Chapter 2: The Kawaii Idol, Kanra-Chan, Loses Her Shit

For the next week, Izaya tries his best to ignore the incident he'd had with Shizuo, yet no matter how hard he tries, the memories keep popping up in his head. He can't seem to shake off that feeling of Shizuo's touch searing itself into his skin. It keeps him up at night, making it hard for him to get any decent amount of sleep. As a result, he's been downing cup after cup of extra strong black coffee as if it was his only lifeline.

Now it's a bit better, he only thinks of Shizuo twice a day, which is a significant improvement as opposed to the usual twenty. This time, his mind is preoccupied with a different matter. Namely the notifications popping up on his computer screen.

His fingers slide gracefully over the keys of his keyboard, tapping happily as he writes up message after message in his favorite online chatting forums. Messages that seem like meaningless gossip at first glance, but hold a much greater significance in the grander scheme of things.

All part of the plan, he thinks and presses send. Within the next few seconds, he gets a message that doesn't inherently appear malicious. Yet the longer he stares at the words printed at the screen, the harder his heart starts to pound against his ribcage.

[Say, Kanra-san, don't you think that was a little bit too rude of you to say?]

Izaya's eyes narrow, a slow fire kindling in the depths of his chest. His lips form into an ugly, twisted scowl. The more his eyes fixate on the screen, the hotter the flames get. He grits his teeth together, fingers digging violently into his keyboard and distorting his next message with numerous typos.

[FIKC YOU TANAKSA TORIPU JUSYT FUCKL YOI, YPU LITLTE SJIT! あｄさｓがｊｆがｋもｋふ!]

He bursts, succumbing completely to the flames inside. Without sending the reply, he picks up his keyboard and brings it over his knee, snapping it entirely in two. With a shrill scream, he throws the keyboard on the ground before jumping up from his seat and kicking it across the room.

He gives into the flames, losing himself in the forest fire raging within. Without a second through, he hooks his hands under his desk and begins lifting with all his might. He doesn't even register the small click in his wrist as he's eventually forced to lower the desk down, being too weak to lift it fully. All this just causes him to let out another frustrated scream.

His vision becomes corrupted solely by the color red. Red, red, red as he grabs the monitor off his desk, ignoring the pang of his wrist, and throws it across the room. He's aiming for the bookshelf but his skinny arms do very little to fully realize his goal. The monitor flies a total of maybe half a meter before landing on the floor, screen instantly cracking into a web of thin lines.

With a grunt, he picks up the actual computer next and throws it in the same direction as the monitor. The little box splits open, revealing the intricate network of all its inside components. To add insult to injury, Izaya picks up his laptop from the other side of the desk and throws that into the mix too. The laptop crashes into his open PC with a loud crack, breaking everything on the inside.

After all of that, he stands there, chest heaving up and down with each ragged breath he takes. But he's not done yet. Far from it. Izaya looks at his chair, eyes narrowing as he comes across yet another object he feels the overwhelming urge to destroy. He picks it up by the arm rests and flings it directly at one of his windows. The chair doesn't make a single dent and just ricochets right off before landing on the floor on its side, narrowly missing his foot.

Why? Why does he feel so, so damn angry? It's as if a dam has burst inside him, gushing out a large tsunami. Except the water is like hot lava, burning and destroying everything in its wake.

Brows furrowing in frustration, Izaya shrieks yet again, his throat now aching from the intensity of his screams as he brings back his hand and slams his fist straight into the thick glass. Pain instantly courses through his knuckles, shaking the very bones inside, and as he pulls his hand away he notices a little sliver of crimson staining his window.

Great, just fucking great.

He clutches his hand against his chest tightly, trying to ignore the radiating pain. As he turns, he's met with Namie standing in front of his mess, face completely stoic and body fully still, with only a mug of tea in her hand. The tea he'd had her prepare. Silently, she places the cup on the now empty desk.

"I'm not cleaning that up," she says flatly, staring into his eyes and seemingly completely unfazed by his outburst, almost as if she'd always been expecting him to snap. He narrows his eyes at her. Despite most of the anger having dissipated from his system, some still lingers.

"Oh yes. Yes you are. Clean it up right now," Izaya says with a low growl to his voice. Her face takes on an actual expression for once. Her eyebrows scrunch together and she scowls right back at him, crossing her arms.

"What is your problem today? What could have possibly pissed you off so much to have you acting like this?" She asks him, and Izaya stands there, breath hitching in his throat as he feels the remainder of the anger leave his system.

In the next moment, he feels almost nothing. As if the feeling had been a fleeting spirit, possessing his body for only a short, temper filled moment, before passing right out like an intangible ghost. Intangible or not, the result is still very much tangible. He looks at the pile on the floor, then back at Namie. He shuts his eyes, inhales, and waits ten seconds before exhaling.

