A/N: Apologies for the wait on this chapter! With how busy everything has been with work and school, I doubt that's going to improve much in the near future, but my dedication to this fic is most definitely not faltering, and new chapters will continue to be released for a very long time.
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed since my last update! It was so exciting to see that more people are interested in this fic, and that its existing readers continue to enjoy it!
Cyan Rubies: Your reviews always make me teary not gonna lie ;u; You're far too generous with your compliments, but I'm so so glad you're so pleased with the fic so far! Namie is most definitely gonna b and Maiko will have no idea why which is just bound to be f un. Ultimately just thank you so much for always reviewing, you're a huge part of what gives me the drive to keep writing!
Anon: Thank you so much!
Denrinko: Lol, sorry to disturb your sleep! I'm so glad you're enjoying it, though! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!
"You're not the big fish in the pond no more, you're what they're feeding on. So what are you gonna do when the world don't orbit around you? Ain't it fun, living in the real world? Ain't it good, being all alone? Where you're from, you might be the one running things, where you can ring anybody's bell and get what you want. But see, it's easy to ignore trouble when you're living in a bubble. Ain't it fun, living in the real world? Ain't it good, being all alone? Ain't it good to be on your own? Ain't it fun? You can't count on no one! Ain't it fun, living in the real world? Don't go crying to your mama, 'cause you're on your own in the real world." - Paramore, Ain't It Fun
Legs crossed primly and neatly under the small table, I sat with one hand propping up my head and the other obsessively tapping on my phone screen to keep it from locking. My dark eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded, a serious lack of sleep combined with an unbelievable amount of time spent staring at bright screens taking their toll, but that was the least of my concerns as I stared down at the texts.
The evening with Izaya several days prior, despite the influx of stress and apprehension that plagued it, turned out to be the most relaxing reprieve from my other issues that I'd have for quite a while, it seemed. Alcohol was hardly a valid solution to any problem, of course, but on occasion, it really did make things easier to handle; and as the night went on, I felt more and more comfortable with him. I quickly learned that when I wasn't constantly worried about protecting myself from him or questioning his motives, spending time with Izaya was the easiest, most natural form of interaction I'd ever experienced. And while I knew it wasn't wise to let down my guard around him just to be able to enjoy that, I considered it taking an evening off from work - and that was healthy, right? It certainly felt like it then. Not only that, but seeing him after a fight with Shizuo seemed to make him more... human, at least in my eyes. Despite my eventual drunken stupor, it didn't stop me from taking note of the subtle changes in his behavior - and those subtle changes were exactly what told me how genuine his feelings on the matter were.
Somehow, seeing him legitimately affected by something made me feel better about being legitimately affected by him.
That aside, the evening was hardly enough to permanently resolve the more consistent problems in my daily life, and the more time that passed since it, the harder it was to push aside the biggest of my concerns.
For weeks now, Mikado had been relentlessly ignoring my texts. It bothered me very little at first, and the excitement with the Slasher had managed to take my mind completely off of the issue for at least a bit, but the barrage of messages I'd sent him were now only growing with no reply in sight. Looking at the long, long history of unanswered texts I'd sent, I realized that anyone else would probably feel incredibly clingy, and would be entirely justified in it - but I had more reasons than most to concern myself with where I stood with the boy.
Trying to relieve my anxiety as I contemplated the situation, I idly sent Namie a meme.
Had I done something? Had I pushed it too far with Kida; had he told Mikado? He sure had a hell of a surprise coming to him if that was the case, because if I was going down, I was taking that blond motherfucker right down with me. But as vengeful as I was, I would much rather not go down at all until it was entirely of my own volition, and whether or not that was still an option was currently held in the hands of the high school boy refusing to tell me what the hell was going on. And the rampant frustration I was feeling with that situation was exactly what left me on my third day with no sleep, sitting impatiently in a Starbucks and downing my third cup of coffee in an hour.
A Starbucks that happened to be very close to Raira. Which happened to have let out classes for the day about five minutes ago.
Unbeknownst to me, my heavy-lidded eyes had turned to half-lidded eyes and then to closed eyes altogether, and my flimsy hold on consciousness was quickly beginning to dwindle - so when the loud ding of my phone notified me of a text, I all but jumped in my chair, knocking over the (fortunately) empty coffee cup and drawing a significant amount of attention to myself. I cared about none of that, immediately staring down at the message with determined apprehension, wholly expecting and preparing for a text from Mikado. Instead, my eyes fell on a message from none other than Namie, and I was overcome with a mix of irritation, relief, and amusement.
