tales of kidnappings and headless riders and gang wars and the story of a beast aimlessly chasing after a flea leaving a trail of pure destruction and chaos in it's wake. Maybe after hearing these tales you're knees would shake and your body would tremble and you'd conclude what business you had in that city as soon as possible. Because if the tales weren't enough, seeing the reality would be sure to set you running. The way there's a new face on the news each night. The way a person in a black leather suit and yellow cat helmet would screech past on a motorbike, catching your eyes and holding your gaze for some unknown reason, and the way it would send a shiver rippling down your spine. The way you'd hurry past the mouth of an alleyway and ignore the grunt of people fighting, some in yellow and some in blue. Though for the person passing Ikebukuro now, the one thing they wouldn't see was the beast. The supposed savage, menacing beast that leaps over buildings and throws cars in the hopes of catching a single flea. And I'm sure you and the person you heard it from would find it strange, after all, every other thing was true, every other thing was displayed before your own eyes, so where was this beast?

That is the question everybody seems to be discussing. Where is the beast? Where is the destruction? Where are the growls and screams and sirens? Because without any of that, Ikebukuro seems quiet peaceful in spite of the varied criminal activity just under everyone's noses. It's not as if it was as out in the open as crumbling buildings and screams of rage. The lack of it (no matter how unwanted it is) causes a dangerous sense of apprehension to breed, the unease hanging heavy as fog in the air and settling over the entire city. The air taste metallic with a lack of blood and the people of Ikebukuro are unsettled as they await the knowledge of what has caused such an omen.

But it's not just the general citizens that are feeling the pressure. Celty is restless as she sits at the computer. She's browsing through the Dollars website in the hopes of finding anything on Shizuo. It's been well over a month since the two had last spoken and the blonde hasn't answered a single call from neither her nor Shinra. Each time she's visited his apartment, he hasn't answered, not so much as sparing an obscenity or a growl or a word or a sound. Instead, there had been this overbearing and complete silence that had lingered about the entire apartment complex and followed after her even as she had left. It wasn't her own silence nor was it Shizuo's and it was by no means tranquil; it was more a void that had devoured any signs of life. It was heavy and dreadful and draped over her shoulders as she trudged into her own apartment each time. So she sits at the computer and she feels that silence growing familiar as it begins to embrace her, taint her thoughts with those of sorrow and do something to her that her mind cannot find the right words to describe. And as she sits there, descending into a whirlpool of worry and doubt and ugly emotion, Shinra walks in grinning like a fool and so rudely disrupting her pain for the blonde.

"Ahh, it's such a cold day, the perfect kind of day for two lovers to-" He doesn't get to finish spouting his usual nonsense about what he wants him and Celty to do, as he'd happily go on about holding hands for hours if Celty wouldn't stop him. She thrusts her PDA in his face and it's one of those times where she doesn't need a voice to convey her feelings because as Shinra reads about how worried she is about Shizuo, he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling and her feet keep shifting where they're planted on the ground. He's proud that he keeps so updated with his partner's little idiosyncrasies, if he'd had the chance, he wouldn't of needed to read the words to understand that she was worried about someone. Cue his little Celty-deduction skills and he'd effortless figure out it was Shizuo.

Shinra kneels down in front of her and takes her own shaking hands into his warm palms. He looks up at her and offers a smile, the type where he shows off his brilliant white teeth and closes his eyes and paired with his massive glasses and messy hair, Celty can't help but shake her shoulders as she silently laughs at the display. He then surprises her by taking the back of her hands to his lips that are warm and soft and perfect and decorates her skin with small, affectionate kisses. She attempts to draw her hands back out of sheer surprise, but it's something he anticipates after so many years and instead holds them tighter, showers them with even more kisses until she's practically blushing. "I don't know what's happened to him, Celty. But I do know that we're his friends and as much as he tries to deny it, he cares for us and we care for him. He will show up eventually, maybe he just needs a little time to himself, you know how stressed he's been lately." He mumbles into her hands and his voice is soft and soothing and her stomach feels as though there's light butterflies trying to break free. The warmth from his body is just what she needs, it comforts her and soothes the storm boiling inside of her. She brings her hands up to Shinra's cheeks, cupping them as she eyelessly gazes into pools of brown. And Shinra can feel her gaze on him, feels the way she brushes a thumb over his skin and he can't help but revel in it. There are honestly thousands of goofy things he could say right now to accidentally ruin the moment, but in this moment he doesn't know a single one. They're both silent, but it's warm and inviting and everything but the one she feels when she visits Shizuo's apartment.

