A/N: In answer to your unasked question, no, I have no idea what this is.
But eh, might as well you know.
The last chapter may be completed eventually. I don't fucking know, don't look at me.
Enjoy!
"You're smoking more than you used to," Tom, my boss, observes as he steps out of the building he'd just been inside of.
"I am?" Taking my eyes off the irritating drizzle that's graying the skies of Ikebukuro, I glare at my cigarette, which hangs between my fingers, before glancing back at Tom. He shrugs as he joins me, sighing as he too observes the rain.
"You used to go through about three packs a week," he says, still somewhat distracted by the unpleasant sight before us. "You're up to six now." It seems like an offhanded comment, but it still makes me grunt under my breath in acknowledgment. He has a point, of course, I have been smoking more. It's an unfortunate side effect of the past year that I haven't been able to shake.
"I guess," is my only response. The taste of the nicotine rolls over my tongue, always with that buzzing dullness that makes me take another drag. Complying, I lift the cigarette to my lips and suck on it, eyes still fixed on the downpour. Why anyone would be out in this, I have no idea.
The familiar gnawing irritation claws at the back of my head as I blow out a stream of smoke. I'm so sick of this shit.
"You've been pretty stressed this year," Tom continues and I twitch at the words, familiar irritation rising in my stomach. He's right, I have been, but it's not exactly something I want to think about. Mind rebelling, I take another drag before realizing my cigarette is basically done for. Ash trickles off the end pathetically.
When I don't respond, Tom glances at me and tilts his head. "Didn't that info broker vanish a year ago?" Whatever's left of my cigarette crumbles between my fingers. Izaya. "You really laid into him, didn't you?" A year, gone, driven out by me.
I don't want to react, those words shouldn't affect me a year after the fact, yet my mouth opens anyway and I growl, "This has nothing to do with that piece of shit." I can't help but bristle, Tom's words stick a hot needle into my brain and instantly I'm needing another cigarette. Craving it with a wild intensity that makes the headache behind my eyes flare up once more.
No, I'm craving something else. Furious with myself, I close my mind tightly against those persistent thoughts. Calm, I need to fucking calm down.
"Sorry." Tom can see the way my jaw tenses, see my hand clench till the knuckles whiten. "I'm prying, it's none of my business, forget I asked." His eyes flick back to the dreary rain, the one-sided conversation, forgotten. Almost resentful, I paw at my pockets and fish out a fresh stick. Smoothly lighting up, I try to bring that flash of emotions under control.
He's right, of course. He usually is when it comes to my mental state. It all revolves around Izaya, it all ends with me fucking it up in the name of quitting it. Quitting him.
Rolling his shoulders, Tom mutters, "Well, I was waiting to see if the rain would let up but it doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon." He looks at me and gives a what-can-you-do kind of shrug. "We'll finish today's work tomorrow. See you Shizuo."
Shaking myself from my brooding thoughts, I raise my free hand in farewell. "Later Tom-san." As my boss grimaces and ducks out into the rain, the light in my eyes dulls once again. Alone, this shit is always so much worse. Nothing to break up the underlying anger running through my blood.
For the past year, I've been slogging through one day after another, never able to find a break in the fog. Twitch, angry, unable to focus, unable to sleep. It's like withdrawal, but so much worse. The headaches never go away and the craving never fades. It's why I've been smoking more than I used to. Every cigarette is another attempt to crush the regret and need that eats at me.
It's not working, obviously. If Tom has noticed, I must be losing it completely. But then, I knew that. I'm at the end of my rope.
Unfortunately, it doesn't really matter, I can't change anything. Izaya's never coming back, I'll never see that flea again. Good, I hate him! No, no I don't. I haven't for a long time. Addicted is what I am, hooked on a high I should have gotten over years ago, even before he left.
Now I'm without a fix, without a way out.
Sighing, I step into the rain and start my long trek home. Instantly it covers me, a permeating mist that pisses me off, even though I can do nothing about it at all. The hole in my stomach grows and I grind my teeth around my cigarette.
It's fucking stupid. This whole thing is just ridiculous. It's my fault I'm in this position at all. I just got so sick of it, the memories and the addiction and the want. The confusion every time I got too close to Izaya. Every breath of smoke is a reminder of him. The roof, that one taste of what I can never have, the constant need for more.
But I tried to crush that desire, crush it as I almost killed Izaya for good, finally ridding myself of him. Well I certainly fucked that up, right? I didn't kill him, I just drove him away. I hate him, but I wish he was still around.