042-9244747: I'm blocking your number.
Momentarily, I wondered if she actually would; but since I was almost entirely sure that she wouldn't have given me her number at all if Izaya wasn't paying her to keep tabs on me, I doubted that she'd go through with it out of annoyance alone. Subsequently, I shot her a 'guess I'll die' meme before pulling back up Mikado's text screen.
Nothing. I sighed, leaning back in the wooden chair and straightening up the cup I'd overturned in idle frustration. One hand running through my hair, my gaze shifted out the glass window beside me, flinching briefly at the brightness that met me on the other side before my vision refocused despite the ache. Normally, no matter how anxious any other part of my life was making me, sitting in a cafe and watching people pass by would've managed to calm me, even if only slightly; now, though, I wasn't sure if it was the sleep-deprivation or the gravity of this particular situation that was causing the change, but all I felt was annoyance with every person that passed for no reason but that they weren't Mikado.
I was easily one minute away from giving up and going home to nap when the boy in question finally passed. I had initially wondered how I would get him alone to discuss it, but it seemed that as of right now, the Dollars leader already was traveling without his friends - I grinned. Grabbing my phone from the table and locking it, I tossed the empty coffee cup in the garbage on my way out the door, no second spared as I hurried to catch up to him. I had no interest in sneaking up on him or keeping myself subtle, simply chasing after him like a cat after a mouse and calling his name until I got his attention - and while it seemed like I had when I reached his side, the boy still seemed determined to ignore me altogether. Unlike his texts (or lack thereof), however, it was clear now that this effort was accompanied by an anger I hadn't expected, presenting as a scowl and two shaky hands balled into fists.
"Mikado?" I called, tentative and confused, and the boy offered no answer aside from speeding up his walk as if to get away from me. Brow furrowed, my frustration grew, and I matched his pace with more aggression than I'd intended. "Mikado! What the hell is wrong -"
"How can you even ask that?" he demanded, spinning on his heel to face me all at once. His anger was a foreign sight to see, and it seemed like it was a foreign feeling to experience for him, too, based on the way his voice cracked and his body shook. The utter confusion and lack of understanding on my face seemed to upset him further, but at this point, I was just happy that it got me an explanation.
"You're - you're part of the Yellow Scarves! You helped me start the Dollars, you - you were my friend, and you betrayed me! You betrayed all of us! I can't believe you would join a group that just put an innocent person in the hospital!"
Right, Ryo Takiguchi. Distantly, I recalled Izaya telling me about that when I'd been drinking with him, probably to see if he could get a real reaction. But what the fuck was he talking about? I wasn't a part of-
And then it clicked.
"Who told you that?" I asked calmly and flatly, though there was an edge to my voice that hinted at a coldness I would much rather have kept from the boy.
"So it really is true!" he exclaimed, and his anger seemed to mix with so many other emotions that I could see the hint of tears forming in his eyes. And before I had a chance to stop him, he had turned away once more, and taken off in the direction he'd been heading before. I stared in frozen shock for a second, quickly snapping out of it to chase after him, but the sheer density of the crowd we were in made it impossible to get through it at all, much less while keeping my eyes on the boy and following. Breathing quickening, I started to panic, and when I tried to call out for him, my voice cracked and stopped in my throat. I was suddenly very, very aware of how many people were surrounding me, and how close they were to me, and how trapping it felt, and - and then I was hyperventilating and pushing people aside as I moved as quickly as I could back to the Starbucks.
When I arrived, I wasn't seeing straight. My vision was scattered with white dots and my body felt light and wrought with dizziness, and I didn't even notice the stares from other customers as I ran and stumbled into the bathroom. Locking myself into the first stall I could find, I sat on the toilet with no intention of using it and held my head in my hands. Running my hands through my hair in an effort to calm myself down, I breathed as deeply as I could to manage the panic as quickly as I could.
And despite the innate fear running wild in my head, for the first time, I was using it. I was using that panic to push past every inhibition and dial Izaya's number regardless of my doubts and reservations. I was shaking and terrified and barely breathing properly, but I was still functioning - if not prospering - under that stress. I was falling apart not knowing what was going to happen, but I was already building myself back up even when everything was still collapsing. And it made me feel so incredibly strong. When the informant picked up, it showed.