"I love you, Celty." He says, smiling in her soft grip. He knows there are times when he need to be serious and although there hasn't been one in a while, he understands that now is one of those times. Now is a time when his beloved needs comfort and it's what he'll generously give to her.

She doesn't bother to retrieve her PDA because the way her flowing shadows plume into a heart shape really says it all. It brings Shinra back to the moment he first layed eyes on Celty. He's happy to say it was love at first sight and in this moment he can't help but think about how he'd chose her again and again and again, over and over and over without ever a doubt or hesitation because she is the one that stirs a feeling in his heart he never knew he wanted until it was there. He smiles foolishly again, and brings his lips back to her hands, but then the mood is ruined. Not by Shinra or Celty, but by the vibration of his phone ringing in his pocket. He acts as if he's going to ignore it, though when Celty quickly withdraws her hands and points at his pocket, blushing in the form of shadows, he has no choice but to answer.

"Hello-"

"Shinra." It's Izaya and his breathing sounds rushed as if he's just had to outrun Shizuo, except nobody has heard from the blonde so suddenly he's serious and listening and trying not to make a funny greeting. "Shinra, I'm at Shizuo's apartment and you need to get here asap."

Shinra stands up and frowns. He walks into his medial room to collect his emergency bag before he even knows what he needs it for, gesturing for Celty to follow as he hurriedly collects his emergency bag. "What's happened?" He asks as he waits to see if there is anything specific he needs.

"He was in the kitchen bleeding on the floor and the oven was on."

That makes Shinra pause. He's uncertain because he knows that the fact the oven was on is significant, but he can't quit figure out why, until Izaya quickly continues. "He has a gas oven, Shinra. It was open and the place was filled with dangerous gas and he's not fucking breathing. Plus he's bleeding from his stomach and legs so get here asap."

After that, all Shinra hears is the sound of the phone clattering to the ground and Izaya distantly repeating the words "Breathe, come one, breathe." over and over. But before he could find out that Izaya had been doing CPR and had been exposed to the gas for longer than he should have, he's grabbed his oxygen mask and out of the door with Celty, missing the way Izaya falls to the ground unconscious, with a loud resounding thud that momentarily breaks the dreadful silence that hangs around the apartment building thick as early morning fog.

14:40

Izaya is probably the only person in Ikebukuro to have not noticed the disappearance of the beast. As he'd slaved away for the same month Shizuo had been gone, he'd assumed the beast had been causing enough havoc on it's own. But he never actually looked into it because for once he was too busy to play.

He stretches back in his chair and looks up and by the time he looks back down he knows that there are 138 squares decorating his plain white ceiling. Namie sits at her own desk typing away words and numbers and facts as if her was a pre-programmed robot and maybe if she didn't always have a rude comment, you could claim you'd created artificial intelligence and sell her for a hefty amount, replace her with someone that had a half-decent personality. He smirks at the thought, sits back in his black chair and entertains the thought of creating such a meaningless being when he could so easily play with his beloved human. "Namie's too cruel to be a robot anyway, her owner would crush her for spare parts to build something better, like a robot dog." He starts to laugh because yes, his own jokes really are that funny and the way she sends this spiteful glare back to him is the most amusing thing in the world.

"Don't you have a job?" She snaps, her lips twitching as she forces the words out instead of a comment that's worth 5% of her paycheck. Her long black main falls from her shoulders and down her back as she flips it from her face and looks up at the red-eyed devil in disguise. "Why don't you go outside and stalk the blonde, apparently he hasn't been around lately." She watches Izaya's calculating expression carefully and smiles to herself when he finally raises an eyebrow in interest, after all he's better off on a wild goose chase than pestering her while she actually does her job.