"I-I don't know," he stutters out and takes a step backward, pressing his back against the unbreakable sky high windows. He winces slightly, body trembling as he comes to grips with the swelling in his wrist. It's only now that he registers the full extent of his hand injury. His knuckles are, in fact, creating a slow trail of blood down his arm.

"Something to do with…him?" Namie asks and Izaya's mind instantly flickers to Shizuo. He thinks back to a week ago, the scenario replaying itself in his memories. The feeling of Shizuo's hand grasping his wrist. The exhilarating heat and warmth seeping in through his skin. How that feeling had instantly vanished the moment he'd slipped out of Shizuo's grip.

Why is he thinking of such things now? What correlation does his fight with Shizuo have to everything he'd just done? What's more, Namie hadn't even been inquiring about Shizuo, yet Izaya's mind had still chosen to instantly flip to the protozoan. Just another thing he hates about him, Izaya supposes. The fact that he's always on his mind.

He shakes his head in response to her query.

"Something else," he mutters. "I'll figure it out. Right now I just…need some air."

He peels himself from the window and passes by her, heading straight for his coat hanging on the coat rack near the door. He throws it over his shoulders and turns back to her while already holding the door open.

"You don't actually have to clean it up, I'll take care of it," he tells her with a now much clearer head and makes his exit.

Once outside, he pulls out his phone with his healthy hand and dials Shinra's number. A few rings later and…nothing. Straight to voicemail. Izaya curses under his breath. Figures. It's Sunday. Shinra doesn't particularly like to take clients every single day of the week, since he also needs a break from time to time, but surely Izaya should be the exception.

After all, aren't they friends?

Izaya tries again. Still no reply.

Asshole.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Izaya scowls. He hates hospitals and desperately wants to avoid going to one, even if his wrist and knuckles are crying out in pain. His pinkie, in particular, gives him the most grief. It's only a short train ride to Ikebukuro anyway. He can manage for a few minutes, if only to come and kick Shinra's ass personally.

Only a few minutes.

Only a few.

Half an hour later, Izaya is outside Shinra's apartment, pounding at his door with his good hand, though at the rate he is going, he'll be needing treatment for both hands soon enough. Izaya's rapping becomes so fervent that the moment Shinra does finally open the door, Izaya nearly whacks him in the face.

"Orihara-kun?" Shinra asks, somewhat surprised. Izaya drops his hand and clears his throat.

"The one and only," he replies, voice dripping heavily with sarcasm.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" Shinra asks innocently, almost as if feigning ignorance.

"I need your medical expertise? Not like I called you at least five times before coming here to begin with," Izaya spits out and lifts up his hurt hand very briefly for Shinra to see, before dropping it again. He tries to slip in through the door, thinking that his injury would warrant his entry, but the doctor stands in his way and blocks him.

"I suppose you did call me, didn't you? Though I would like to remind you, today is my day off," Shinra trails and Izaya gets the feeling that it's not the only reason Shinra is denying him service. As if on cue, he hears another voice coming from inside.

"…If there's nothing wrong then why does it hurt?"

Izaya cocks his head to the side with a bitter smile spreading over his lips.

"So that's why you don't want me to come in, huh Shinra? Because Shizu-chan is here too," he says lowly. Shinra looks all too guilty. Before he has a chance to answer, the door swings open fully and Shizuo stands there behind the doctor, hand still on the door while he glares daggers at Izaya.

"I thought I could smell a flea nearby," he says in a low voice and Izaya smirks at him while discreetly trying to hide his hurt limb behind his back. He doesn't want Shizuo to see.

"Shizu-chan. How nice to see you again. I see your hand is doing a lot better since our last encounter. Such a shame really, here I was hoping I could make you suffer a little more," he grins, eyes flickering over the small strip of healed skin on Shizuo's hand. His comment only prompts Shizuo to bend Shinra's metal door out of shape with his immeasurable strength.

"What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Up to something shady, no doubt," Shizuo growls. Izaya gets the feeling that if not for Shinra standing between them, Shizuo would have surely pinned Izaya against a wall by now, with his hand pressing into his neck, threatening to kill him. Not that Izaya would particularly mind that, if it turns out being as thrilling as their encounter before.

Wait, no. What is he thinking? That's the last thing he wants right now. His wrist surely takes priority.

"I just-"

Before Izaya has a chance to answer, Shinra cuts them both off.

"Okay, that's enough of that. Shizuo-kun, as I told you before, your hand is completely fine, so if there's nothing else you need from me, I would appreciate it if you could leave."

Shizuo seems to mentally debate the instruction, then ultimately concedes and releases his grip on the door. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he slips past Shinra with his eyes glued to Izaya like a hawk. All the while, he's careful not to touch Izaya, and Izaya shifts his body to keep his injured wrist away from view.

As soon as Shizuo descends down the elevator, Izaya lets out a sigh of relief.

"Going to let me in now?" he asks, turning his attention to Shinra.

