After the first three knocks, an uttered string of curses and ruffling before the familiar jingle of keys. The lock shakes a little before the door jolts right open. Shinra steps through the entrance and tosses his bag and first aid kit off to the side carelessly, retiring to the couch and throwing himself on it after a long day of work. His arm reaches for the TV remote and he switches the television on. For a moment, it's just Shinra, himself, and the background noise of the daily news. He relishes in the calm and peace for a solid minute. The question of Izaya's whereabouts crosses his mind for a passing moment, but nothing more than that. Maybe he's just taking a shit.
An hour later, and there's still nothing.
He gets up in spite of the nagging voice telling him to continue lazily lounging on the couch. "Hey, Izaya, where you at?"
Shinra waits for a reply but receives nothing but radio silence. Exasperated, the underground doctor pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and starts looking through the house.
First, the kitchen - nothing.
Then, he goes down the hallway to his room where the computer is. The door is ajar, and he pushes it open inquisitively. The putrid stench of bile hits him full force; it's enough to churn his stomach, but it's hardly the worst thing (and far from the most shocking) thing in that room. Right there, on the floor, lies a shaking and sweaty mess. A trembling head of raven hair, slick like tar and black as singed coals. His knees are pulled up to his chest like he's trying to hide, mouth hanging open as though screaming don't hurt me like this anymore, please; hands up to his ears to block out voices that Shinra can't quite hear, but they're shaking too much to actually tune anything out. The room is soundless, save for the husk of a body's shuddery, heavy breathing. A glass figure - fragile; shattered with the most delicate of touches, though not so mesmerizing as disturbing. The bile starts pooling up on the carpet, and somehow all Shinra can think about is how much of a pain in the ass it's gonna be to clean it up later.
The glow of his desktop screen grabs Shinra's attention. Pulled up on it is a news article, and from such a distance, he can only read the headline.
Gruesome Sex Tape Spreads on Social Media
Ah.
He turns around and shuts the door behind him, leaving Izaya to cope by himself. Celty had always been better than him with those sorts of matters anyway. She has empathy, he doesn't. Makes him wonder who the real monster is between Celty and him.
Walking to the living room, Shinra pulls out his phone from the pocket of his lab coat and texts Celty. When are you coming home?
The reply comes after about two minutes. Won't be home for another few hours. Why?
Izaya's having a little accident.
You're the doctor here.
My dad never taught me how to fix a fractured ego.
Is it important?
Not really lmao.
It isn't like Izaya's dying or anything. Sure, he's not exactly the dictionary definition of perfectly fine, but as far as Shinra can tell, he's not going to die. Not physically anyway, but then again, Izaya Orihara always needed to be knocked down a peg with that filthy god complex. Izaya Orihara is human, just like the rest of them, and Shinra can't help but feel as though that's an overdue lesson or perhaps maybe even karma; not to say that anyone deserves such a beating or bruising.
Exiting out of his text conversation with Celty, the doctor presses on the call app and dials in Shizuo's number. As much as Shizuo hates Izaya, Shinra's sure that he can handle this better. A few seconds elapse before there's a click.
"Hello?" Shizuo's voice comes from the speaker.
"Shizuo."
"Yeah, Shinra?"
"Can you come over?"
After a moment of hesitation, "Just got off work, so yeah. Why?"
"You'll see. It's urgent, so please do hurry." Shinra can't help but chuckle at the disgruntled grumbling coming from Shizuo's end before he hangs up.
Shizuo had never exactly heard Shinra call something urgent. That in and of itself is worrying enough.
He's not exactly in a rush, but damn, could the cab driver not be such a wuss about passing up the speed limit? He's also certainly taking his time when he threatens to "punch the fucking lights" out of the next jay walker, and when he power walks (not runs) to Shinra's front door. The drive from Russia Sushi to Shinra's house usually takes about half an hour, but he's at the doc's front door knocking within fifteen minutes flat. Shinra looks almost delighted when he opens the door.
"Shizuo!" comes his usual (almost obnoxious) cheerful greeting. "Come in."
