Several weeks meandered by.
Life in Ikebukuro kept on going.
People went on with their lives.
Saburo kept on waxing his van. Erika and Walker kept obsessing over new manga releases. Kadota kept on being Kadota. Shinra and Celty were just fine.
Simon kept on advertising for Russia Sushi.
Izaya watched from his office window dozens of stories above the city. In absolute disgust.
None of his humans even cared that he was gone.
They just kept on going with their lives, walking up and down the Ikebukuro streets just as they always had.
He didn't even matter at all.
He watched as the blonde former bartender crossed the Ikebukuro/Shinjuku border and entered HIS part of the city. He watched him sit down on the bus stop bench just outside his office building.
And just sit there.
And sit there. And sit there.
This had become almost a daily ritual.
Every day the blonde would come to Shinjuku and sit there on that bus bench.
Like he was waiting for something.
But he never got on the bus, never went inside the office building.
He would just sit there. For hours.
And then the next minute Izaya would look and he'd be gone.
Poof.
This ritual annoyed Izaya to no end.
It meant that he would have to stay out of the window to avoid Shizuo seeing and recognizing him. And it meant that he could not watch his humans as they passed by.
This was about the twentieth time that this had happened, and Izaya was sick of it.
This time, when the blonde sat down, the ravenette recognized the fur-lined jacket he was wearing.
And he decided that enough was enough.
Izaya's anger was not at all like Shizuo's.
Whereas the blonde would just explode violently and dump it all out of his system after a set amount of frustration; when Izaya became angry he held it in, bottled it up over time underneath the surface, let it ferment in his being, rot, twist and contort until it became something truly ugly.
Toxic.
And that's just what was happening now.
Boiled over to the point he was without a second though, the information broker tossed it all out of the window, tore down several flights of stairs and stormed across the street below.
And Shizuo couldn't believe what he was seeing.
He blinked, and there was a figure on the other side of the road.
Thin, pale, with long legs...
At first he did not recognize him at all, without his trademark jacket.
And then he thought he was seeing things.
He rubbed his eyes, but the figure was still there, and it was coming closer and closer with each passing second and then;
"Oi! Ya fuckin' brute!" It was his beautiful voice.
His beautiful voice swearing angrily at him and calling him awful names and it was Izaya...!
He bolted up from the bus seat and ran to him.
He couldn't believe his eyes. His Izaya, perfectly healthy, on his feet, walking, and then coming to a dead halt in the middle of the street and his gorgeous crimson eyes widening in absolute horror and that perfect, melodic voice filling his ears and he screamed at the top of his lungs;
"SHIZUO! LOOK OUT! TRUCK!"
Oh, yes. Shizuo saw Izaya, and Izaya saw him, as well as the speeding delivery truck, but Shizuo was so caught up in seeing Izaya again that he didn't see that truck until a split second too late.
And then all he saw were stars.
Shizuo hit the front end of the truck and was tossed into the air, rolling up over the windshield and the roof of the vehicle before colliding with the asphalt at the information broker's feet, with a sickening, skin-crawling wet crunch.
Izaya winced.
But a second later the blonde former bartender was back on his feet and her was hugging and embracing and squeezing him tight, forgetting completely of his strength to such a point that Izaya was sure his head was going to pop off like the cap on a tube of toothpaste, except instead of minty dental hygienic goodness it would be his intestines that squirted out everywhere.
"FUCK IZAYA I'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH THANK GOD YOU'RE ALIVE I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU AGAIN I WON'T EVER LET ANYONE TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME AVER AGAIN!"
"Dah...mmit... let... go...!" Izaya gasped. Shizuo flushed slightly and released his hold. But he couldn't help himself, and within a few moments he was back to hugging again.
"Thank god you're okay, Izaya! I didn't know what to do...! I'm so happy, we can pick up right where we left off and we can be together like we were meant to be.:
Izaya swallowed harshly. All he could think about was what Namie had said.
Though tempting, this was a lie.
"Sh... Shizuo."
"Yes?" The blonde responded, pulling back from the hug and staring at him, mocha eyes blissful, but curious.
Izaya hesitated only for a moment.
" 'Want my goddamn jacket back."
The former bartender laughed a bit, heartily, then embraced him again.
"Shizuo. Give it back." He growled. Shizuo gave him a confused and rather hurt sort of look; not understanding why the information broker was not excited and happy and relieved to be reunited, like he was.
"What... Izaya-kun?"
The ravenette tugged aggressively on the hood of the jacket, trying to tear it off of the blonde.
"GIMME MY FUCKIN' JACKET, YOU GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT!"
Shizuo's wounded eyes wavered only for a moment before he smashed his fist into the other's face, with enough force he was sent sprawling to the ground.
See, he'd figured it out, now.
Why he had been 'the only one' who'd visited him at the hospital.
Why the nurse had let him take him out of the hospital when he was supposedly on life support.
Why Izaya had refused to be undressed.
Why when he had proclaimed his affections, Izaya had shut him down and demanded to be returned to the hospital.
Why he hadn't heard anything from Mairu or Kururi in regards to their older brother's death.
Why there had been no leads in the search for the shooter.
Why there hadn't been a funeral service held for him.
And why he was perfectly fine, standing on his own two feet as of now.
It was because Izaya had never been injured in the first place.
Izaya had lied about all of it, for the sole purpose of manipulating him just like he was so notorious for doing.
And Shizuo, for some unimaginable reason, had believed every word that has escaped those greasy lips.
He'd been used.
The blonde ripped the jacket from him figure and threw it on the ground next to where the information broker lay.
"TAKE your motherfucking jacket back, you fucking LIAR."
And then he ran for it; pushing and shoving past people on the crowded sidewalks and screaming at the top of his lungs for them to all get the fucking hell out of his way.
Izaya brought himself to his feet, brushed himself off, picked up the jacket, put his arms back through the fur-cuffed sleeves, crossed the street and headed back into the office building without a second glance.
[[Thank you for reading~! ^^ I hope you enjoyed reading this scene, and would love to hear what you were thinking when you read it. For those who have been following this story, I thank you especially, because it's support like that that motivates me to keep writing. :) ]]