"Don't mind if I do." Izaya replies and without sparing that awful woman another minute of his time he's out of the door and strolling down road upon road with the wing beneath his wings until he reaches Ikebukuro, because he decides it's a good day to walk and observe quietly for a bit. It's nothing new, not really. There's still the same people amongst the crowd and still the familiar chatter. The air is especially crisp today, lighter with the promise of a new season and reprimand to the unbearable heat that once supressed the beauty of winter. He walks and he breathes and allows the waves of fresh air to cleanse his lung of the Yakuza's smoke and cleanse whatever else impurities can survive in such a holy body. It's seems a perfect day to waste his build up of energy on an adrenaline rush, the air just cold enough to cool his body after a great amount of parkour and running, the perfect atmosphere to relax and revel in when he finishes. Just the thoughts alone are enough to cause him to speed up with impatience. But when he arrives in the area Shizuo is usually found smoking on breaks or eating out for a late lunch, there's only this unsettling normalness about the place, as if Ikebukuro and the people who live there are nothing but ordinary. He frowns at that because as infatuated as he is with humans, the normal ones can seem slightly boring after slaving away for weeks and weeks and when you watch something boring you isolate yourself in your thoughts and Izaya knows how dangerous that can be. He's been working for over a month without any play and Shizuo isn't here to entertain him when he's finally finished and that's not right. He looks around on the bench he's sat on and sees the complete lack of destruction or re-construction and that's not right. He figures that's why he begins to stroll to the beast's apartment and see what has managed to tame the whirlpool of chaos for himself. The walk to Shizuo's home is in his opinion unnecessarily long and tedious, but knowing he's going to have one hell of a chase is enough for his trademark smirk to twist his lips.

He waltzes up to the correct door and knocks on it a couple of times, the loud sharp sounds reverberating before trailing off into this uncomfortable silence that's enough to make even Izaya a little twitchy. He doesn't dwell on the uncomfortable feeling and instead picks the lock as to not waste time that could be used to provoke the beast in his own apartment. He takes a moment to inspect the place, it's messy and cold and overall unpleasant. There may not be clothes discarded on the floor, but the few pillows that are meant for the sofa are strewn across the floor but there are small imperfections like knocked over picture frames and random bits of paper that make Izaya wrinkle his nose in distaste. The apartment itself is quite small, with an open living room and kitchen as you walk directly inside. The small space and oddities scattered around the room would make anyone think an average human lived here, laughed here, slept here, when in fact it was nothing but a beast stomping around the place and making a mess he swears he'll clean up tomorrow, when it reality never comes. He steps into the apartment fully and slams the door behind him and suddenly his senses are telling him there's something wrong because there are shoes by the door and it's late afternoon and there's not even the dull sound of the TV playing. He's instantly aware of his surroundings and analysing everything in sight because when you're in Izaya's line of work, you have to be able to trust what you feel without a doubt, after all, seeing is believing but feeling is the truth.

As he moves further into the building, he can hear the quiet hiss of gas so he slowly walks forwards to check behind the counter that obscures his view of the kitchen floor and the appliances and counters lined out across the back of the room. The threatening hiss is coming from the oven which is splayed open beside an unconscious and bleeding Shizuo who has a loose grip on a sharp silver kitchen knife covered in splatters of red. Before Izaya even realises what he's doing, he's got Shizuo's arms in his hands and is dragging the dead weight from the apartment. He lets go when he reaches the door to cover his nose with his black top, unlock the door and pull both of them from the room filled with a suffocating cloud of silent death. As soon as he's sure the blonde is far enough away, he takes a few deep breaths and sprints back inside to turn the oven off, switch on the fan and open every window he can easily see. When he returns outside with the door firmly locked and a few wet tea towels blocking underneath the door, he's light-headed and dizzy. He pauses to catch his breath and lean against the door and just try to comprehend the situation, but his attention is abruptly focussed back to the passed out blonde laying helplessly on the floor with a small pool of blood already beginning to form around his stomach. The first thing Izaya checks is his breathing, not surprised when he finds the lack of air flowing in and out of his lungs. He tips Shizuo's head back to open his airway and starts compressions, doing 30 before pinching his nose and supplying him with two lungfuls of oxygen. When he repeats the process twice more and finds that Shizuo still isn't breathing, he fumbles for the phone in his back pocket and speed-dials Shinra, the phone held in place to his ear by his shoulder. He continues with the compression as he talks and allows the phone to fall from his shoulder only when he's sure the doctor's on his way. Only he falls just a few moments afterwards because being so light-headed and dizzy it puts a certain weight on your eyelids that Izaya couldn't avoid.

