Happy Little Pill is by Troye Sivan

— I don't own Durarara!

- Masaomi

Masaomi leaned against the side of his bed, shoulders slumped, staring pointlessly at the ceiling. Turning his head to the narrow bookshelf against the wall, he wondered how it had come to this. Why was he doing all this just for Mikado? He dreaded knowing that behind that inconspicuous bookshelf, locked within a classic rectangular safe embedded in the wall, was the Black Rider's enchanting head.

It was Wednesday. He'd had it for three and a half days now. What if the Rider came for him? Could it sense where its head was? No, if it did, he'd already be dead and the head gone. Unless it was waiting? But for what? Did Izaya-san know the Black Rider? Did he know whether Masaomi was in danger? Would he slip Mikado information on what he or Masaomi were doing? He knew he wouldn't hesitate to if it benefitted him.

Mikado. It used to be Saki-chan who he tried to save; now it was Mikado. He remembered what that puppet master informant had said to him at that hospital over a year ago.

"She will be your god." He'd been right. Saki-chan had been his god until several months ago, pulling him along on a string in "Izaya-sama's" name. Now it was Mikado who'd taken the reins from his former goddess and would, unless Masaomi could do anything about it, inevitably lead him off a steep cliff. Masaomi knew that that soft smile would someday end up pushing him over a ravine and straight into Hell, farther than even Saki-chan would have gone.

He was terrified.

Nothing was happening in the Dollars chat, and that made it all the worse. The anxiety, the paranoia, the dread was crushing him like a lead weight in his chest. What would happen next? Would he be prepared? How bad would it be?

Just then, a knock sounded from the door. Masaomi stood up, put on a smile, and looked through the peephole.

There stood Anri-chan, eyes so wide one would've thought they'd been taped open. Hesitantly, he opened the door.

"What's up, Anri-chan? You look like you've seen a ghost! Then again, we live in Ikebukuro, so it wouldn't come as much of a surprise… Ha-ha…"

He was faking a laugh and they both knew it. It was an effort to make things seem normal, not that it worked.

"Y-Yeah, it's practically normal already…" Anri-chan stumbled into the room and crumpled to the ground beside a short wooden table. "I-I-"

"Anri-chan, take a deep breath," Masaomi instructed, sitting down next to her, "Keep going whenever you're ready; take your time."

It was silent for a moment. Masaomi could tell from her downcast expression that he was not going to like what he heard.

Anri-chan exhaled. "I heard… I saw Mikado-san talking to… talking to Kuronuma-kun just now," she gasped, by that old abandoned building — the one a few blocks down from Russia Sushi? The thing is, they… they were holding shark masks."

"… Oh." That was all he could say. Masaomi couldn't say he had expected anything less. It was no surprise that with the reemergence of the Dollars would also come the reemergence of the Blue Squares. They were probably in cahoots with each other now, and as usual, he had no means of stopping any of it.

"Do you… Are you… You'll need some time to process it, won't you?" Anri-chan gave an unsure smile.

A sincere smile, so similar, yet so different from Mikado's, Masaomi thought out of the blue.

"N-No, I'm fine," he said, "I just- I guess I already saw it coming; I'm just not sure how to take it now that it's happened." He paused. "Did you hear what they said?"

"No…" He saw a flash of — Was that guilt? — across her face, but it might've just been his imagination. Shaken, the bespectacled girl rose from the floor. "I should go now."

"Yeah…" Masaomi sighed, looking down, "I'll call you if anything new happens."

"If I ever adopt a child," Anri-chan joked, "I'll make sure they don't grow up in the city." She closed the door behind her.

That conversation had failed to end on a high note, to say the least.

Masaomi stared down at the wooden table. Why was he like this? Why did the slightest sign of misfortune send him spiraling so easily down a pit of depression? Why was he already so… so absorbed in all of this when anything had yet to even happen? Was it because he'd experienced it all before and knew what was going to happen?

