Seven Ghosts

Part One

Chapter Four

The Day the Whole World Went Away

[{Orihara Izaya]}

This is not how I pictured my confession to Shizu-chan to go.

It's true. I've crushed on the bastard for years, since I first met him in high school. I guess I just didn't know how to express it in any other way but violence. Besides, he started it. The attempts on his life (though rarely initiated on my part) were just a thrilling, flirtatious dance. It was his own dumb gorilla self that didn't get the picture. If I really hated him, I wouldn't give him the time of day, let alone the full brunt of my former speed and strength in a dangerous game of shoot-to-kill.

And here I was, sobbing like a child in his arms, furious, terrified and resentful. Though content with the fact that it's him and not anyone else that gets to see this side of me.

Let me back up.

Two months ago, it had just gotten too much. The migraines, the constant cramp in my stomach, the degradation of my vision to the point of having the purchase prescription reading glasses and more seriously the black-outs and the twitching...

I'd lost somewhere around twenty pounds in two and a half weeks. I've always been a bit on the underweight side, but this was getting ridiculous. I just couldn't keep anything down anymore. I looked at the scale on a whim one morning once I noticed I could count every single one of my ribs and became alarmed.

So I called up my good old buddy Shinra. Surely a change in diet or more sleep could clear this up with maybe an antibiotic or something. A brief vacation might have been in order. That's what was on my mind while I was talking to him – whether I should go harass Saki and her boyfriend Kida or go abroad, maybe state-side to get away for a few weeks or something.

"Are you listening, Orihara-kun?" Shinra was saying, frowning.

"No, not really," I told him honestly, sipping my tea nonchalantly. "So what, a few weeks off, more sleep? Ooh, maybe a gluten-free diet kick or something, right?"

"This is serious stuff, Izaya," Shinra told me quietly as he shined a light into my left eye. I waved him off.

"Serious stuff doesn't happen to Orihara Izaya," I scoffed. Suddenly my wrist jerked and the tea got dumped on the carpet. Goddammit... "Sorry about that..."

"Tell me more about your migraines."

"Ugh. Debilitating, I can't get out of bed," I complained. "I have to swipe your narcotics to make them go away."

"I thought I'd been a bit short lately..." Glare.

Ignore. "My vision gets all gray and grainy, light and sound are just murder. With the narcotics, they go away after a few hours and if I'm lucky, by the end of the day I can kick around town practicing my Parkour." I shrugged. "If I'm not so lucky, I'm stuck in bed for a few days. I've had migraines before, but the vision thing... I got a little worried."

"And the fact that you're swimming in your own clothes?"

"Oh yeah, that. Lost a bit of weight I guess too."

"A bit? How much?"

"Twenty-three pounds."

"Are you serious? In how long of a span?"

"Hmmmm about two weeks." Once I was in danger of dipping under a mere 100lbs so fast, I figured Shinra had to have some kind of answer for me.

"Why are you not taking this seriously?" was said answer, testing my reflexes by rapping on my knees. He frowned. "Less reflex on the left side..."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"In conjunction with all your other symptoms... yes, I'll be honest. This is quite disturbing."

Now Shinra had me worried. He seemed a bit less frantic now that it was becoming apparent that I was taking him seriously now. Even Celty was looking tense as her shadow writhed about in worry. "So what's wrong with me? Shizu-chan hit me a few too many times to the skull?"

Shinra held out his arms to the side of my head. "Tell me when you can see my fingers." He started to pull them forward.

"Now."

He and Celty exchanged a look that filled me with a sense of dread. I looked to the side and saw that Shinra's fingers were well past my ears and practically in front of me.

I'd lost nearly all of my peripheral vision. It certainly explained why it was harder to catch Shizu-chan in the act of chucking heavy things at me. But even I'd watched enough medical shows to know that this was bad. Very, very bad. The internet was a wonderful thing most of the time, but to have all this useless knowledge stored away that led me to the correct conclusion long before any real testing came back to confirm it was actually pretty scary.

"I've got a tumor," I said blankly, too in shock to really let it sink in yet.

Shinra sighed. "That's what it seems like. I couldn't say for sure without a CT scan."

"No. No doctors in hospitals. Nothing like that," I told him firmly. I. HATE. Hospitals.

"Why not? You NEED this, Izaya-kun!"

"Paper trail." It wasn't a lie. Not really.

"If I call in a favor, will you do it?" Shinra pleaded.

As if I would confess to anyone that I was afraid of anything. "Sure, so long as it's not on record in any way," I agreed.

And that's when they found it. I crammed three Xannax into me to find out not only did they find it, but after a slew of blood tests they said it was cancerous, possibly causing secondary matasticized tumors in other places. Surgery was too risky – it was too close to the medulla, or that place in the brain that controls all the involuntary functions. You know, the important ones like breathing and heart rate.

