Author's Note: As most of you have already guessed, yes, this story is almost over. I'd also like to inform you that I'm finishing the uploads as soon as I can by updating once for every ten reviews (just because I think that seems like a good/steady pace).
On top of that, I think this is it for me. As much as I love writing, there are more important things I have to do. Most of what I write isn't coming out at all how I'd like it to, but when I do write it takes me away from other important things that need my focus. I sort of want my OC's back.
Shizaya is my OTP. That isn't changing, but other matters need my attention more.
So... there's a chance of no more new stories for me, and I definitely plan to finish those that are almost done, but after that, I think it has to end somewhere.
It has NOTHING to do with my fandom toward Durarara! That hasn't wavered much at all. It's just really difficult to do ANYTHING and be PROUD of it after spending so long on something else. This story took up so much time and effort, and I haven't regained that since I finished. I write less and less everyday, and I'd like to come back to writing with something 100% me.
I also never liked how a lot of stories that don't have a bunch of smut don't do as well as those that do have it. I think if I had it my way, I wouldn't have smut at all, but I write it for readers/fans of the pairing I'm writing for. Does that make any sense?
I choose substance over sex. I really do. And it's stressful to write, especially for someone who likes angst as much as I do. They're difficult to mesh together. So I want to finish the unfinished, and then drift into the background and observe from afar. I feel like those things aren't necessary in my own works. I'll always have implications since that's generally what adult relationships involve, but... smut isn't the most important thing to me, and sometimes I feel like I have to write it.
I'm glad I didn't give into that with this story. I used it to build (I think/hope) my story line, but I didn't focus it on smut. And I find smut much more enjoyable with plot.
Keep in mind that is not at all to say I do not like it, and that I think writers who only write smut are bad at what they do. That's not it at all. That's so false. It's just not... me.
Yeah... That's really all.
Thank you!
Trying to sit up, the weakness from my body being so useless over the last twelve days weighs me down until Shizuo takes a seat on the mattress beside me. He pulls me up, easily supporting my dead weight in such strong arms.
My breath catches in my throat as red and gold fill my hazy vision.
"What is this…?" I whisper, unsure how to feel.
Adrenaline courses through my veins while the heart monitor picks up a few extra beeps.
Shizuo glances to Shinra, who nods accordingly.
"I'll leave you two alone for a while," he smiles. "Buzz the nurse if you need anything."
He exits, but my eyes are still glued to my surroundings. I'm barely able to acknowledge Shizuo's presence amongst all of… this.
Sensing the questions racing through my mind, he answers them before I can even locate the proper words within myself to ask.
"There are one-thousand of them," he speaks softly, his hot breath tickling my ear as he speaks. "All of them for you."
But why? Who would do such a thing? Who would care for my despicable life enough to go so far?
I don't deserve any of this. Not even one.
No.
After what I've done, I should be dead. That is what I deserve most.
"It only took a few days," he explains, "We all helped… Me, Celty, Shinra, your sisters… Kadota and the Otakus… Even that Shiki guy. We made them… because we love you…"
Love? What the hell is this love…? Who would give such a thing to me?
Shizuo reaches to the bedside table, picking up one of a thousand paper cranes; placing it in my hand. Quickly taking note of how weak I have become, not just during the past two weeks, but since the migraines infiltrated my life, he helps me hold the tiny piece of folded paper.
I've never felt so useless in my life. Yet… at the same time… wanted.
They hang by tiny silver threads from the ceiling, sit in pyramids on each available surface, stick to the walls with clear tape.
Some, like the one I hold in my trembling hand, are striped. Others are solid. Some shine with a beautiful oriental print. All of them working toward one goal: to wish me a long, prosperous life in fortunate health.
The thought brings silent tears to my eyes.
Nobody is supposed to care for me like this… nobody.
"Shizu-chan…" I whisper, feeling that I will fall apart entirely if he lets me go.
I don't want to be reminded that love is fleeting… I only want to feel his warmth soak into my cold skin.
There's so much I have to say. So much to tell him that only ever became clear in distant, confusing dreams. Words that should have been true all along, before we reached this extent of misfortune.
"It's alright," he reassures me in his gentlest tone. "You're tired…"
"But I… I…"
"Izaya… it's okay," he promises, placing a kiss on my bandaged head, "Get some sleep. We have all the time in the world to talk about it later."
