A/N: You know, just in case anyone thought I was a good person,

ENJOY!

Summary: Just because one has a phone doesn't mean one has the courage to use it.

It's never a good sign when you're counting. It implies waiting for something.

It's been three weeks and six days. It doesn't hurt.

Then again, he'd sort of just expected Izaya to call. Because there's no way that he would just let Shizuo go, just let everything fall apart. But he did.

And he still is.

Shizuo's fingers curl around the rim of his bottle of milk, straining the glass. He can feel it almost bending beneath his relatively light grip. It's eleven at night, he should be asleep. Hell, he shouldn't be still dressed in his work clothes, he should be okay by now. He shouldn't feel so fucking miserable.

You did the right thing, the right thing. For Izaya, for yourself, for everyone.

A month, he's almost made it a month without seeing Izaya. Without caving. He doesn't even know why he wants to go back, he just does. Shizuo wishes that he'd had something with Izaya to hold on to, something more tangible than whispered promises he always broke. Now he's here, back in his cold living room, alone.

They never had anything to hold on to, just something they could never name. The same something that makes his heart feel too small, too cold. In pain like a snake is squeezing it tight.

He used to be satisfied with this, just a cigarette and his own company when the nights drew out and everything was quiet. Then Izaya stumbled into his life in a new way, not with knives flashing and words cutting, but with glassy eyes and a bottle of sake clutched in his hand. He hadn't snuck into Shizuo's mind with his clever speech and narrowed eyes, he'd crashed into Shizuo's heart and hadn't let the man shake him away.

Compulsively, Shizuo glances at the phone. It sits there, ever silent. Not a single text from Izaya, not a call. Really, he's not sure what he expected. Why did he ever think that Izaya would miss him? Why was he so conceited to think that the raven-haired man would want him to stick around. After what he did, after how badly he fucked up…

The image of Izaya's body, limp and unconscious, still burned into his head.

Shizuo can't help but relive that day, the anger already in his blood, not an excuse, just a fact. It had been over something stupid, a few words that hadn't sat right with him. From Celty of all people, so innocent yet they had worked their way under his skin like nothing else could.

[I still can't believe Izaya would genuinely choose to be around you.]

He had known, deep down, that Celty had been just throwing around words. She hadn't meant them in any way other than a ponderous comment. But Shizuo had seen something else. He'd seen his own inadequacy.

And it had pissed him off because he'd been doing his best not to hurt Izaya. He'd been doing better, only broken a few things, hadn't physically hurt Izaya once in two weeks. Shizuo would get pissed, beyond pissed, but Izaya hadn't been left bleeding and bruised so it had all been okay.

But this one comment had ruined it.

Izaya, with all his infuriating and treacherous personality traits, had thought teasing Shizuo about it would be a great idea. Every word biting because part of Shizuo had believed them, still believes them if this forced separation is any indication. The Flea had just kept on making it worse. And that creep of red at the corners of Shizuo's vision had started coming back. The rage obscuring all his reasons for treating Izaya right.

This time it hadn't been one of Izaya's secretary's many binders. It hadn't been a half-full bottle of milk or a cold cup of coffee left behind by one of Izaya's clients. It hadn't been a chair or even a table.

No, it had been Izaya. The man had just gotten too close, and Shizuo hadn't been able to see through the red or hear past the rushing in his ears. In that moment, he'd lost it. His hand had shot out, knocking the man away from him.

Except he was Shizuo Heiwajima and he couldn't remember the last time he'd hit someone lightly.

Izaya had gone flying, sailing across the room. It had been as if time slowed, letting Shizuo see what was about to happen while at the same time keeping him from preventing it. He'd watched as Izaya twisted in mid-air, throwing a hand out as if to stop himself. What Shizuo remembered most vividly was the look of fear on Izaya's face as he hurtled towards his extremely sturdy desk.

The Raven's wrist had bent at an odd angle as his head slammed into the corner of the desk before the rest of him caught up and careened into the hardwood. The sound of a sickening crack, Izaya's body falling limply to the ground as time snapped forward, throwing Shizuo back into the present.

For a terrible moment, in the seconds it took for him to get to Izaya, Shizuo had thought, no, known, that he'd killed the man at last and he'd felt true fear course through his body. Then he'd picked the man up, cradled him in his arms, and found the pulse. Blood had stained the front of Shizuo's shirt as he'd gently held Izaya close, fear and self-loathing still filling him.

Almost killed him, almost snuffed out the surprisingly fragile light that was Izaya Orihara.

Then and there, he'd realized that enough was enough, if he didn't leave, he was going to end up killing Izaya. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have cared, now, it was the most terrifying thought in the world. At least if he was gone, Shizuo had reasoned, at least then Izaya would be okay. Alone but alive.

He hadn't realized how much it would hurt, he hadn't fully understood how much he cared about the space in his life that had become entirely Izaya. Not until it was gone, not until he was forced to spend every night alone, wishing he hadn't fucked it all up so badly.

Except part of him had expected for the phone to ring. The day it happened when Shinra had called to tell him that Izaya had asked after him, seemed worried about him, Shizuo had expected Izaya to call, text, something. But he hadn't heard a word. Nothing. So Shizuo had decided that Izaya was probably still pissed at him. Rightly so, he deserved a lot worse.