"What the fuck did you do?" I asked, not giving him a chance to so much as greet me - and while my voice was neither steady nor calm, it held a resilience I had never heard myself possess like this before.
"Whatever do you mean, Maiko-chan?" He answered smoothly, and I understood the phrase 'my blood ran cold' much better than I ever had before.
"Mikado," came my flat and simple reply, and I didn't need to actually see him to see that self-satisfied smirk stretch across his lips.
"Ah, I was wondering when that would finally boil over! Good to know he's not completely spineless!" the man cheered, so obviously pleased with my turmoil that I wanted to hit him. "Really, though, it's not about what I did. Humans are so quick to shift blame to someone else - it's so much easier to paint someone as a villain or a monster just to be able to pin all of their mistakes to them instead. The blame so often comes to me, but I'm rarely truly at fault - I give people choices, give them pushes in certain directions... give them what they need to meet an end. But I'm not the one who makes the choices or goes in those directions, am I? For example, I'm not the one who gave Mikado the information he needed to turn you in and make this situation so dire for you. I'm not the one who got on Kida's bad side, or went to a Yellow Scarves meeting without taking any precautions. So is it really my fault if I happened to forward some pictures of your visit there? I gave him information. I would've told him what you were really doing there, of course - he just didn't ask. Humans will always blame the person with the answers when they themselves didn't ask the right questions." I wasn't sure if his voice was full of smugness or simply self-assuredness, and I knew that he was right, but I was angry, and his goddamn monologue had only served to ignite that flame further.
"Isn't that what you do? Turn people into monsters," I asked, voice finally as flat and lifeless as I wanted it to be, breathing slowing by the sheer force of my cold anger alone. "You're so quick to brag about seeing all humans without bias, about never picking a side - but you've been failing to do that since high school. You know, Shizu-chan?" I sneered at him, and the lack of immediate response told me I had struck the nerve I was looking for. The night at the bar had reminded me of just how human Izaya's emotions could be, how dependent he still was on his fights with the blond bodyguard - and at the time, it had made me sympathetic. Now, it was ammunition. But that wasn't really my fault, was it?
"Is he really a monster, Izaya? His strength sure as fuck isn't human, yeah, but neither are your abilities. You're always in control, always watching, all-knowing - that's superhuman, too. Isn't that the problem, though?" My voice was colder and calmer than I'd ever heard it before. I waited for a response, giving him an opening to respond. He didn't take it, either out of curiosity or legitimate emotion. Either would've pleased me. I continued.
"You're just like him. People see both of you as monsters. They're scared of both of you, demonize both of you. But the difference is that despite that, he has people who love him. He has friends, he has people who see past it - at least one that I've met, anyway. But you don't. Maybe you never have, not even once. The only people you have in your life are people who hate you and only work with you because you're the best at what you do. All you have is what you can do." I heard my voice raising, beginning to shake with anger and passion as I continued. "And you can't handle it - that someone you see as worse than yourself has people who care, and you don't. So you make him a monster, because then you can tell yourself 'it's just because he's not human, it's not comparable!', and it's the only way you can keep denying the truth: that the reason you have no one has nothing to do with him. It's because no one can love someone like you, and you know it. Even someone like him is better." My words were spat at him with a venom I didn't know I was capable of, and I realized that there was a grin on my lips, so harsh and sadistic and cruel that it scared me. But I was exhilarated. I was pleased.
He was silent for longer than I'd ever heard from him, and my quickened breath began to turn into breathless and whispered giggles, too quiet for him to hear. I had won. Just this one time, this one battle, even if it meant nothing in the war - I had won.
Finally, I heard him scoff. A half-laugh, filled with what could either have been mirth or anger or something else entirely. "Perhaps I underestimated you, Maiko-chan," he spoke, voice low in a way I could only describe as tauntingly threatening. "Perhaps you're better at playing these games than I gave you credit for. Here I thought you were too drunk and self-involved to notice anything else that evening. I wonder, though; what strategy are you playing with? Just now, did you make that move just to try to hurt? To prove yourself? To get revenge? If so, you'll soon find that the small, rash victories those strategies earn you are really just beautifully dressed-up nails in your coffin - exactly the kinds of impulsive moves that sacrifice a bishop just to capture a pawn."