The tall man enters the property mumbling crass, filthy words under his breath and then turns to Shinra. "So what's the emergency?"
"Follow me." His friend's expression darkens, cold and grim. He leads Shizuo down the hallway and stops at one of the doors, but doesn't open it quite yet. As they walk, he explains, "Called you because I don't have the sympathy or the emotional capacity for this."
Shizuo has his moments where brawn triumphs over brain but he isn't an idiot, or at least not enough of one that he can't put two and two together. Eyes narrowed to slits behind his shades, he inquires almost accusingly, "Is this about Izaya?"
Shinra's silence is enough of an answer.
"You know I can't fucking stand that flea." Shizuo turns around with a hostile growl; pinches the bridge of his nose between two twitching fingers, "Forget it. He hates my god damn guts and the feeling is mutual."
"Shizuo, can you put aside your petty little feud for a second and…" A careful pause, "evaluate the situation before coming to conclusions?"
"The shithead almost got me in jail and tried to ruin my life. I don't owe him anything."
"Fine. If you hate Izaya that much, consider this a favor for me then." Shinra fingers close on the door knob. "I can't just let him freeload here forever but I'd feel bad kicking a broken man out of my home."
"Broken?" The ex-bartender snorts, "You boot him out and I bet he'll just be plaguing the streets the next morning ruining some other stranger's life. Only thing that's gonna be broken is those poor souls that get involved with h-"
"That's not true and you know it."
"The hell do you mean? He's been doing that for the past twenty fucking years."
Shinra sighs, "Alright, you go see what's in this room, look me in the eyes, and tell me he's going to be alright if we let him be."
"Well, gee, who's more cut out for this empathy shit now?" Shizuo drawls sarcastically and pushes past Shinra into the room.
Fifteen minutes later and not much has changed about the place since Shinra's call, except now Izaya isn't bathing in his own puke; he's moved from the floor to the farthest corner of the room.
Shizuo's favorite informant is (much to his own chagrin) alive and breathing, at the very least, but there's something about him that's dead. Maybe it's the way he has his knees curled up to his chest, arms limp at his sides, head tilted back against the wall and eyes closed. Perhaps such a spectacle would've seemed peaceful to an outsider, but to Shizuo it's more haunting than anything. He gathers that he likes Izaya better energetic and running away than stationary and pathetic like this. Even from across the room, Shizuo can hear the labor behind every breath, the excessive effort put behind it like it's the only thing Izaya can do to stop himself from screaming.
And after all that, past the disgusting stench of vomit and sweat, past the disturbing sight of his nemesis trembling and curled up in a corner, the only words Shizuo can muster are: "What the hell happened?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out." Shinra chirps as he leaves the room.
It fucking reeks. He wishes that Shinra at least gave the room a few sprays of Febreeze before making him come in.
He turns his attention back to the slumped Izaya and crouches by him. Shizuo puts a hand on Izaya's shoulder, starting to shake it a little to snap him out of whatever crazy daze he's in.
"Don't touch me." The informant's eyes shoot open at the touch, wild and unstable. Izaya's hand reflexively shoots up to aggressively swat him away.
"Good morning to you, too." Shizuo sneers, drawing his hand back.
"Oh, it's you." Izaya's shoulders relax as he heaves out a sigh, voice weary and tired. "What are you doing here?"
"Shinra called me over. What's wrong?"
He raises an eyebrow as if to ask back: what isn't? but after what seems to be heavy contemplation, he finally replies blankly, "Nothing."
"Bullshit." Shizuo spits out. "If you're gonna lie to my fucking face, at least make it convincing."
It's just for a second, but Izaya's flinch doesn't escape Shizuo's eyes. He looks up and holds his gaze, cold and steely - oddly steady, Shizuo can't help but notice - as his eyebrows knit together in thought. A small smile spreads across his features, forced and sad. "That's my answer: nothing. If you don't like it, what do you want me to say instead?"
"I want you to be honest with me."
"You wouldn't understand."
Izaya doesn't say it, but Shizuo can understand the underlying meaning behind the words.
