(A/N) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FUCK

There's a difference between a desire and an expectation. Izaya desires to be left alone when he returns home with head trauma, but he expects work. His desires have never been of much importance to Shiki. There's a sordid look on Haruya's face, and a pensive gesture in the way Izaya deliberately ignores his eye.

"If I would have known you were going to ignore the assignment, I wouldn't have commissioned you for the information, Izaya-san."

The formalities don't sit well with Izaya, and he can't help the way his skin crawls when he thinks of the other people that had suddenly been given an honorific. Regardless, Izaya's smile tugs just a bit harder at his face.

He apologizes again, of course. What else is one supposed to do in this situation? He says he's sorry, and it feels like a lie that covers the room, but that's because it is a lie. He could honestly not care any less about Shiki's dissatisfaction.

"Akabayashi saw you and Heiwajima on your-"

"Date." Izaya finishes, and he instantly hatches a brilliant plan.

"Your… date?" Shiki asks, confused disgust evident in his face and voice.

It feels good for Izaya to make the other man's façade break, even if for a fraction of a second. Shizuo's expense be damned. If the mafia thinks they have reconciled and then they'll think they're in cahoots. Izaya's prepared to bring a whole new meaning to the term love thy enemy.

"Yes," he coos, "A date. Shizu-chan and I have decided to direct our blinding passion into something other than fighting. He's so sweet when you really get to know him- I'm honestly kicking myself for not realizing it sooner. He's so…"

A toxic grin carves across Izaya's entire being.

"Easy to love."

Izaya can almost hear the agitation erupt in Shiki and it feels fantastic.

"In fact, in light of our most recent relationship development, I've decided to take a short holiday to truly devote my efforts in working on us. So, I'll have to suspend this assignment."

Knuckles crack on Shiki's end of the room.

"You will be taking a serious pay cut for this."

"I have given you what I found within the parameters of 'keeping my distance' from the serial killer."

"Then invade," Shiki hisses.

Izaya's anger boils over, and for a split second he snaps, pounding his fist into the glass of his desk.

"My life," Izaya growls, "is not worth your petty revenge scheme."

The glass beneath his knuckles cracks. It's a hairline fracture that carves its way up to the edges of each of his desks and shoots glass into his hand. He hears a hiss, violent and guttural as his blood seeps into the cracks like paint dripping into a gorge. He knows the hiss isn't his own.

He also knows he's gonna need stitches.

Izaya can feel many things wrong at the same. For starters, there's a hand wrapping around his wrist. He can see it– black and smoky as it closes in on his scars, and his skin, and his blood. It's holding him there, and keeping him from lashing out any further. He's thankful for it. A grounding force more powerful than Shizuo could ever hope to be, or ever will be.

Izaya takes a breath that's almost as violent as his outburst. He grits his teeth at Shiki, who looks a little more distant than Izaya remembers, and drags a smile to his face as he removes his hand from the glass pile on his desk. Darkness is swallowing his vision to the point of suffocating. Everything is dark– aside from the white light surrounding Shiki. There are also hands wrapping their way up his legs, and Izaya knows it's him, but he can't possibly bring himself to care about what blood these hands will spill.

Izaya closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he opens them again, he's back in his apartment with his bloody fist pulled tightly against his chest and Shiki shooting out of the chair in front of his broken desk.

Izaya eyes him warily. "I will inform you when I return to my office. In the meantime, it would be best if you ignored me for quite a while."

He doesn't say anything as he leaves, but he doesn't need to. Izaya can tell that he's scared, but he doesn't know what of. Maybe he's realizing how unsafe Izaya is. Or maybe he saw the woman with long black hair standing at the top of the staircase.

She's twitching, and dripping wet as she stands there. One of her hands remains out stretched, until it's not, and Izaya feels like he's being let go of something that he can't name. This woman... she concerns him, but he doesn't have time to worry about it as she snaps her neck back and screams something loud and awful that completely shatters his desk, and sends everything on top crashing to the floor. When she stops, she's gone.

There's a calm sense of familiarity found in her that Izaya begins to miss as soon as she's gone. He can't seem to find fear in her, regardless of her malevolent appearance and brash behaviors. She's alluring, and just like that, Izaya feels like he's losing his mind. He ignores the shattered glass and the blood leaking onto the floor, and removes his phone from his pocket. He texts Shizuo first– deciding that he needs to feel that calming presence before he leaves to go be with Ursus. He's worried he might snap, and as much as he doesn't inherently enjoy murder, it is a more effective method of dealing with anyone who might try to fight them.

He just... doesn't want to let anyone down, especially if that person is Ursus. And thus, Izaya texts Shizuo and asks if he would like to go for an early dinner when he gets off in a few minutes. The response doesn't come for a while, but when it does, it's a nervous sounding "sure."

Izaya takes the steps two at a time to grab his wallet and get out of this suffocating apartment. He doesn't take even a second to ponder the puddle at the top of the stairs. He feels sick and dizzy in every single fiber of his being– almost like he's drowning in the confines of his own home. He craves that sweet stability that comes from being docile with Shizuo. Izaya was so relaxed at that restaurant with Shizuo that he almost debates setting up a weekly dinners. It's all he can do to stay sane. He's hurting, and is extensively overwhelmed through just living his day to day life to the point where Izaya can feel the break down creeping up on him like that woman.

And maybe that's who she is. She is his breakdown, whispering her fingers and shallow breaths across his shoulder blades in the middle of the night. The one who presses his knife into his wrist on especially bad days, and now he has a face for the feeling. Izaya's breathing goes shaky for a minute as he leaves.