It was so much easier when I was just chasing after him, trying to get him to leave me alone because it made the addiction worse. It made my temper flare and my skin itch. If hate had been all it was, this would have all been so much simpler.
But it isn't, and now I'm paying the consequences. Sucking on my cigarette, hoping the rain doesn't put it out, I force my mind to go blank, just focusing on the street and nothing else. It runs with water, the fog making it swim. It's like walking through a fucking cloud and I hate it, but I can't find it in me to care.
One foot in front of the other. Forget the past, pray the future won't be so shitty.
Out here, there's hardly anyone walking about. It's too miserable, it's too wet. I haven't seen a single person yet but it's weird, I still feel someone's eyes on me. The familiar prickle is irritating, strange. Puffing out a stream of smoke I ignore the feeling. It's Tokyo, someone's always watching, someone always knows.
But this feels different, a forgotten pulse at the base of my neck, the tick of an eyebrow, a presence, too close to me for comfort. Then I hear the shifting of feet over wet pavement, so familiar, so foreign. Stopping, I turn slowly, needing to know.
His eyes haven't changed. Not really. They've faded, dulled somewhat, but they're the same crimson splash in the shadowy dark that I remember. His clothing is soaked, his coat hangs off of him like a dead weight. Whatever damage I'd done to him last time we'd clashed has faded, his posture is straight, his chin, held high. Despite all of this, he looks like a shell, like he's hollow.
Taking a breath, I catch that familiar musk I haven't smelled in a year and somehow, the throbbing headache at my temple just dies. Vanishes like it never existed in the first place.
Izaya's mouth suddenly twitches, dragging upwards in the ghost of a familiar snide smile."Shizu-chan," he purrs, stirring something within me. "Funny seeing you here."
It's not funny though, my brain is still struggling to catch up with my reality. The face of my old enemy doesn't infuriate me like it used to, doesn't get under my skin. Part of me wants to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he's real. The rest of me wonders what I did to deserve this shit. Him, here, after everything. What do I even say?
Softly, wondering if he's going to bolt if I move too quickly, I murmur, "Izaya." The word hangs between us. He doesn't vanish, he just watches me, empty red eyes searching me for something that I can't begin to guess. Wanting to know, needing to really, I ask, "What are you doing in Ikebukuro?" The taste of my cigarette mingles with what bit of Izaya's scent hasn't been smothered by the rain and I can feel those cravings start to dissipate.
Izaya sneers, narrowing his eyes cruelly even though it doesn't quite agree with his body language. "Maybe I'm here because I want to be Shizu-chan." The words are so familiar, taunting, baiting, course and cutting. It would be just like last year, except his expression is frozen, I know it means shit. Maybe that's why the familiar anger doesn't rise to the surface, maybe that's why all I can do is fucking stare at him.
But I can see he's ready to move, ready to run if need be. Even now, maybe especially now, he's prepared to run from me. Do I scare him now, or is he just trying to piss me off?
"I thought you were never coming back." The words slip out before I can stop them, I've always been shit at controlling my mouth. Izaya's smirk fades for a moment as if I'm confusing him. Perhaps it's because I've never talked to him like this, without the rage, without the tension. After all this time, the stress the very mention of his name makes me feel, this tastes of peace and I've been craving it for so long, it's intoxicating.
Just like he's always been.
"What a shame then that I came to ruin your wonderful life without me," Izaya says with an overdone frown, almost mocking me. I can't tell what his endgame is, he's not making any sense. "I hope you've enjoyed your year of peace."
Is that what you think this last year has been? "Flea," I mutter, wanting to say it, unsure how to. Finally, that familiar rage is bubbling up but it isn't directed at Izaya, it's all at myself. Because even face to face with the man I'm supposed to hate, the one I almost killed not a year before, I don't want to kill him. I just want my fix, I want the cravings to stop.
I expect him to run, I don't expect him to smirk bitterly before reaching up and snatching my forgotten cigarette from between my lips. Fixing me with a dark look, Izaya lifts the stick to his mouth, gently wrapping his lips around the end in a way that takes me back to that day in high school. Taunting eyes and a dangerous smirk. Spicy lips and hot, wet breath.
I'm not even sure how to react as he takes a drag and releases it in my direction. It smells like nicotine, it tastes like him.
"Addicting as ever," he says softly, a certain sadness overtaking his eyes that doesn't agree with the grin on his face. "Ne, Shizu-chan?" Flicking the remainder of my cigarette away, the raven turns tail and runs.
