He glances over at him, a frown fixed upon his usually gleeful features. Distress, pain, longing even, clouds his bright eyes.

He wants to grab him. Kiss him softly. Tell him that one day, all the pain will fade away...Just as things always do. He wants to make him feel content, to see a smile instead of that fixed, serious expression that always settles across his face, along with the occasional frown.

He stayed afar, knowing he could never approach him. He couldn't. Not now. Not ever...He wouldn't ever fall in love with him.

No, their priorities were too different. Their values, morales, feelings...mostly on different sides of the spectrum.

He just wanted to be loved...held.

But the other needed so much more. He was complex, a bundle of things Izaya just couldn't unravel no matter how hard he tried to comprehend his thoughts. Now matter how hard he tried change himself to accommodate to the other's fantasies, his wants and desires.

They could never be together.

"Goodbye, Shizuo."

He quickly looked away, his heart learching at the thought. He walked away, a single tear slipping down his pale skin, his jacket swaying lightly in the soft breeze.

He knew from the beginning. That this would fall apart like this. It always happened whenever he dared to care about someone other than himself. But still he pursued the other...In hopes that maybe he would care one day.

But he never did. Not the way he wanted.

He couldn't force the other to love him when he loved another. Especially if Izaya couldn't love himself.

He slowly flipped open his switchblade, the metal reflecting light from the setting sun. His heart learched again as he slipped into an alleyway. He couldn't get over him...He promised himself he wouldn't ever love another soul. There was no point in trying anymore. The only escape was to leave him forever. And the only way he could do that...was...death.

He slowly slid his jacket off, leaning against the wall and sitting down, kissing it softly as if to say goodbye to the little article of clothing that had become his faithful companion, that had always kept him warm when Shizuo wouldn't.

He clenched his fist, his hand trembling violently as he held his breath, bringing the blade closer and closer to his smooth wrist. He leaned his head back against the wall, tears cascading from his eyes. He closed his crimson orbs, letting out a heavy sigh. His breath then quickened as he looked back down, digging the blade into his tender wrist. He cried out loudly, his breath coming in pants as he dug deeper, sobbing from the pain.

Blood poured from the wound and his breath hitched. It felt like he couldn't breathe as his blade cut open veins, flesh, creating fatal wounds. Pain surged through his seemingly frail form.

He dropped the bloody blade, the world he knew spinning around as blood continued to drench his surroundings. His vision blurred, his breaths deep and slow as he began closing his eyes. He felt it. Death gripping his blood deprived heart. Death. Death and heart break.

Blood pooled on the concrete, the informant letting his body slump onto the floor. He felt himself slipping. The life he had once had being taken from him slowly. His vision was no longer just blurred, but hazed. He could barely make out anything. As he closed his eyes, he felt tears fall from his face. He opened his eyes once more.

He could've sworn he saw the silhouette of the bodyguard he had loved so dearly before he passed out and died.

Suicide.