His words were colder and flatter than I'd ever heard, the playful tone only surface-deep, and it was that chill that they sent up my spine that told me he was not mincing words. He was not taunting me or playing me or sparing information just to get a reaction or plant a seed of destruction. This was a legitimate warning - an extension of good will on his part, to give me the real opportunity to rethink my game plan. The grin on my lips had fallen, and the expression on my face was solemn. The manic confidence I'd possessed moments before was missing altogether, and I realized something I should have concluded sooner; that as terrifying as Izaya was when he was grinning and taunting and playing, he was immeasurably more terrifying, more dangerous, when that grin fell. Silent, I simply waited for him to continue.
"One last piece of advice, Maiko-chan; let's say the ace player of a high school sports team is effortlessly better than the rest of his teammates. He doesn't have to try hard to be superior, and he knows his skill vastly outweighs theirs. Now, imagine he gets scouted and recruited to a national team. Suddenly, the skills that placed him about everyone else are commonplace - the whole team is just as good, if not better. He's average at best. You see, skill is subjective; how good a person is at something depends entirely on who they're competing against. A predator surrounded by prey is at the top of its food chain; a predator surrounded by predators has to fight just to survive. You're not playing on your chess board anymore, Maiko-chan; a pawn shouldn't be so quick to consider herself a queen."
For the majority of his advisory rant, I had managed to take a step back; to hear what he was saying as a student would listen to a teacher, rather than a victim hearing their attacker. Shaken and scared as I was, this was what I wanted, and I was thrilled to have the chance to learn from someone as experienced as him. I was grateful. Excited, even. But the last sentence and the insignificance it made me feel - that stung. And it didn't just sting. It motivated.
Because he was wrong. While the king was too busy focusing on the more prominent figures on the board, the pawn he'd dismissed was making its way to the end of the board, unnoticed until it became the queen that could change the game. I could wait. I could use the patience he was teaching me right now against him. And somehow, that made me feel blissfully warm.
"Anyway, back to the point!" His voice broke my thoughtful silence, coldness having dissipated as he seamlessly regained his previous nonchalance. "If you tell Mikado what really happened, I'll send you right back to the hospital." I wanted to vomit at how easily he uttered something so life-changing. "So you'll have to figure out some other way to fix this mess! I look forward to seeing your creativity! Bye-bye~!"
The line went dead, and the exhilarating rollercoaster of a conversation was over with the same unpredictable speed that it had taken so many turns. He'd taken the upper hand back from me as soon as I'd stolen it and used it to leave me hanging with tension and a mess of emotion hanging in the air.
I couldn't articulate how deeply I wanted to hate him.
Standing quickly with harsh disconnect, I looked at myself in the mirror of the bathroom. Hands balled into fists at my side, I felt the ache once more of my previous glass-related altercation, and the urge to do the exact same thing was overwhelmingly strong. Take the emotions out, make them physical so that they could be controlled like anything else.
Instead, I washed my hands and walked right back out. I was already numb. After all, he was quickly teaching me that I couldn't control anything - so what was the point in trying? There was nothing I could do. As it seemed, there was nothing I could do about the most important aspects of my life - but what I could do was take away the only threat anyone could hold over me by doing the worst before anyone else could.
My first instinct had been to go straight back to the hospital. Leave my stuff, say no goodbyes, just disappear back into the hospital as if nothing had happened. Retreat. Run. Escape. But my reflection in the mirror kept nagging in the back of my mind, reflecting a person I wasn't proud to be - red hair faded to a dull pink, eyes lifeless and uncaring, and a tired slouch that might as well have screamed 'self-defeat'. The girl looking back at me was not a girl who was seizing back her power the only way she could. She was just giving up.
That wasn't right. It wasn't what I wanted. And it wasn't what everything the past weeks had brought deserved. Going back like nothing had happened was a slap in the face to everything that had, and I couldn't bring myself to erase the experiences I had already learned so much from.
So my outlook changed. I wasn't giving up, I was moving forward. I wasn't throwing everything I'd learned away, I was using it to prepare for more. And I figured I'd better damn well look like it.
By the time I'd reached the hospital's parking lot, I was ready. Thanks to Izaya's poor decision to give me one of his credit cards (although I got the feeling it would be very, very hard to make a dent in the amount of money he really had) my hair was freshly cut and dyed, and my hoodie was temporarily stowed away in my backpack in favor of the simple crop top and leather jacket I'd bought during the previous hour. Along with the garments, the bag slung across my back was full of everything I needed for it to be considered an arsenal catered to my talents - ten notebooks, a few small sketchbooks, my neurology notes, a SIM card to switch out with the one I knew Izaya was tracking, and a portable charger with an exceptional capacity that was small enough to sneak in to the unit.