Pills. Tons of them. Steroids, anticonvulsants and narcotics for the most part. Shinra killed the paper trail, as promised, but apparently not good enough. Somehow my diagnosis remained on record long enough for Shizu-chan to find out in the ER, even though Shinra was handling my day-to-day management of this death sentence.

Yes. This was a death sentence.

Considering that I could just stop breathing or my heart could just decide to kaput any second, I decided to live life as if this were my last breath or heartbeat. It was fun for a while, especially so high I couldn't count strait from all these crazy painkillers to battle the chemotherapy making me miserable. Four weeks of that and I was ready to just say "fuck it."

At least I wasn't losing my hair or anything (myth busted: not all cancer patients lose their hair you know, just the ones on heavy duty radiation usually).

The hatred for this thing invading my life on top of my growing resentment at myself for somehow letting this happen was starting to weigh in pretty heavy. So one day I took about four days worth of those narcotics at once (because I hated taking them and had tons leftover), slashed my wrists and went to go play with Shizu-chan one last time.

Dumbass saved my life.

So there I was, sobbing into his chest, at least grateful that I might get the chance to tell him the reason for all this insanity over the past decade before I die.

I fucking hate being weak.

The comedown is awful, simply awful. I can't even feel my limbs as Shizu-chan picks me up and takes me to my bed, laying me down gingerly with a frown. "You're burning up," he tells me.

"S-side effect," I manage through the sudden chills that wrack my body. "C-cold..."

Shizu-chan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, why am I doing this?" he mutters. "You need a cool shower or something. I don't dare cram more pills down your throat."

"N-no way. To f-fucking cold," I manage, wrapping the comforter over myself. "I want a h-hot shower."

He takes it away and I make a sound of complaint, but too weak to fight him. But goddammit I'm going to try. He's turning on the water already and I'm trying to slink out the room, but I can barely walk all the sudden. Without the narcotics, I'm a wet noodle, and I just hacked them up so they haven't given me any leverage at all. He grabs me and I struggle. I bite and kick and make sounds of annoyance as he strips me and practically throws me into the shower.

I yelp and try to get out but he's blocking the way. "Sh-shizu-chaaan! It's FUCKING C-COLD!"

"It's barely luke-warm, you ass. You made me bleed, I hope your grateful you little shit," he scolds as he holds his arm with a bleeding bite-mark or two on his forearm He's rolled up his sleeves, he's soaked and annoyed and almost as miserable as I am …

But he's trying to help.

I admit defeat in the matter and just sit in the corner of the shower, shivering as the water cascades upon me, pounding on my aching head and running down my bony and shaking shoulders in a way that would have been comforting three months ago.

"Why are you d-doing this f-for me?" I stammer.

"You don't have anyone else to," he says quietly with his back turned, giving me a semblance of privacy in my naked and pathetic state.

"So you pity me."

"Yes."

"Well. Th-that sucks."

Silence.

"Can I g-get out now?"

"Give it a few minutes. You need to cool down."

"It's j-just a side-effect, Shizu-ch-chan."

"Don't care. Shut up and take it."

I manage to chuckle at him. "You're cute when y-you're all caring."

"Whatever."

More silence.

"Izaya, I have a question."

"Sh-shoot."

"Do you have … a bucket list or something?"

I laugh the best I can. "Why do you a-ask?"

"Just wondering. I don't know how serious this is, but I can assume you think you're going to die."

"It's inev-vitable, Shizu-chan. Inoperable. I think Sh-shinra is trying to make me miserable in a p-pathetic attempt to try and s-save me."

"Do you blame him?"

I think on this. "N-no. Why is beyond me, but he's tr-rying. Can I p-please get out now? I'm f-freezing here..."

"Yeah." Shizuo turns off the water and helps me to my feet. He towels me off, helps me pull on a shirt and some boxers, then helps me to bed. After a moment returns with a glass of water and a few painkillers. I take them, getting ready to dash to the toilet in case they don't stay down again. He places my mop bucket next to the bed. "Don't worry about it," he says, knowing why I would try to get in a position to push myself beyond my means to save my sheets.

"Ne, Shizu-chan. You asked me if I had a bucket list."

"You do then?"

"Only one thing is on it, you know."

"What's that?"

I grab him and pull him close, never in a million years able to do this if I didn't think I was going to be dead by morning. "I want to love someone. In an emotional sense that is. I want to know what it's like, you know? But … I'm so hated. I don't think those dying wish cancer organizations could give me that."

Shizuo shifts next to me and looks away. I touch his face and make him look at me, then lay a soft kiss on his lips. "I won't ask you to love me back," I say quietly. "Just … just let me have this for a little while, even if it's with you."

"Izaya..."

"Please?"

"You … I ..."

"I'll be dead by morning, I just feel it. Give me this. It's all I'll ever ask of you."

Shizu-chan sighs and lets me in, returning the kiss in a gentle sort of manner.

As my heart pounds, all I can think of is that I love this gruff, overly strong bastard, and all I want is for him to hold me until my last breath.