Instantly, I'm caving.
Instinctually I tear after him, running through the foggy rain, not a thought in my head. I get it now, I understand what he was trying to do. He wants me to chase him, he wants this, needs it as much as I do, I think. The emptiness I'd sensed from him is still in the air, tainting this fight. It's unlike what we're used to, no rage, no malice. Just a chase, just the sounds of our feet pounding against the wet pavement.
The rain gets in my face, the fog makes it almost impossible to see but I follow Izaya regardless. Neither of us says a word, there's nothing left to say. I'm not even sure why I'm chasing him. I don't want to kill him, I don't even want to hurt him. Compared to our usual fights, there's not a bit of damage. I just want to catch him, I'm fucking sick of this constant state of withdrawal. Izaya's the one source of relief, and if he wants me to chase him, I won't say no.
My legs twinge, I haven't done this in a long time. No point with Izaya gone. He's always been an addiction, always pushed me over the edge. Is this any different? Am I going to end up killing him at last? For the first time in a long time, my mind is absolutely clear.
No, I'm not going to kill him, but I probably should. He deserves it, and I'm not sure what other relationship we have. It's all unhealthy, it's been festering since we met and it's only now surfacing.
Izaya doesn't move as smoothly as he used to. I wonder if it's because of what I did to him last year, or if it's the fault of something else entirely. Even his movements ring hollow, bitter and tired. There's something disturbingly final about the way he darts through the streets ahead of me, like this single moment has his entire focus, like there aren't any more plans, any more schemes.
It doesn't sit right, but at some level, I understand the man. This is it, this is the deciding factor that will determine our future. Both of us know it, and both of us are racing towards the finish line. I can tell because Izaya isn't trying to escape, he's just trying to get me to follow.
He's crazy, we're both fucking insane. But aren't all addicts the same?
We're all just looking for our fix.
I'm sick of that fix being Izaya. His biting words and cruel smile. I want to be free of him but something tells me that killing him won't help. It'll only make it worse. Izaya's the only solution, the constant thorn in my side. The thing I can't help but crave.
The cure.
Izaya speeds up abruptly, distracting me from my thoughts. Easily I push myself harder until I'm matching his pace. I can see his coat through the rain now, rippling even though it's soaked through with the water that covers us both. Maybe he's losing momentum.
Maybe we're just reaching the end of this chase.
Suddenly, he darts into an alley. Forcing myself to slow down so I don't slip on the wet pavement, I follow. Izaya's already disappeared again but I can smell him in the air, still see the traces of his running footsteps. Quickening my pounding steps, I track him, undaunted.
Izaya's never scared me, he's only ever annoyed me and right now, he isn't even doing that.
His path is twisting, I have to wonder if he's even thinking about where he's going. The only commonality is how the air gets dryer the deeper we go, the rain slowly becoming closed off by the leaning buildings above us. All that's left is an odd mist, still obscuring my vision, warming me after the chill of the rain above.
Then the noise cuts out as Izaya's distant footsteps stop suddenly. This is it, I think, slowing down as I near the place where the man lies in wait. Whatever happens next, it's over. The thought is a relief, a blanket that smothers the buzzing at the back of my throat.
I don't have to slowly go crazy, I've got Izaya.
For an enemy, his presence is a heavy comfort.
As I turn one last time, I finally find him. He's leaning against the wall, eyes shadowed yet so fucking bright. For the first time this evening, there's life in him, a return of the old Izaya that I've been wanting to see again so fucking much. I don't bother advancing on him, why bother, this is it.
But there's something about the way he's standing that makes my stomach twist. Defeated, open. Waiting for me. Waiting for an end. Except it's not the end I expected him to want, he's waiting for me like he wants me to kill him. Like some twisted form of assisted suicide that makes me feel sick.
Needing a cigarette, just as a distraction rather than a fix, I dig around in my damp pocket. The carton is wet, which is mildly discouraging but I draw one out nevertheless. With unhurried movements, I pull out my lighter as I fit the stick between my lips. It takes a few seconds longer than usual for the cigarette to actually light. The paper's still wet, but eventually, the small flame dries it enough for it to flare up, glowing bright red before softening to a smoldering hue.
Taking a drag, I wonder what I'm supposed to do and if I can change the path Izaya seems determined to follow.