I was ready. I was going back. It was what I needed to do. I couldn't keep this up - I couldn't hope to win the game when the other player always and indefinitely possessed my trump card. There was nothing else to be done -
But a familiar face stopped me.
I had been prepared to face Izaya, or even Mikado - I knew I would be able to hold onto my willpower long enough not to back down to them no matter what would be said. But for some reason, seeing the blond's hunched form, leaning over on a hospital bench with his head in his hands... That was enough to stop me, if only for a few moments. Changing my route to the main entrance almost on impulse, I instead sat promptly and tiredly down beside the younger boy.
"What the hell do you want?" As soon as the venomous words left his lips, I knew that his golden eyes had recognized me, and I grinned halfheartedly before letting the expression fall.
"Nothing, Kida," I replied honestly. My voice was flatter than I expected, almost hollow; a difference significant enough to surprise him into shooting me a questioning side glance. "I mean it."
He was silent for several seconds, as if contemplating whether or not to give any credence to my statement or even indulge my company. When he did speak, it was tentative and still distant; but after years of both successful and failed manipulation, I knew what it looked like when someone believed you. "...Why are you here, then?"
"Honest coincidence. I just saw you and thought I'd say hi," I answered, and heard a scoff of derisive disbelief from the boy, prompting my addendum; "What? I never meant you any harm. I was just playin' around, man. And trying to keep myself safe."
"Seems like you two have the same definition of 'playing', then." His words were resentful. I wanted to know what Izaya did to him.
"You'd think that would, in theory, be something to bond over. It doesn't seem to be going that flawlessly in practice."
"Trouble in paradise?" The teenager's words were lacking in concern and almost entirely laced with a cold, empty sneer - like he was both understanding and pleased that his 'enemies' weren't having a super time of things.
"Wouldn't be paradise without it," I remarked back with a lazy grin, earning another scoff. "Why are you here?"
"None of your business," came his harsh retort, and I raised an eyebrow with an interested half-smile. "You didn't really tell me why you are, either."
"Most people don't notice so quickly when I evade their question." I noted, a mix of impressed and surprised.
"I have experience." His voice was a sarcastic kind of lifeless, in stark contrast with his public persona.
"Tell me more." I jeered, both sadistic and genuinely interested.
"How 'bout you just answer the question?" He repeated, sitting up from his leaning position and removing his head from his hands. His eyes looked as empty as mine felt.
"Okay," I answered lightly, the agreement coming out quieter and weaker than I thought it would. "I'm a patient here."
"You don't look sick." Kida stated flatly.
"Maybe I have cancer, dude. You don't know me." My teasingly offended tone came in response, crossing my arms sarcastically.
"Do you?"
"No," I admitted with another grin, before leaning back against the bench and releasing a sigh. "No, it's not that kind of sick. The "woo-hoo" kind of sick," I explained, making the stereotypical spinny gesture with my hand to denote crazy.
"So you're as much of a freak as he is. Not a surprise," he stated with disinterest, and I smiled more to myself than towards him. I was sincerely curious as to whether or not anything could faze this kid - more so, I wondered just what he'd been through to make him so hardened at such a young age. He cut me off, however, before I had much time to ponder. "You said that present tense, though. You are a patient."
I smiled. "Yeah. Izaya broke me out," I revealed with no semblance of inhibition or concern, no longer having any reason to worry about who did and didn't know. "Technically, I'm a fugitive."
"Why're you telling me this?" the blond-haired teen asked bluntly, turning to me with an expression that was half curious and half distrusting.
"Because it doesn't matter now. I'm here to come back." My words were flat and without feeling; I had pushed every part of me that was unsure about this to the back of my mind, but not even I could deny that while that sentence was spoken with seriousness and determination, it was not certain. I didn't want to think about that, either.
For several seconds, he was quiet, and his gaze left mine as if in thought. His brow creased with something that looked like conflict, and while I wondered what was prompting it, I relished in the comfortable silence more than anything else. I was too tired to care.
"Is it because Izaya told Mikado?"
Almost too tired to care. "What? How do you know about that?"