"Of course," the underground doctor replies and holds the door open for Izaya to enter. As soon as he does, he comes face to…err, shadow with Shinra's Dullahan girlfriend. If Celty had a head, it would surely be set in an expression of disgust. Izaya merely brushes her off without so much as a greeting and goes to sit at the dining room table while she escapes to a different room.

"Show me that wrist again, won't you?" Shinra asks as he takes a seat just next to Izaya and spreads out his medical equipment. Izaya lifts up his hand to show him. By now, the blood on his knuckles had long dried and there's some visible bruising, with his pinky finger being particularly swollen and covered entirely in a purple tint.

"Well, this really doesn't look good," Shinra comments as he grabs Izaya by the forearm and moves his hand around, attempting to get a better look.

"No shit, tell me something I don't know," Izaya snaps back rather rudely. He doesn't know why but he's irritated again. It's not the same rage filled feeling as before, but he's still annoyed. If only Shinra could just get on with it already. To which Shinra grabs his fingers and, one by one, begins bending them back and forth. Izaya is quiet for the most part, but as soon as the doctor gets to his pinky, he lets out a loud yelp.

"Yup, definitely broken," Shinra states as he presses on Izaya's pinky again. Each time Izaya feels the pressure against his digit, he groans in pain. If you already know that, why the hell do you keep bending it?

"Though there doesn't seem to be any misalignment with the bone, so it should heal back just fine if you keep it still and don't take it out of the splint I'm going to put on you," the doctor explains, then proceeds to cleans away any residue blood with a cotton swab dipped in hydrogen peroxide. Izaya winces slightly but otherwise sits completely still and lets him do his work. A few moments later, Izaya's hand is wrapped in clean white bandages and his pinky set into place with a plastic splint.

"Just make sure to put some ice on that from time to time when you get home and you should be good to go within a few days," Shinra comments as he starts putting away his medical equipment.

"Thanks," Izaya says and looks over his bandaged injury. It still hurts like hell, even if the pain isn't as intense as before.

"Aren't you going to give me any painkillers though?" he then asks. Shinra raises an eyebrow.

"Do you want painkillers?" he retorts.

"Yea, obviously."

Though come to think of if, there is also something else Izaya wants to inquire about as well. Something that's been bothering him quite heavily for the past few days.

"And while we're on the topic, do you have…any good sleeping pills? Something strong that will knock me out for hours. I… haven't been sleeping all that well lately," he confesses and shifts his eyes to the table, as if it was something to be embarrassed about.

"Sure, I'll see what I can do," Shinra replies as he recedes back into his quarters and returns moments later with two bottles of pills. He lifts up the first one.

"This is the painkiller. Take one as needed no earlier than four hours in between doses."

He hands the bottle to Izaya, allowing him to inspect it closely. The capsule is filled with about 15 or so small oval blue and white pills. Apparently, it should be enough for Izaya to bear through the pain.

"And this one is for sleep," Shinra continues and slides the pills for Izaya to take. Izaya's eyes widen to impossible sizes as soon as they land on the pill bottle.

"Shinra, what the fuck is this?" He asks as he lifts up the bottle with his healthy hand. Inside are ten giant pills, at least 3 centimeters in length.

"You wanted something strong, so here you go. One pill half an hour before bed time and you will be out like a light. Just take caution not to mix the two pills together."

Izaya looks at the pills in disdain but ultimately decides to accept his fate with a low sigh that borders on a high pitched whine.

"Sure," he says as he stands from the table. His intention is to leave, but Shinra stops him by clearing his throat.

"Ehem, aren't you forgetting something?" The doctor asks, and Izaya looks at him quizzically.

"The bill?"

Shinra slides over a piece of paper towards Izaya with a number written on it. He glances at the amount and his face contorts into pure shock.

"Excuse me? What in the hell is this? ¥150,000 for a hand injury? You have got to be kidding me."

Now, Izaya isn't exactly stingy with his money, but even he doesn't go waving it around and throwing bills at the poor. He has the money, but what Shinra is attempting to charge him is pushing the limit. Shouldn't he, of all people, get a discount?

So much for being friends…

"Don't forget the pills, and the fact that you came here without an appointment on my day off. Factor all that in and…" Shinra says as he taps the slip of paper with his index finger.

"Of course, if you are unhappy with the bill, I do encourage you to use other services next time."

Izaya scoffs and clicks his tongue before fishing out his wallet from his coat pocket. The task proves to be somewhat difficult with his currently broken finger, but he somehow manages. He takes out 15 ¥10,00 notes and throws them on the table with little to no care for where they land.

Shinra is damn lucky that Izaya is the type of person to carry around suspiciously large quantities of money in his wallet at all times. More often than not, his job involves not so legal payments that his bank shouldn't be aware of, and this just happens to be one of those payments.

"I'll keep that in mind," Izaya mutters and leaves the apartment.

A/N: 3cm? Haha Izaya-kun, as if that's the biggest thing you're going to be swallowing in this fan fic lol