[2]

I wished him back into my existence. As I thought, feeling so strongly about a person, especially Iza - the flea -, can never be good.

This is the only explanation Shizuo has as he heads down the stairs- how else would the informant be on his couch? How else would his sanctuary be ruined? It always, always came back to Izaya.

To think he could've had a life without Izaya is just another sign of how stupid he is.

But maybe it's his own fault, for wishing Izaya back. Once again, he couldn't control himself.

He hopes, almost, that his living room is empty. But there's a body swaddled in blankets on his couch, a body with moving lips.

Guess I didn't wish hard enough.

"Why's Shizu-chan here in the dark?" Izaya says quietly, as if he was holding something very fragile. "Were you watching me sleep?"

Shizuo doesn't answer. Instead, he lights up a cigarette, almost automatically, and sits down. Words are struggling to break through but he keeps his mouth clamped on the cigarette, tries to think of the taste of nicotine and not the taste of Izaya.

"Your eyes look orange," Izaya murmurs, before reaching out and palming the cigarette. The informant sits up, crushes it underneath his bare feet, gives a wan smile. "Your whole floor is covered with stains like that, you know."

Izaya puts his head back down, into Shizuo's lap. "Does this bother you, Shizu-chan?"

"I've changed, Izaya." Shizuo says, slowly turning each word over in his mouth. If this had happened three years ago - if someone had said, "You and Izaya will be in the same room and live," he would've laughed before socking the idiot in the gut. But now, he's fighting to keep his hands from running through Izaya's hair. It's dried unevenly, with some parts of Izaya's hair fluffing up while the rest is still damp. Shizuo lights up another cigarette, keeping his hand out of Izaya's reach, but the informant doesn't grab for it again. It's almost like I've totally forgotten everything we went through; I haven't, but I still want to touch him.

"So I've noticed. Does Shizu-chan destroy other things now? Now that he can't put his hands all over me," Izaya says, tone innocent. Shizuo stares at him, thinking that three years have suddenly rushed up and closed the distance between them, thinking that nothing can ever be enough. As it is, he's wishing Izaya's face would be closer. Why are you trying to start this again, he wants to say, but that would only give the flea more power.

"I fish," Shizuo finally replies. "And my name here is Tsugaru. Not Shizu-chan."

A slow smile spreads across Izaya's face. It's playful, almost like there's a secret just between the two of them. "That's why you dyed your hair, isn't it? Because you're Tsu-chan now!"

"And you," Shizuo says, "are going to be out of this house when I come back." The threat sounds hollow even to his own ears - Izaya knows his new name now, where he lives. Why, why divulge such things to an enemy? He brings his hand up and tugs at his hair; he hadn't dyed it, really, just once to get his natural color back. He'd let his roots take over, then. Frowning, Shizuo remembers the first day of having his hair back. It was almost like looking like an alien. Like he wasn't Shizuo Heiwajima anymore, whose yellow hair shone brightly enough to blind. He was ordinary now, plain and brown, and that - that was good, wasn't it?

Honestly, he'd just accepted that he would trudge through the rest of his days.

"Where's Shizu-chan going?"

"To fish." Shizuo stretches. "To make a living honestly." He steps away from Izaya, though for some reason, he wants to turn back to look at him.

"Don't bring back any bodies," Izaya says lightly. "Or I'll be jealous."

Shizuo's walking away by then, forcing himself not to look - so maybe that's why he messes up, nodding in reply to Izaya's inane request. But maybe in the dark, Izaya didn't see.

Izaya's soft chuckle says otherwise.

It's cold outside but still bright, the wind whipping his hair in front of his eyes. His favorite kind of weather. Heading back down the docks, Shizuo gazes out at the calmed sea. Hours ago, Izaya had been bobbing in the water, swallowing salt water and close to death. The ocean would've done what Shizuo couldn't.

Does the ocean ever fall in love? It meets so many people all the time. Fuck, I'm thinkin' weird shit.

Shizuo spends a good half an hour just sitting on his boat, clutching a net in his hands. Holding the netting is reminiscent of having his hands around Izaya's neck, and Shizuo slowly practices breathing. The netting still tears, and he stares at it, feeling almost numb, hopeless.

"I've come a long way," he says quietly to himself, because he needs to hear it. "From 'bukuro to Kamogawa, from twenty-five to… almost thirty…"

Maybe I'm lonelier than I thought. Isn't it bad when your days blur together like this?

Shizuo finds himself missing Celty. She, of all people, would know what to say, would know about time passing by so painfully but so quickly. Almost thirty. His pain, Shizuo muses, can't even be close to hers.

Shizuo takes the long route back to the house, even indulging in some small talk with the girl at the small bakery. As usual, she offers him samples, and as usual, he politely declines. He lingers outside his own door for a moment, then breathes to steel himself.

Three years without Izaya, three years alone in a quiet place - he can't let it go to waste.

Izaya is still in the house. Somehow the man's acquired a laptop (Shizuo has a feeling his wallet is going to be lighter when he finds it) and is typing away with one hand, scribbling notes with the other.