The walk to Russia Sushi is unassuming. There's people everywhere, but Izaya can't find it in him to be interested. He feels empty and so tired that he is physically aching from the mental strain of simply existing in his life. He hurts. Izaya tucks his hands in his jacket pockets and strides with a latent slouch in his step. He needs to take a step back and really breathe. Shinra and Celty said they would be there for him whenever he needs him, and Izaya is starting to realize that there's a reason Shizuo prefers Celty. Celty is understanding almost to a fault– at least in Izaya's perspective. She's quiet, but more so because she can't talk rather than actually wanting to listen. Izaya is happy to have her, regardless. He cracks his knuckles into fists as he shoves them in his jacket.

Russia Sushi should be a safe place, shouldn't it? Surely Simon would see them willingly going together and not let it slip that Izaya is Itzal.

Or a big fat fucking hypocrite.

He ponders all those years he spent calling Shizuo a monster and wishing death on him. There was no need for it. It was a waste of energy Izaya would have gladly used elsewhere. He wasted so much time on obsessing over this figment of his own insecurities. He blamed Shizuo for what was wrong with him, and thus they ended up fighting, and fighting, and fighting, and now that they aren't– Izaya is kicking himself for being so ignorant.

He and Shizuo could have had this all along. They could have had this content and peaceful happy coexistence. They fought. They fought so much, and it was so much wasted on both of their parts. Izaya is filled with regret. It's an aching sadness that reverberates through his body with such a disgusting weight. It tugs at his body until his vision wells with tears, and he leans against a wall in the alley and takes another shaky breath. His tears are hot as they run down his face. He hiccups for a second in the white noise of the city. It'd be nice if the rain started falling, and the air around him was as heavy with regret as Izaya was, but he isn't so lucky. The sun is shining brilliant shades of orange across the cloudless sky, and it's killing him.

He feels so bad and the radiant sunsets are so mocking to his sadness, but this isn't some story, and there's no cliched rainfall to match the main character's pain. This is real life with real existential depression and real unrequited love. It's not like Shizuo is just gonna swing around that alley and come save him from his sadn–

"Izaya, is that you?"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he mumbled breathlessly while attempting to compose himself.

"Is something wrong?"

"Ha. No." Izaya flinches at his honesty. "I'm fine."

That's better– gotta cover that shit up with a lie.

"What are you doing here?" There's a concern in Shizuo's voice that rots on Izaya's ears.

He can't take sympathy or pity. It is a serious character flaw in his mind, but he can't help it. He feels like it's a sign of weakness to allow others in, and while Izaya rationalizes that that is a completely ludicrous notion, he physically can not comfortably let anyone in.

"Hey flea," Shizuo strides next to him and places a hand delicately between Izaya's shoulder blades. "You're obviously not okay– just tell me what's wrong."

Izaya doesn't answer. He just takes another shaky breath knowing all too well that Shizuo can feel the tension shake through him and reverberate off of himself. The worst part about it is that Shizuo– sweet, absent-minded Shizuo– did what most people do when they are concerned about their friend. They pull their crying friend into a hug. Izaya's face presses against Shizuo's chest and strong arms wrap around him. His breathing stutters, and he wants nothing more than to allow himself to be held. Izaya's earth stutters to a halt. His heart pounds out of his chest like a bass drum violently pounding against the confines of his ribs. With their inherent proximity, Izaya digs his nose into Shizuo's shirt and waits for the redness in his face to die down.

It always feels good after a break down– similar to the beauty after a forest fire. There is a sense of a fresh start, when there's nothing left but ash-fertile soil and the sorrowful return of animals. In Izaya's metaphor, his sense of shame is the deer mother returning to her destroyed home.

Nothing is said between them for a few moments while Izaya takes in the smells of Shizuo's chest. He feels safe and protected from all of the horrible, sad, awful shit going on in his life. Right now, this time is his, and he is content to cry into Shizuo's chest if that's what it takes to make him feel better. Even if for only a second.

Shizuo sighs into Izaya's hair. "I'm not gonna pry, but if we really are doing this whole friends thing, then you should know you can come to me with your problems like this."

Izaya chooses not to respond to the "like this" part of Shizuo's declaration. He also chooses to pointedly ignore the happy warmth that spreads through him.

When he finally forces his face out of Shizuo's collarbone, he knows his face isn't red anymore. His eyelashes still feel a little heavy with moisture, but he isn't crying anymore. Izaya can see the outline of the moon hanging up in the sky and decides that maybe everything isn't so bad. Shizuo takes a sharp inhale, and Izaya almost flinches at the sudden sound. He looks like he's had the wind knocked out of him, and from the blush and the way he's avoiding eye contact, Izaya thinks it has something to do with him. Shizuo's just being weird, but there's nothing unusual about that.

Izaya already feels a little better. He hasn't been with Shizuo that long, and he can already feel his presence radiate a safety Izaya can't help but crave.

"Dinner, Shizu-chan?" Izaya asks, a playful lilt purring in his voice at the suffix.

'Shizuo' still feels a little weird on his tongue, and he's glad that the other makes no effort to correct him. Shizuo wraps his arm around Izaya's shoulders and tugs him into his chest again. However, this time their foreheads press together, and Shizuo shoots Izaya a grin that is so full of hope and trust in the world that Izaya can't help but smile back. They walk like that for a while, Shizuo's arm wrapped around Izaya's shoulder in the same way the romantic couples around them walk.

Shizuo is smiling up ahead while he talks to Izaya about work. Izaya attempts to smother the guilt he feels for falling back in love with Shizuo.