When he awakes his breathing is laboured and he feels a stab of panic shoot along his nerves when he sees the fallen beast, still unconscious and still not breathing. He hasn't been out for long he figures, after all, Shinra's still not here. He leans back down to breathe more air into Shizuo's lungs, only now wrinkling his mouth in distaste at sharing his precious air with such a beast who doesn't even deserve it. He can taste the faint smoke from a cigarette and pales when he realises if the idiot had smoked while the oven was like that, the whole apartment would've gone up in sky-high flames and there wouldn't be a body to save. "Stupid protozoan." He mutters under his breath before drawing in oxygen and inflating his lungs, once then twice then it's back to the compressions, one, two, three until it's thirty but he's not exhausted because after all of those years of running and parkour, he can handle breathing for something too idiotic to breathe on its own. Shizuo should be grateful for this! Wasting his time and energy without so much as a twitch or movement in return. He keeps thinking about the energy he's investing into Shizuo who won't even take a damn breath for himself until he can feel anger starting to bubble in his chests as the compressions become viscous because why isn't the stupid protozoan breathing? and where the fuck is Shinra? and everything seems to be all down to him. What he does and how he does it decides everything in the next few minutes. Power shouldn't scare Izaya, and neither should playing God, except he's dealing with the life of a beast that deserves to die but who's only entertaining when alive, what good would he do rotting in hell? He makes up his mind and the compressions carry on steady and steady and steady. His heart is pounding faster and louder in his chest but the compressions go on steady steady steady; there's a bead of sweat rolling from his forehead even though it isn't particularly warm but the compressions go steady and steady and steady until his frustration reaches a limit and it's more like he's back to just punching into Shizuo's abdomen and screaming into his mouth.

His sweaty palms are pounding into the wounded flesh beneath him, a sudden bout of heat washing over him making his skin prickle and flow with an electric current. That is until a firm hand grips his shoulder and pulls him back and he thinks he hears echoes in his mind of when Shinra was yelling stop! stop! He falters now, and it's like he's been dragged out of the water because suddenly he sees that his knees are wet with blood from where the puddle around Shizuo's stomach and thighs has seeped into his trousers and he sees how pale the beast is, lying there so motionlessly. So he sits there and he stares but he tries to keep a smirk on his face as if he's God and and and deciding whether Shizuo was to live or die at this very moment. But he's not. He's Izaya and he's human and right now, he has never been more helpless as he watches the scene unfold before his crimson eyes.

There's Shinra doing compressions but there's a gas mask on his face and Celty is doing something to help the bleeding. All while Izaya sits there in a mild state of shock and watches the world go by because there's nothing he can do, every drop of power has been drained from his body; all he can do is wait as the fate of Shizuo's life is determined by a force stronger than he will ever be, and ponder on why Shizuo chose to give himself up to the cold embrace of darkness.

Shinra looks up from where he's treating Shizuo, eyes narrowed as he analyses the dazed expression on his face. He turns his attention back to the blonde who has started to breathe once more. His pulse is weak and barely there but it's a pulse all the same and he'd rather feel the faint sporadic pulse than nothing but cold, clammy skin. An oxygen mask is firmly placed on his face that Celty manages as he searches through his bag for something to wipe the blood away from Shizuo's stomach. The wounds there are bleeding the worse, a finite supply of blood slowly draining onto the floor. And as uncertain as he may be feeling, neither his skilled mind nor hands have ever let him down. Once there clean enough for him to see, he analyses the cuts, they seem to be from a knife stabbing into him. They're not particularly deep, superficial and away from major arteries. He pushes his hand down softly around the abdomen, sighing in relief at the lack of abnormalities. He reaches into his back for a sterile needle and thread to stitch the flesh back together and stop him from losing any more blood than necessary. He once again wipes away the blood from the cuts and sterilises the area, disinfecting the exposed skin at risk of infection then starts the stitches as soon as possible.