(You're a monster, you shouldn't.)
"Try me," he challenges anyway.
Izaya stops for a second. "No."
"I can't help you if you don't let me."
"Maybe I don't need help."
The bodyguard raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe I don't want it." Izaya spits, cold and acidic. His lips forcibly curl; a sad imitation of his usual mischievous smirk. "Since when were you so emotionally invested in my wellbeing? What happened to caving my skull in with a vending machine?"
Shizuo flinches back, feels mixed emotions he can't quite give a name. Is it surprise or hurt? A mix of both? Some kind of unsettled. He says the first words that come to mind. "Fuck you."
Izaya doesn't know what he was expecting.
"God forbid someone actually cares about you, Izaya." The blond starts storming out the door, turns his head as his hand rests on the door and he's already ready to leave. "Sorry for giving a shit. You wanna be on your own? Fine."
"Fine." Izaya replies callously, but not before Shizuo's already long gone. Not before the door slams shut with an ear-splitting boom, chips of wood splintering off with the sheer force.
Some things are better left forgotten anyway.
Because Izaya doesn't have another way to deal with the pain.
"For you."
Shinra slides a cardboard box over dining the table to him the next day at dinner. Izaya takes it in his hands and opens the box to see a phone with a piece of folded up paper on it. He opens up the paper and sees a 10-digit number.
"For me?" He questions.
"Yeah. Since you don't have one anymore. It's the least I could do."
A stunned look makes its way to his face, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. After a long period of silence, "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Shinra watches him toy around with the flip phone as though gauging his reaction.
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"You got Shizu-chan's number?" He thinks about the way things left off.
An amused smile spreads across the doctor's face. "Yeah."
(2:39pm) Hellooo!
(2:39pm) who the fuck are you
(2:40pm) Oh, c'mon, Shizu-chan~
(2:40pm) GUESS :3c
(2:41pm) damn flea
(2:41pm) how did you get my number
(2:41pm) Shinra gave me it wwwww
(2:44pm) I overheard your call with Shinra
(2:45pm) Why so angry, Shizu-chan? :)
(2:46pm) im blocking your number
(2:46pm) Whaaat?! Nooo ._.
(2:55pm) Shizu-chan?
(4:19pm) HELLOOOOOOOOOOO
Incoming call from fucking flea
Shizuo gives his phone screen a blank stare. Just when he starts to forget about Izaya Orihara, he comes back like an annoying rash. His finger hovers over the decline button for just a moment, then accepts it with a sigh as he brings the flip phone up to his ear. "Hello?"
"Shizu-chan!"
"What do you want?" He's five seconds away from hanging up.
A nervous chuckle comes from the other end of the line. "Are you mad at me?"
"For what?"
"For… never mind." A few seconds before Shizuo remembers.
"Oh." He sighs; gives a thoughtful pause before finally saying. "I don't know what the hell is going on with you, but it's none of my business. You don't have to tell me shit."
Awkward silence.
"Is that all?"
"No."
"What else?"
"Don't know."
"... Are you just wasting my time on purpose?"
"No."
"Then what the hell's on your mind?"
A huff comes from the other line before Izaya's voice chirps, playful and amused. "It's just that I never thought we'd be able to talk on the phone like this."
"Like this?"
"Y'know. I'm not making you mad, you're not at my throat - well, I guess you physically can't be anyway since we're on the phone, but I'm sure you would've found a way." The informant laughs. There's an uncharacteristic friendliness to it instead of the usual mocking and irksome cackle. "It's… a nice change of pace."
Shizuo has no idea what to reply with and ends up nodding instead of saying something. The conversation feels like some kind of fucked up dream because he's never thought about the day where he and Izaya would hold a civilized conversation that would amount to any sentimental value. Fuck, why are 'sentimental' and 'Izaya' even in the same sentence?
Some seconds of pure silence elapse before Izaya asks, as though unsure, "Shizu-chan?"
Fuck.