"I need your lighter later," Izaya says without looking up from the screen. Need was a word Izaya had once claimed to hate, calling it weak. But perhaps to ask with such authority in his voice countered that, or maybe Izaya had changed.

That thought, Shizuo thinks gloomily, keeps coming back to me. Like I want him to be different. He'll be here till he recovers and that's all.

So he leaves the lighter by Izaya's hand, and goes upstairs, breathing shallowly. He's reading a book when Izaya comes upstairs and sits at the edge of the bed.

"Shizu-chan can read!" Izaya exclaims, pressing his cheek to Shizuo's shoulder. "Why're you reading about birds?"

Shizuo turns a page. He doesn't see the words detailing the habits of a brown sicklebill, but the text messages Izaya used to send to him, almost like they were printed on paper.

As a fisherman, Shizuo's seen the ocean dredge up some pretty strange things. But he never knew his mind was the same: like the tides, memories of Izaya come flowing back as the man sits next to him, memories he'd tried to keep deep underwater.

"I'd rather be a be a bird of prey than a bird of paradise," Izaya quips as he looks at the book's pictures. "Shizu-chan would be a loud bird. With yellow feathers."

"What do you remember of 'bukuro," Shizuo ends up asking abruptly, meaning What do you remember of us?

"Everything," Izaya says. "Does Shizu-chan remember anything?"

"Yeah," Shizuo says hesitantly. He wants to tell Izaya that he remembers the cold winter nights where they'd sit on overturned vending machines, when Izaya would playfully wrap his fur coats around Shizuo's shoulders. He wants to tell Izaya he never forgot the feeling of stop signs in his hands, the pure adrenaline that would take them from the streets of Ikebukuro to Shinjuku. He wants to tell Izaya that when the city expelled them, everything suddenly felt like it was just a dream and he couldn't remember if it was all real or not. Couldn't remember where Izaya's lies started and ended. But he can't say any of this, so he tries to search Izaya's face for clues. Nothing - just as expected.

"But you like it here, don't you? You're quiet now, just like Kamogawa." Izaya asks. "Isn't this boring, Shizu-chan? Isn't it that when people get what they yearn for, they realize that it isn't what they wanted after all?"

"Are you talking about yourself, now?" Shizuo shuts his book, turning away. He can feel color rising to his cheeks, and fuck, it's really been three years, three years of feeling nothing until now. "You're just trying to piss me off."

"I think that's just you missing me, Shizu-chan."

"Shut up!"

They never tell you how to turn your brain off, never tell you how to stop yourself from wishing someone back into existence. He was going to die Izaya was going to die but my body moved -

He's breathing hard, almost feeling like he'd choke. He can feel his palms growing wet from where his nails have broken skin. Izaya, he knows, can probably smell the blood, and a memory of Izaya bandaging his shoulder makes his anger flare up all the more strongly.

(oh, sweet Shizu-chan)

"An animal can't stay pent up for long," Izaya says, mouth curved in a sly smirk. Shizuo had wondered if Izaya could read minds, once, and he wonders now what Izaya would say if he knew what Shizuo was thinking. Maybe Izaya could make sense of the wreckage that was his thoughts.

"And a flea can't stop running it's irritating mouth. Buzz off somewhere else, Izaya; I don't want you here." Shizuo heads to the door, focused on the pack of cigarettes downstairs. He almost runs, trips down the stairs trying to get to his pack.

"Tsu-chan will let me stay here unless he wants his new town to know all about him," Izaya calls cheerfully. "If that's alright."

"I'll break your neck!" Shizuo shouts back, the ugly words freezing him in place as they leave his mouth. Izaya only laughs, and Shizuo hastily lights a cigarette before heading outside, back into the cold.

I can't stay there with him, but I can't leave. Something only tells me this guy will end up with me again.

He hears the door open, then close, and there's Izaya down by his shoulder. The informant suddenly looks somber.

"Shizu-chan." Izaya says softly. "Give me a chance, ne?"

Shizuo eyes the area, sees nobody. With a barely suppressed hiss, he pulls Izaya back into the house and slams him against the wall, hand closed around soft, pulsing skin.

"Why the fuck would I, when you landed us in this mess? Why would I, when you've never done anything but take advantage of me?" Shizuo squeezes, hating that he relishes the color Izaya's face is turning, the slight widening of the man's eyes. "I guess you're still the same and always will be, thinkin' you can just waltz back like this. Well, you fuckin' can't. You can live here but don't you dare expect anything from me. I don't want to hear anymore of your stupid comments, just live here quietly and let me have my peaceful life back."

"Ah, Shizu-chan really is like the sea he lives by," Izaya manages. "Calm one moment, wild the next."

"Don't smile at a time like this!" Shizuo releases Izaya, tries to keep Shinra's (god, why Shinra, why now) last words out of his head,

(I think it's because Izaya really fell for you, Shizuo)

but he can't.