"Celty, you're going to have to help me here by wiping away blood so I can see where to stitch. Izaya, come here and sit by Shizuo's head and just make sure he keeps breathing and has a pulse." He voice is muted and cut off, and the commands push Izaya into action and away from a confused daze. He stands on uncertain legs and walks the short distance to Shizuo's head, kneeling down to press two fingers against the side of his neck, feel the slow sluggish pulse that's the completely opposite of his own. Celty has already moved to Shinra in such a hurry she doesn't even bother to see if Izaya's doing it correctly, blindly trusting the raven to know when something's wrong.

"Here." Shinra says in that tight clipped voice as he shows her the wound he's currently stitching. Every so often, he pauses and allows Celty to wipe away the excess blood and take the opportunity to glance at Izaya. His face is unusually pale and his breathing laboured, the aftermath of too much carbon monoxide, he has to remember to give him oxygen therapy as soon as they get to apartment but right now Shizuo's his priority. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and a frown mars his lips, probably from the pain he's feeling. Shinra wordlessly looks back to his work and continues the process. Stitch, quick pause, stich, quick pause until all four stabs have been stitched together and the bleeding has mostly stopped. He gingerly presses his fingers around Shizuo's abdomen to double check for any abnormalities before moving back to his head. In silence, he presses his hand to the blonde's forehead, allowing some of the excruciating heat to move to his palm before pulling back. He checks Shizuo's pulse and it seems slower and more irregular than before if that's even possible. He looks to Celty and says: "We need to go. Now." and she nods her helmet at that before reaching down to pick him up. Neither Izaya not Shinra believed they possessed the strength to lift a man such as Shizuo, therefore allowed Celty to do it, the most sensible thing to do. After all, she was a Dullahan possessing more strength than a mortal human. She hooked her arms underneath Shizuo's back and legs, being careful not to aggravate any injuries further, only to feel a flush of shock creep across her skin. The dead weight in her arms was a lot lighter than the 70kg he was supposed to be. She pauses and looks at the pale face and is only snapped out of her daze when she hears Shinra's voice, irritable and impatient and not trying to disguise it. "Come on, we don't have any time to waste." And Celty finds herself nodding her helmet again and striding down the corridor with her unconscious friend pressed close to her chest as if she'd attack anyone who presented themselves before her. Shinra and Izaya are right behind her, almost running in their haste until they reach her bike parked outside of the building. She pauses and calls on Shooter, the motorbike being devouring in a mist of swirling shadows, transforming into a black carriage with her headless horse patiently waiting. Shinra is huffing as he runs forward to open the door and allows Celty to step in and lay Shizuo down. He seems to be on the verge of unconsciousness but not quite there as he exhales sharply and turn to lay on his side, curling his knees into his chest and whimpering in pain. His eyes are scrunched up and eyebrows deeply furrowed, though his mouth remains open as he weakly inhales and exhales ragged breaths into the tight-fitting oxygen mask. Shinra is behind her and kneeling at the blonde's side and Izaya is stumbling in to sit opposite them. The Dullahan moves out to sit at the front and hold onto Shooter's reigns, guiding his speeding hooves towards their apartment and away from gawking pedestrians.

15:26

The journey seems to drag on for what seems like hours in a state of purgatory and helplessness until they finally reached their apartment. At that point, Celty lifts Shizuo and brings him inside. She makes a beeline for the hospital-like room where Shinra makes his patients rest, laying the crumpled body onto the freshly made bed. She imagines the way Shizuo would sit there complaining about the people he had to beat money out of or how much of a pest Izaya was and really, why did you introduce us, Shinra? But all of those times he was healthy and strolling from their apartment within the hour, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. The contrast between her memories and the image of the delicate body on display that could pass for a joke of a sickly china doll makes her stomach somersault and lurch, her shadows taking on an aggressive yet protective feel. She wants to stay there and watch over him like an angel, pretend to be one that guards his life instead of one whose duty is to take it, but Shinra is directly behind her and wasting no time in kicking both herself and Izaya out in order to further examine the blonde for any extensive injuries.