"He told me. It seemed like he knew somethin' more about it, or about something - but all he said was that you were with the Yellow Scarves. Obviously, I know that's not true. I can't think of anyone that would tell him that but Izaya."
I was quiet, glancing over at him more softly than when my head had snapped in his direction moments earlier. The 'or something' he suspected Mikado of knowing about - it was clear even in the brief moment he'd mentioned it that it was genuinely worrying him. It was endearing, and a part of me was glad that my old friend had someone who cared so deeply about him. My attention, however, was primarily on the rest of what he'd said.
"Yeah, it was Izaya. I confronted him about it. He threatened to send me back here," I explained simply, no particular emotion tainting the proclamation. For that, I was neither resentful nor angry. It was just a fact.
"Lemme guess; you're back here because you think coming back on your own is gonna give you your power back," he remarked, though there was minimal malice in his voice. I looked at him, a flinch at the theory's validity only visible in the subtleties of my face. I waited in silence, preparing for the criticism that seemed to promise to follow.
"It won't work. No matter how well you play his games, you'll never get ahead of him. And you'll never escape him, either. Once you get outta here on your own, he'll just find something else to hold over your head if he doesn't have it already. You're not taking your power back, you're just running away and deluding yourself into thinking it's justified," he challenged, the last sentence possessing an edge to it that would've made me curious were I not conflicted enough to simply offer silence in response. He continued; "Let me ask you something; are you comin' back because you wanna get better, or because you wanna win?"
My silence told us both the answer to his question. My reasons left far, far too much to be desired, but what else could I do? What other option did I have? "Then what am I supposed to do? How else are you suggesting I deal with this?"
Kida leaned back, stretching his arms out with a yawn - one that seemed to reflect a tiredness that was more than just physical - before sighing as he appeared to contemplate an answer. When he finally answered, it was a sentiment that was very obviously tainted with nostalgia and regret. "Don't let your choices hang on him. Beating him, trusting him, whatever - if you want to come back here, don't do it because of him. Every decision you make, trying to get back at him, protect yourself, any of it - you're letting him win. Just live by your own rules and stay away from him."
My brow furrowed as I observed the teen intently, considering his suggestion seriously with an expression of conflict. I turned away and looked forward, the boy doing the same as he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. Staying away from Izaya... It certainly seemed wise, but I knew myself far too well to try to achieve impossible goals. Even if I felt confident that I could stay away from him without coming back for the wild emotions he made me feel - I wholeheartedly didn't want to. In some strange, foreign way, his company was something I truly enjoyed. To some extent, it was becoming clear to me that I cared about him.
But I could do the next best thing and follow the rest of his advice, spoken wisely and with obvious experience. I was doing this for the wrong reasons. These were choices I wouldn't be making if I wasn't trying to play his game, if I wasn't influenced by what he'd led me to feel. This wouldn't be a victory. That conclusion in mind, I knew that I didn't yet know how I could achieve a victory - but until I was sure of what I wanted for me, I needed to think much harder and differently about my choices.
I sighed. "So what are you doing here?" came my question, breaking the silence quietly. I saw the hint of a smile tug at his lips, but the last thing I'd describe it as was happy; melancholy, maybe.
"Not following my own advice," was his brief response, before reluctantly rising to his feet and turning. "Guess it's easier said than done." And with that, he gave a nonchalant wave and began to walk away, hands returning to the pockets of his hoodie.
After watching him for several seconds, I stood as well, walking quickly a bit in his direction. "Wait, Kida," I called, and he turned back with irritated curiosity. "Thank you."
All he offered was a nod in response, an answer I was pretty much satisfied with. That said, I stopped him with a warm, wide smile before he started to turn away again. "Hey, Kida?"
"What?" he asked, question quite obviously dripping with annoyance.
"You tell anyone anything I just told you, and I'll send Mikado and your little girlfriend everything I found about you on Izaya's computer."
The look he shot me was deadly. "Maybe you're better suited for dealing with him than I gave you credit for." The statement was hardly a compliment based on the tone with which it was said, and I smiled wider as he turned back fully and walked away faster than before and with significantly more animosity.
Guess it was time to get back onto Izaya's computer.
The walk back to the informant's apartment building was a peaceful one; ultimately, I still knew absolutely nothing about what I was going to do about anything or even how I felt about it, but I had accepted that now, and that gave me a sense of freedom that made me feel lighter. Even so - or maybe as a result of it - my return route had led me to an alternate destination, one I had frequented almost daily, once upon a time.
