Ahh, I'm writing this story as pure FLUFF. Sometimes, it's good to have things happy and light. Especially since I haven't done a Shizaya in a little while and I'm about to get into the deep parts of my DelHibi. So, here we go!

Disclaimer: I do not own the song 'The Old Apartment' by the Barenaked Ladies, nor do I own Durarara! or any of the characters... You know what? NO! I own Izaya! He's MINE! *gets shot by men in suits*

Izaya: Um... On with the story!

The Old Apartment

[Broke into the old apartment. This is where we used to live. Broken glass, broke and hungry, broken hearts and broken bones. This is where we used to live.]

Every now and then, Izaya Orihara still pisses me the fuck OFF. He gets so ridiculous about the most random things! Today's fiasco? I forgot to place the towel on the towel rack.

"Shizu-chan! You'll give our bathroom a mildew smell and I refuse to bathe in such a filthy environment!"

I have to hear this shit A LOT. I hear his voice in my head all the time.

"I don't help you pay rent so you can smoke inside and dirty both of our lungs!"

"You have to actually WASH your hair, Shizu-chan."

"My body is NOT your plaything, Shizu-chan."

All the time. ALL the time.

It's strange, but whenever I get mad at him, I find myself going toward his old apartment in Shinjuku. I moved in with him when we got as serious as we were ever going to get, but after a year we moved out and bought a bigger apartment in Ikebukuro. He said it was better to have a place that was both of ours, but I always thought both places were both of ours. I haven't gotten used to the new place yet. We've only been there a little while.

I come to the old apartment all the time... But this is the first time I've actually broken in.

[Why did you paint the walls? Why did you clean the floor? Why did you plaster over the hole I punched in the door? This is where we used to live.]

Izaya was always so clean and tidy about everything. In our old place, he always went behind me and fixed everything. I got mad once and actually punched the bedroom door because he wouldn't let me move my couch in from my old place. He said it was gaudy and smelly. I suppose I overreacted.

I step into the old place. No one lives here yet. Everything is tidy, but it's not...home. I feel cold as I look at the bare hardwood floors, the empty counter space, the silence deafening my ears. I can still see him in the kitchen on the phone with his boss.

"Yes, Shiki-san, I'm tracking him now."

It was always like that. Izaya chose work over almost everything. It's just how he was. We only had one eccentric neighbor. She was an elderly woman who lived below us. Izaya loved to bother her on purpose, because that's what he loves to do.

[Why did I have to break in? I only came here to talk. This is where we used to live.]

I sigh as I run my hand through my yellow hair. I don't know why I came here. What was I expecting to find? All of our memories here are over. This isn't home anymore.

I guess I just... I like things that are familiar. I wanted to see where I fell in love with him. I wanted to see the place where we first kissed...hugged...made love. I wanted that so much. But... All I see is where we don't live anymore. Why do I run to the past? Because the future is scary. I've always been this way.

I don't like change that much.

I turn when I hear the door open. Izaya is there.

"I knew I'd find you here." he smirks. Damn louse thinks he knows everything.

"Yeah, I know." I sigh.

He walks up to me and looks around.

"Seems empty, ne?"

"It does. It's not the same. It's not home."

He looks up at me, his carmine eyes gleaming.

"It's our old home, Shizu-chan. Anywhere with you...is home."

[Only memories, fading memories, blending into dull tableaux. I want them back.]

I wrap my arms around his slender frame. He's right. Since he walked in, I feel so much better about this place. It's not cold anymore. Even if he drives me crazy, he's all mine. It makes me not so afraid of chance anymore. It makes me feel brave.

Damn flea. He's my home too.

We leave the old apartment, heading back to our new home in Ikebukuro. His hand is in mine. It reminds me that he'll always be mine.

That, at least, is one thing that will never change.

[I want them back. This is where we used to live. I want them back... I want them back.]