Izaya stumbles into the living room before collapsing on one of the recliners gathered around the coffee table. A lungful of air escapes him and hisses as it's snatched from his body. If it's possible, he feels too exhausted to even breathe, settling for leaning back and allowing his most primal and fundamental processes to take place and settle his mind into a blank slate, void of any thought. All except one. One thought that floats around his mind, bounces on the boundaries and falls back into his mind until it's been processed by every cell in his brain. He blinks once then twice as if to blink away the headache that's starting to form, a dull ache throbbing behind his right eye and spreading throughout the rest of his skull. There's a vague sense of breathlessness, his chest sending him a sly hint that he's not getting enough oxygen and he just breathes deeper to compensate. He could get up and walk into Shinra's medical room and remind him that he too was exposed to the dangerous gas. Shinra might blink at him, frown and send him off with his second oxygen mask. It's quite a possibility, Izaya can't recall seeing Shizuo bleed much on their way here, the doctor would probably be just cleaning the blonde up, maybe dressing him in a long, pale green gown. So really there's no problem in strolling into that room. Except Izaya can't bring himself to smirk and his body feels to heavy with the excess weight of his thoughts that would only increase upon seeing that pale face. He doesn't even look up when Celty enters the room.

She walks over on weak legs she fear may buckle before briefly standing in front of the opposite sofa to watch the informant's fatigued form then dropping her weight into the seat. She leans her back against the comfort of the pillows, her helmet falling to the floor with a loud thud that breaks the silence before it envelops the room once more. She allows her body to sink into the embrace of the sofa, her swath of shadows softly twirling in the air as her mind thinks and thinks and thinks what they are both thinking. It's heavy and overbearing and a burden they find themselves shouldering without fully understanding what it is.

Izaya can't quite bring himself to brush it off as an accident, the set up was too elaborate. To have stab wounds and be poisoned from the gas oven isn't an accident, not even for a beast such as Shizuo. And it neither worked as an attack, if someone had wanted to kill him, surely they'd have stabbed him to death if they'd started. And stabbing is a very personal thing, the attacker would want to feel the edge of the blade sink into unprotected flesh, hear the helpless cries as their enemy leaked their very essence of life onto the floor and their clothes. It's insanely intimate, something Izaya would take pleasure in, hence the way he brandishes his knife towards the blonde. So why the gas oven? Why? If the attacker had wanted to draw it out, they could've just let him slowly bleed instead of allowing him to succumb to a painless oblivion from the fumes. It didn't make sense, the connotations from both methods were too contrasting.

He thinks about it long and hard, feels the frustration boil his blood as the thought gnaws and scratches at the back of his mind. The method itself seemed oddly familiar to him, yet he couldn't quite place where he'd recognised it from, as if he were trying to glimpse a fleeting shadows from his peripheral view. Maybe he thinks about it to intensely because the next time he opens his eyes, Celty is slumped back in her chair as if she were asleep and he can hear purposely quiet footprints padding around. It seems to be coming from the kitchen so he groans a little and lifts his head, blinking away tiredness before he's suddenly awake and aware of his surroundings. He's glad to know that there's currently not some weight supressing him, as if the brief sleep had somehow washed it away.

"Izaya?" It's Shinra calling him but his voice seems worn out and overused. He's about to jump up from his seat and stroll over to see what the brunette's doing, but before he can his bespectacled friend is walking towards him and Celty is shifting in her uncomfortable position. Shinra sits beside him on the wide sofa, carefully placing two mugs of tea onto the dark surface of the coffee table. He pauses for a moment, his eyes fluttering closed and his breathing laboured as he take a moment for himself. A once disorientated Celty has snapped back to reality and is sitting up, more than ready to offer her support and comfort to those of them that needed it. Izaya's smiling as if the situation is the funniest thing in the world but it seems alien and out of place when paired with the withering atmosphere and this arrogant silence that's thick and heavy and more toxic than the carbon monoxide. "Well, get on with it." He says but his voice is tight and clipped and he doesn't recognize it as his own.

"What happened?" Shinra mumbles under his breath and when Izaya shoots him a questioning look and Celty reaches forward like she's trying to reach out to him, he just leans forward as if to let the contents of his stomach spill onto the floor. He clutches his head in his hands and all that falls is another quiet: "What happened..?" and then silence.