There's a light chuckle from the end of the alley, bitter yet no longer so empty. If anything, it sounds desperate. Pleading. Thin hands move up to bring down his sodden hood. "It's been a while, ne Shizu-chan?" Izaya asks, his voice so calm like he doesn't care about a fucking thing.
Why does it have to be him? Removing the cigarette from my mouth, I laugh softly, letting the smoke spill from my lungs. "Yeah, it has been a while Izaya." Slowly, I walk forward, watching him carefully, sadly almost. I need you Izaya, I wish I could just hate you. My brows crease as I add in a troubled voice, "This is where I'm supposed to kill you, isn't it?" I wonder if he can hear the rueful note in my voice. I don't hate you though, I'm addicted, you got me addicted to you.
It was never the fucking cigarettes, it was only ever Izaya.
Izaya's gaze is regretful, I'm not imagining it at all. He doesn't want to die, he's just tired. Tired of being empty I guess, tired of being addicted, with no hope of getting better. "Yes," he whispers, regardless. "I suppose it is."
Nodding, I gradually draw closer. He doesn't run, he doesn't draw a weapon. He just waits for me. Funny how a year ago, this would have been the best thing imaginable, just him sitting still while I killed him. Now, it makes me wonder if I really have a single goddamned idea what I'm doing.
I can smell him, his personal scent tainting the air like blood, like wretched agony. Didn't I use to claim he smelled like shit? Hah, that would be preferable. This is intoxicating, addicting, soothing, coaxing. Fucking annoying. It mixes with the cigarette smoke between us, thickening the foggy air that much more.
Flatly, I ask, "Did you do this on purpose?" Well, I never did mince my words, did I? Shit like that wastes time, makes me feel like I'm acting like Izaya. "Were you even thinking?" There's not enough distance between us, there never is. It's always just close enough to make me crave it. Make me want to get rid of it.
Izaya's face crumples in confusion. "What?" I don't move any closer, I just stand there, only a few meters away. Frustrated, he spits, "Of course I did this on purpose Shizu-chan, did you think I'd really let you catch me if I didn't want you to?" Well, that answers one question, he's planning on me killing him.
"You know that's not what I meant." Closer. I'm reminded of the roof, the heady, smoky air. All that curiosity, all that simmering hatred. Everything that brought us here, to this point. Kind of like fate, but more of a bastard.
The man can't meet my eyes. "I was bored Shizu-chan, I'm always bored." He does remember, I can see it on his face. "It was a game, you're a game. I'm letting you win so just end it already. I'm tired of this." Now I can pick up on the distress, the way his fists clench by his sides. We're both so fucked up, it's not even funny.
"What are you tired of?" There's only inches between us, one of my hands splays out over rough brick, the other takes the cigarette out of my mouth. That buzzing is back, intense, angry. Izaya still won't look up at me. "Tell me Izaya," I say, my voice coming out like a growl. "Fucking tell me."
"I'm tired of feeling empty," Izaya says softly, looking up all at once. His crimson eyes swirl with a million emotions, intense, full of life. Reflecting the smoke obscuring the air back at me. "So do it, kill me."
The hand above his head falls and tangles in his wet hair. "No."
He tastes just like I remember. Hot, spicy, bitter, dark. Bloody almost, fearless maybe. Desperate, always so fucking desperate. The world falls silent in that moment, all the shit I've been dealing with for a year, since I met him even, drains away. It's just the feeling of his mouth moving gently against mine and the shallow breaths that ghost past the skin of my cheek.
I've known the solution for a year now. The solution is him.
Drawing back, the tears in his eyes catch me off guard. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with them, with him really. Yet I find myself awkwardly rubbing at them, dragging them across his already damp face. "Thank you," he whispers, unexpectedly. Faintly I can sense his fingers clutching at my vest. "Thank you Shizu-chan."
It's strange. Alone, in this warm, misty dead-end, we're not putting on a show, we're not even ourselves really. We're just the broken piece of what we used to be, addicts struggling to put ourselves back together.
"It's raining out," I mutter, even though that's obvious already. "You're soaked." And shivering, and cold, and your lips are blue. Izaya doesn't even roll his eyes, which shows how far gone he really is. Making a decision that I'll probably regret later, I tug at one of the hands still fisted in my clothing. "Come on, my place is closer."
Izaya's eyes flicker, and I have no idea what he's thinking when he murmurs back, "Fine."
The rain picks up as we work our way out of the alleys.
A/N: Yup.
Bet you saw that coming, huh.
Nah, don't count your eggs before they're laid, I still haven't decided if I should give these two a happy ending or not!