Laying me back down, he does not leave me. Instead, he makes himself comfortable at my side, double checking that I'm alright as I snuggle against him.
I wish I weren't so exhausted. I wish I could think clearly enough to understand all of this. These gifts from everyone I've pushed away, wronged, used…
I will not take this as forgiveness; however, maybe it is a start.
Perhaps there is hope for me yet.
Waking up, I find myself exactly where I was when I fell asleep - in Shizuo's arms, void of my former strength as I try, and fail, to squeeze his hand in my own. I can barely bend my own fingers. The helplessness is terrifying, telling me that I have a long way to go before my life can get back on track.
So… it was a tumor? This entire time?
Every day of suffering, every line of blame, every pill I ingested…
It shamefully eats away at my heart knowing that all of this… this hell… could have been prevented.
Shizuo didn't have to get hurt, and neither did I. We didn't have to come so close to the end. We could have continued the way we were - locked in a battle of addictive, violent, passionate loathing instead of this.
We did not have to change.
And for whatever bemusing reason, we did. And I'm glad we did.
I'm glad to find myself here right now - a broken, piteous wreck of a mortal life form, struggling to heal.
The thought makes me wonder where I would be had things turned out differently. Had the doctor who examined my fucked up head found that tiny tumor causing me so much unbearable affliction.
An operation would have removed it then; and I would have awoken in one of these sterile hospital beds completely alone; without this indescribable warmth as company.
Deep down, I would have resented it, I'm sure. I would have laughed mockingly at both myself and the people I surround myself with, for not giving a damn about my health when I silently commanded that all of humanity love me. I would have felt horribly alone in a similar room to this one, stubbornly refusing the help of professionals working around me, earning nothing but distrust and disgust on their part.
That is precisely what would have happened.
In a few weeks, I would have gotten back to work, running the same routine as I have since high school, selling information to the highest bidder, plotting the demise of useless human beings as well as monsters. The same monsters I once considered Shizuo to be.
This would be a different world. Wouldn't it?
"You still have a long way to go, you know," Shinra says softly, shutting the door behind him. "Don't think you're out of the woods yet."
"I've always felt the woods are a safe place," I say in a shaky breath.
"Oh?"
"Terrific place to hide."
"You know what I mean," he smirks, taking a seat in the chair.
Shizuo is still sound asleep. We make it a point not to allow our conversation to wake him. He looks completely spent by all of the anguish I've put him through.
"Aye…" I try to nod, realizing in the slight motion that I'm in pain. I wince, unable to hide behind my usual demeanor. It scares me.
Shinra, on the other hand, is quick to catch on, taking it upon himself to plunge a syringe into my IV.
"Morphine," he says slyly, waving the empty vile around, "Since I'm not a licensed doctor, and since nobody here knows that but the three of us, I see no problem in doing you a favor."
"Thanks," I return a small smile, immediately drowning in the effects of the drug in my bloodstream.
"But I need you to stay coherent enough to talk. Can you try?"
Talk… And his tone? Never a good sign on my part. Never. Still, I nod regardless.
"Great," his grin widens and he pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up the slender bridge of his nose, "Your neurosurgeon is going to come in later and give you a rundown of it all, but I figured I'd tell you first. Knowing you, you'd rather hear it from me anyway."
"True…" I can't deny his logic.
"You know brain tumors are serious things, Izaya. Potentially deadly in many cases, including yours. The tests we ran showed that it was a meningioma - which can exist for years before possibility of detection."
"And it was malignant?" I breathe.
Shinra nods carefully, "If you hadn't taken that hit, there's a chance you'd have died before anybody knew what was actually wrong with you. On top of that, there's always a chance it could come back. So for the next few years, you're going to have to be tested for them frequently."
"Tch. You mean more hospitals?"
"If another is found, it could cut your life short. You know this."
Swallowing, I am forced to agree. "I do…"
"Whatever keeps you alive, right? Good news is that the checkups become less frequent if your tests come back clean."
"Right… so when will I be able to go home?"
Shinra shrugs honestly. "I think one of the nurses said that you'll be released when you can walk to the bathroom and back on your own… How do you feel now?"
"Like overcooked noodles…" I feel the corners of my mouth tug into a smile.
Shinra chuckles. "Morphine is kicking in?"
"Ne? Yeah…"