"ARGH!" He slammed his fist on the table and got up. On his way to the door, he grabbed his keys from a hook on the wall. He might as well go walk.

As Masaomi treaded through the busy streets, he felt the clouds pass over him, heard the shuffling of feet, the chattering of voices, stepped into a puddle of water, of oil, of toxic waste for all he knew. He felt a gaze on his back, whether from a stranger or a stalker, he didn't know.

He looked to his right. There was a woman with hair like Anri-chan's, wearing a pink yukata. Could she be a cosplayer? A waitress at a themed café? Something else entirely?

He looked to his left. An albino in some sort of navy blue uniform speed-walked by yelling something along the lines of "Sakura, run! We're late!" Yep, they were cosplaying.

To his right again was something far more ordinary: two policemen checking their watches and looking around. Could they be waiting to change shifts? Eager to get home to their wives? Did they have families? Did they have a good relationship with their relatives? Were they worried about their spouses being unfaithful?

Is this how Izaya-san sees the world? Masaomi wondered. Did he view everyone as a story waiting to be told? Best not to think about it, he decided.

But he couldn't not think about it — about how everyone's eyes stared forward, all thinking different things, holding such contrasting opinions, recipes for chaos… and yet, on the outside, they all looked the same. They could've been friends, lovers, coworkers, classmates, but what did they really think; what did they really know about each other? With everyone holding such different perspectives, who could get along despite all that? What did it matter if someone was happy on the outside when they could've been dying on the inside?

Like he and Mikado. In the end, all this thoughts came to Mikado.

Masaomi shook his head. He wasn't thinking straight. His best friend was manipulating him so that he only had one choice — one effective choice — left. What was he doing, caving in? But this was what he had to do, and he was sure Mikado knew it too.

Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his cellphone. Opened it. Went to his contacts. Clicked the first person. Typed the message. Sent it. Second person. Message. Send. Third person. Message. Send. Fourth, message, send. Fifth, message, send. Sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth…

He didn't want to think about it, about how he'd been made to do it again. No, he didn't want to think about anything right now.

His parents praised him for being responsible enough to live on his own in the city. He believed himself the opposite. After all, if he'd been responsible, wouldn't be bringing back the Yellow Scarves yet another time.

Checking the Dollars chat one last time and finding still nothing, Masaomi closed his flip-phone. He turned around and headed back to his apartment.

Nothing eventful happened today, he tried to convince himself, Nothing, nothing, nothing. It'll be nothing compared to what will happen in the near future. No, today was uneventful, so prepare yourself.

Masaomi looked around himself at the surrounding crowds. He pitied them, yet never envied them more.

The man placed more pieces on the board. They stood not behind, but around the White King. They were smaller — pawns, perhaps — but they trapped their King. He had to command them, lest they command him. Additionally, a Black Queen and its small militia stood to serve their Black King, bringing the Blue Squares into the picture as well.

Izaya sat back in his couch. The Yellow Scarves army was back, but was their General ready to lead them?

Somewhere else, not too far away, another boy laid down a game board for the first time. It was an old checkers board that he'd brought with him when he moved to the city, but never got around to using. He only had chess and checkers pieces, nothing fancy, but they would do.

He placed a White King on the board for his friend, Anri-chan as his White Bishop, and Shizuo-san as his White Queen — though Masaomi wouldn't know it yet. He chuckled at the thought of the frightening debt-collector as a fancy queen.

He then placed himself on the board as the Black King, and his Black Bishop would be Aoba-kun. Some checkers pieces behind the two of them and around White King Masaomi represented their gangs. White Pawns he placed around Anri-chan the Bishop as her Saika Army.

Lastly, he placed a Black Queen on the board. After all, he'd heard from Namie-san that Izaya-san could be more high-maintenance than a girl sometimes.

A gold medal to whoever caught the giant reference I dropped! See ya later! 0w0 ~~~