"Oh. Yeah. Uh... see ya later." Shizuo replies distantly before he hangs up, shoves the phone in his pockets, and massages his temples with his fingers out of possible dismay, embarrassment, bewilderment, or perhaps a strange mix of all three. What he does know for sure is that picking up Izaya's call was a bad move because the last thing he wants is emotional uncertainty.
Shizuo's kind of an idiot.
("Kind of" being a massive understatement.)
Maybe that's why he's bound to repeat his mistakes.
The clock at his bedside table reads 3am when his phone starts buzzing and he tries ignoring it for a solid ten seconds before relenting and rolling over to see who the hell is calling him in the middle of the fucking night.
Incoming call from fucking flea
FUCK.
The curse rings so distinctly in his head that he can almost physically see it - a red, angry, bolded, italicized, and underlined. Eyes narrowed to slits, he just stares at the ringing device trying to decide whether or not he wanted to pick up. We decided to sing songs and hold hands 12 hours ago, but if this fuckhead woke me up for a dumb reason I'm going to-
The phone clicks as Shizuo accepts the call, words coming out brash and angry. "Hello?"
His greeting comes out passive aggressive, except without the passive, though he finds his anger to be short-lived; killed off by words slurred almost to the point of incoherence and the dull thud of glass against wood. "Ineed a ride home. Too many drinks."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Nooo."
"No."
"Yeah, that's what I said."
"No. I mean, no I'm not picking you up. Get Shinra to do it."
"Shinra can't pick me up if he's already here." Izaya starts obnoxiously giggling and Shizuo wants to punch his face in.
"Where the hell are you?"
"Shinra's house."
"I'm going to kill you."
"Yeah, come over. Do it, Shizu-chan."
"You fucking crazy? Do you know what time it is?"
"Pleaaaaase." Izaya's voice drops low, a few giggles escaping his lips. He drawls sarcastically, "I'll love you forever and ever. Isn't that what you want?"
"Touching," Shizuo seethes, "but no. Goodbye."
"C'mo-"
The line gets cut off before the informant even has a chance of finishing his sentence.
(3:26am) hello
(3:26am) is it me ure looking for
(3:26am) Fuck off, I'm trying to sleep.
(3:26am) but ily
(3:27am) Die.
(3:27am) SHIZU-CHAN
(3:27am) YOU WOUND ME
Read, 3:28am.
Izaya wakes up wanting to die more than ever.
It's been a month and Izaya is still leeching off of Shinra's resources.
"Are you ever going to leave this house?" The question comes up over a cup of morning coffee.
"Probably. When I'm all better." Izaya replies cryptically. Truth be told, he hasn't given the idea much thought; kind of hard to think about the future when it feels like you don't have one. It's been far too long since he's seen the world outside of Shinra's walls, and when he remembers what happened the last time he's had fresh air, Izaya feels like he's better off without it anyway.
"All of your wounds are better. You're stable." The doctor reasons.
"Thanks to you. Any chance you could give me a new face while you're at it?"
Shinra smiles at him, eyes bright with irritatingly condescending amusement. Is this how he makes Shizuo feel? "You find shame in being the legendary Izaya Orihara?"
"It's a joke, Shinra." It's not.
"Mhm. Well, I don't want to keep you for too long. Be free."
Freedom has never been so terrifying.
"Alright, I'll pack my things."
"What things?"
"Thanks for the reminder that I have nothing but cash and the clothes on my back," Shinra cracks a smile at this remark. "asshole."
"I'll just pretend I didn't hear anything after 'thanks.'"
"Alright, that's the last of that guy's debt." Shizuo's never been more relieved to hear that from Tom as they walk back from a particularly stubborn client. Long story short, Shizuo's knuckles are beginning to swell an amalgamation of blues and purples and he just put someone through a wall that said person definitely doesn't have the money to fix. At least not anymore.
"Good." Shizuo mumbles as he lights a cigarette, "Motherfucker put up a fight every time we visited. Glad that we're never seeing him again."
"Don't jinx it," his boss warns. Meanwhile, Shizuo's phone buzzes twice in his pocket.
(11:10am) shizu-chan!
(11:10am) let me move in with you