But then the second day had come with no word. Then the third. By the fourth, it had started to sink in. Izaya was done with him, Shizuo had screwed up, left, and Izaya didn't want him back. Perfectly reasonable, hell, he'd asked for it, but it hurt.

It hurts a lot.

Fumbling with his pack, Shizuo manages to fish out a cigarette and hold it between his lips while he lights up. The nicotine does nothing to help him, it just makes everything hazy, distorted.

Honestly, he doesn't know why he keeps waiting, doesn't know why he still stares at his phone, praying for Izaya to call. Why bother, the man is clearly done with him.

And rightly so. Shizuo almost killed him. Going back would be signing Izaya's death warrant. He can't keep his temper in check, he can't control himself. He's tried, attempted everything short of medication but nothing helps and pills are only so good until his freak-like body builds up a tolerance and he loses it again.

If Izaya happens to be in the crosshairs, Shizuo shudders to think about what might happen. Except he knows, he knows he's going to run over to another unconscious body, but this time, he's not going to find a pulse. He'll be trying to staunch the blood but it won't be the torn hem of his shirt over a shallow gash, it'll be and arm or a leg, twisted and mangled into a shape that's completely unrecognizable. It'll be worse and he won't be able to do anything about it.

But he doesn't want to just forget, he wishes he had the guts to call Izaya. Shizuo knows that Izaya won't answer, he doesn't care. If he ever did, he's moved on. That's fine, I don't fault him for that. I'm the one who almost killed him. I'm the one-

Taking a long drag, Shizuo blows out a stream of smoke and forces himself to focus on the TV. It drones on, boring, unintelligible. I'm going to forget, I'm going to let this go. It's his constant mantra, ever-present refrain but it's a lie. Deep down, it always will be.

Another glance at the phone, another wish that he'd done something, anything different. Another with that Izaya wouldn't have forgotten him so soon. Another prayer that he's happy without Shizuo around.

Of course he is, why shouldn't he be? Images of Izaya's bright eyes and mischievous smile flash through his mind. Frustrated with himself, Shizuo glares at the floor, wishing he could just get over it.

Forever? Until it really is a good thing?

He feels like tearing out his hair.

Shizuo hardly thinks as he almost knocks his coffee table over lunging for his phone. I want to call him, I want this stupid thing to be over. But he can't do that, he can't call. There is one thing he can do, however, one thing that'll at least make this more final.

What would I even say to him? Shizuo thinks bitterly as his fingers fumble with the tiny screen. What did I even want from that not-a-relationship anyway? Hadn't they always repeated that they didn't know what it was? Hadn't they always said the words over and over again? If he could say one thing to Izaya, what would it be?

Hey Izaya,

He searches through his short list of contacts for Izaya's number. Still labeled Flea because he hadn't been able to think of anything better to write down at the time and it had fit.

I'm sorry I'm violent and dangerous. I'm sorry I hurt you when I blow up.

Finding it, he brings it up. Izaya had imputed most of the information. Including a stupid-ass picture of himself grinning at the camera. Looking happy, genuinely joyful to be where he was. With Shizuo, not a care in the fucking world.

I really care about you Izaya. I don't know why, I don't know how, I just do.

Scrolling down, he finds what he's looking for. He grits his teeth around his cigarette, trying to push the pain down. It's not going to change anything, it's all over anyway, just get it over with. Pressing the button, Shizuo waits.

I don't deserve anything, you deserve much better than me.

The message flashes on his screen, forcing him to make the same decision again.

But give me a chance to stand by your side Izaya, please.

[Are you sure you wish to DELETE this number?]

Let me figure out why being around you makes me feel so fucking happy.

His finger hovers over the yes button, his heart thuds painfully in his chest.

And why being away from you hurts so much.

Shizuo swallows hard, hating this, hating everything. Hating himself for being such a coward. If the number's gone, I can start to forget. But forgetting is impossible, how can Shizuo forget something so good?

Stay with me Izaya, give me another shot at making this something worth keeping.

Please.

Suddenly, his phone rings.

Almost dropping the device, Shizuo squints at the screen and feels his heart leap uncomfortably. Fear, apprehension, hope, emotion, it all crowds at the back of his throat as he stares at the name. Flea.

Izaya, calling him.

He wishes he could say that he had to think about it, wishes he could say it wasn't an easy choice but that would be a lie. Instantly, Shizuo picks up.

"I-Izaya?" he croaks, staring sightlessly at the wall, waiting breathlessly for a response. Just the sound of his voice through the tiny receiver. I'm obsessed, I'm crazy.

I'm not going to make the same mistakes again.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya's voice is flat, tired. Through his overwhelming relief, Shizuo feels a prickling at the base of his skull. Something about Izaya's tone is off, wrong. Before he can ask, however, Izaya cuts him off.

"Isn't the moon beautiful tonight?"

A/N: Okay, but seriously, the next chapter is going to hurt.

I'm going to kill every single hope you have. And I won't even feel bad.

I'm off my meds...