Sunshine City Aquarium. At this point, it was far too late in the evening for the building to be open to customers, but so long as employee schedules hadn't changed in the years I'd been absent, the staff had all finished cleaning and gone home, as well. All that remained was a security system and several guards that strayed very minimally from their posts - and when I walked to the nearest JR entrance and sneaked through the underground hallways, I was greeted with the very same employees-only door I had frequented so many years before. And with practiced ease and a brand new pair of leather gloves, I broke in through what I remembered to be the camera's blind spot.
Once I was in, I felt my body relax altogether; although I would've preferred to explore the outdoor areas as well, what I had always done - both for the sake of safety and atmosphere - was stay in one particular indoor walkway. It wasn't a part of the guards' routes, and it was just me and a wide variety of sea creatures and penguins that swam all around me behind the glass. I felt the childish enjoyment return to me as I neared the area, careful not to draw too close to any of the cameras' view.
And instead of being greeted by silence and penguins - although both were still present - I was greeted with a coffee offered towards me and the familiar presence of the source of my troubles. For a moment, I was appalled, unable to comprehend how he could've possibly known where I was going to be and when - but I was too tired, so I just took the coffee and sighed.
"How do you just - know everything?" I asked rhetorically, not giving him the chance to respond before I gently set the to-go cup on the ground next to the glass and threw myself at him. Wrapping my arms tightly around him, I buried my face in his chest and relished in the contradictory security and safety the position made me feel. Briefly, I managed to catch the expression of pure surprise on his face, smiling at it before exhaustion overtook me and I closed my eyes against him. I felt one arm wrap around my waist while the other maintained its grip on his own coffee that he had somehow managed not to drop or even spill despite my 'attack'.
"What an odd response to someone who's just betrayed you. I expected anger, resentment - at least a little bit of tension! My, my, Maiko-chan; has it taken you that little time to bury your emotions? I'm impressed! You might've even broken a record," he noted, amusement and the slightest hint of surprise clear in his voice.
"No, it's not like that. I'm genuinely not angry at you. I mean, in the moment, I was pissed as shit, but - I dunno. I don't consider it a betrayal, because I never trusted you not to do something like that in the first place. I even expected it. So I guess I'm not bothered by you. Just my own resulting dilemmas. Y'know?" came my light explanation, momentarily glancing up at his face in search of a reaction. The best I got was a raised eyebrow and the smirk on his face growing even more prominent.
"Of course. After all, your reactions have always been so human in the most uncommon of ways. That's why you're so perpetually interesting; your mind responds in such an instinctive manner that most people are conditioned out of for the sake of conformity, but your intellect combines with it in-"
I flicked him with one free hand in the nose. "Shut up. Just let me decompress."
To my surprise, he actually listened. A small chuckle was given in response, but there was no more conversation to keep me from enjoying the peaceful atmosphere offered by his comfort and the gorgeous blue of the water surrounding us in every direction. And for several minutes, we just stayed like that.
Eventually, I pulled myself away from him and plopped myself gracelessly down on the floor and up against the glass wall separating us and the fish, finally picking the coffee back up and sipping from it contentedly. It wasn't long before I found him sitting beside me, leaning comfortably back against the glass and glancing up and around him at the aquatic life.
I lazily turned my head in his direction, blurting out the thought and reassurance that so suddenly came to me as I watched him observe so peacefully. "Y'know, I don't actually think any of the things I said about you. I mean - I mean the parts about you being unlovable. You're not unlovable, Izaya."
"I know. You're very good at bluffing, though, I must say. Admirable effort."
I was sure that he didn't know, and I was sure he knew I knew that, too - but in this moment of innocent, serene respite, neither of us spoke another word. In this moment, none of the future crises awaiting me at the hands of this very man existed; it was just two people coexisting in perfect harmony.
"Shipwreck; useless as a lighthouse on the moon. Deflect; avoidance holds the lighter to the spoon. Call me, when you need someone to listen to you. Call me, when you're flirting with the edge. One step is closer than none, one step is closer than none. I'm drowning in a sea of blame; heart beats the microscope, keeping me away. In a sea of blame, debt beats the undertow, pulling me away. Detect; a virus turning everything to numb. Eject; I'm done with burning bridges to the sun. Calling, I'm surrendering to something true. Calling, 'cause I'm ready to ignite. I can feel it coming." - USS, Shipwreck