"Shinra-"

"What happened, Izaya?" There's venom in his voice and gaze when he snaps back and looks at the raven. "Just what exactly happened?" His glasses have fallen to the bridge of his nose, yet Izaya can't help but stare back into the stony eyes of his friend. He turns to Celty then back to Shinra, his mouth dry and his tongue too uncomfortable to speak further but the words push out regardless. "You're the doctor, you tell me." He doesn't mean for his tone to be so challenging, not intentionally but Shinra is starting to provoke him.

"He was fine. He was fine. He really was." And his gaze has shifted to Celty as if he was seeking reassurance so Celty is quick to move in a way that looks like a nod. "He was fine, but you always have something to do with him getting hurt, so explain." Considering the way he keeps pausing, Izaya likes to think that he was just scared, or at the least concerned for his friend so he swallows his anger and suggests what he can. "It's too elaborate for an accident, I like to think I'm right when I say that not even the protozoan is that dumb." He starts, and licks his lips when the feel of sandpaper dries his throat out. He eyes the tea but decides against it and continues to speak, matching his eyes to Shinra's own. "And yet, it doesn't make sense as an attack. Why stab someone and then poison them so they don't feel -"

"No." Shinra says. No? He says no? "They're self-inflicted."

"No they're not." And Izaya says, doesn't even miss a beat.

"Izaya," He hasn't yet broken eye contact, yet his eyes darken and morph into something ugly and twisted. "Izaya, I examined the wounds before I stitched them, I- The angles. There's not way someone could have put the blade in that way unless they did it purposely to make them look self-inflicted." His voice has a sharp, rough edge, as if his anger was leashed on a threadbare piece of rope, only waiting for the final tug before snapping.

"And that wouldn't make sense."

They're silent after that. They don't even notice the way that Celty begins to shake. The way her mass of shadows boil from her neck and spill to the floor instead of dissipating into thin air. She feels as though she can't move, can't pull out her PDA and ask why? ask Shinra are you sure? And yet she knows that if she doesn't ask, the silence that dominates the room will only overwhelm the three until he mere notion of speaking seems ridiculous.

"Why?" Shinra repeats in disbelief. "Why?" His face is beginning to flush with anger, fury dare I say. "Why? Because maybe he just got sick of you." He says, turning to look down onto a truly bewildered Izaya. "Maybe he got sick of being tormented day in, day out! Maybe he-!"

"Shinra!" Izaya snaps. "How dare you! It's not always my fault, nobody can predict what that idiotic protozoan is going to do! And to be quite honest, I don't give a fuck if, just don't blame me." He says coldly, his frozen crimson orbs challenging Shinra's. His fists are clenching and unclenching under his arms where they've been crossed, but he doesn't resort to violence, it's too blow him. Instead he glowers and warns the other through his body language. "I'm leaving." He mutters under his breath as he stands and attempts to move away. But his limbs are suddenly tangled in a swath of shadows and Celty's PDA has been thrust into his face and then Shinra's.

['Stop it! Both of you, stop it! Stop being so stubborn and stop shouting! This is not entirely Izaya's fault and neither is it Shinra's or mine. But we all need to take responsibility… I don't know what's going on right now, but we need to stick together. Even you too, Izaya. If not for Shizuo, then for Shinra. You're best friends so grow up, the both of you!']

Izaya plops back into the chair with a quiet huff. He looks over at Shinra, sees how he's hunched over again and purposely labouring his breaths to calm down and his glare instantly melts. He hates Shizuo, hates him like a God hates the Devil and yet he doesn't make another move to leave, instead sitting on the sofa and reaching out for his friend's shoulder. He says nothing as he shuffles closer and gently rests his palm on the tense shoulder, offering a light smile in which Shinra returns. The three of the sit in silence after that, just breathing in each other's presence, cooling off and calming down and really, the silence doesn't feel half bad. That is until they hear the quiet sounds from down the hall way. It's just a murmur at first, but the noise quickly escalates into something akin to a whimper or cry. Shinra gets up and rushes down the corridor quickly and Izaya's in disbelief with a frown marring his face, because Shizuo is the only one down there, because in the few seconds the door to Shizuo's room was open, the sounds peaked and he could clearly hear the sobs that reverberated against his ears. That's not right, he thinks to himself, because Shizuo's a monster, and monsters don't cry. Monster's aren't allowed to be scared or sad when they frighten and sadden others. Monster's aren't allowed to feel.