Advice

Shizuo steps out into the street and begins to walk aimlessly. He's not allowed back to work, mostly under Tom's request, and sticking around at his place doing nothing is the last thing he wants to do. He searches for his trusty pack of cigarettes and picks one out. The lighter flicks on, coloring the cigarette in his mouth with red-orange hues, instantly easing the negativity that was brewing inside. The neigh of a supernatural stallion echoes and stops him in his tracks. Within a matter of seconds, the headless rider and her companion are at his side.

["What's going on, Shizuo? I haven't seen or heard from you in a while."]

"Can't really do much with this leg, y'know."

["Didn't think you'd be one to follow Shinra's rules."]

Shizuo chuckles. "Well, I need to get better or else I won't be able to work."

["You know you can always talk to me whenever you need to, right?"] And he did, but how can he talk to anyone about this mess? He knows he can trust Celty with anything, that she wouldn't judge him or make him feel like a fool and yet...

"Yeah, I know." Puff.

["Hop on. Let me give you a ride home."]

Before he can reject the offer, a sleek, black helmet manifests itself on his head. He takes a long puff from his half-smoked cigarette, throws it on the floor, and hops on.

During the ride, he thinks of ways to talk to Celty about Izaya without giving too much away. How can he accurately describe the way he feels when he thinks about the flea, or sees him, or hears him? It's like having a million butterflies, no, scratch that...It's like having a billion of Izaya's trusty flickblades slashing at the insides in the pit of his stomach. And as if that wasn't enough, his heart beat quickens, his head begins to spin, and everything feels like it's going to crumble around him. And yet, everything would be just fine if he can get him in his arms.

Shooter parks and he get's off. He looks at Celty, considers telling her what he's come up with, but doesn't. Instead, he asks, "How do I tell someone that I, y'know, think about them a lot?"

[The best advice I can give you is to be honest. If this person is making you feel this way, let them know."]

"You mean, like Shinra?"

[Granted Shinra can be a little too honest about his feelings towards me, but if he wasn't I wouldn't be able to consider returning those feelings some day.]

"Hmmm." Shizuo knows it's a long shot, but maybe Izaya will be able to do the same. "Well, thanks for the advice."

["No problem."] The PDA disappears into her sleeve.

Shizuo pats the front bender of Celty's bike, thanks Shooter for the ride, and watches as they zoom down the street.

He walks into his house, throws himself on his bed and reaches inside his pocket. His eyes watch as the light coming from his window reflects on the flickblade Izaya left on the floor a few nights ago. His fingers trace the sharp edge of the blade, swiftly brushing up and down, admiring the resemblance it holds with it's owner. He kicks of his shoes, rolls on his side and sets the blade on his nightstand.

"Goddamn flea," is the last thing he says before he falls asleep.