Warnings: General warnings can be found in chapter one. Specific warnings for this chapter: naughty dreams, bad trips, self harm.

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Heiwajima Shizuo did not really consider himself a good man, as such. In fact, he thought of himself as a werewolf in puppy clothing, rather than the standard proverbial predator in herbivore clothing – which, if he was to be completely honest always had confused him. What the hell kind of sense was that supposed to make? A wolf would still think and act like a wolf, so the disguise would be useless after about a minute anyway. No, that saying was stupid. A werewolf had at least had a puppy stage to go through, so that would be more probable, or so he thought, at least. No, Shizuo didn't think of himself as a good man at all. He considered himself to be a monster, and at times he felt sad more than angry that the only person to see him for what he was was the one person he hated with all his soul.

He hated when that deranged informant would giggle and smile and call him a "monster" or "his own precious little freak" or a million other varieties of that theme. It hit too close to home, simple as that.

Shizuo lived his life drowning in either rage or guilt – generally rage that just came from nowhere like a volcanic eruption; burning, consuming, roaring as it bubbled, boiled and tore itself out of him and making his vision tint a bright scarlet that disabled all coherent thought. The guilt followed like a shadow when the rage had died down some; it wrapped itself around him, like vines or chains, it settled itself around his throat and shoulders; squeezing, suffocating, weighing him down and making it hard to move or talk or smile. It was like carrying a mill-wheel on his shoulders wherever he went, and that in itself sometimes was enough to set off another fit of burning rage and destruction. It was almost unbearable, to live with the knowledge that he brought with him little else but destruction and hurt wherever he went. Even his own brother would shy away a bit when Shizuo showed signs of irritation. He never spoke about it, but it genuinely bothered him, this ability of his. It was like being infected with the plague or something the way people could go to such ridiculous lengths to avoid him.

But then, he tried to think of it as a good thing that people stayed away; if they weren't in his vicinity they couldn't get hurt. Thus it made him so angry that that buggered lunatic Orihara Izaya would pop up at the most inconvenient locations with his provocative behaviour. It was like the informant liked to see all the destruction he caused. It was almost like, and this Shizuo tried not to think about too much, like he took pleasure from watching Shizuo lose his temper. It was sick, the way the informant's remarks could have an almost loving note to them in the midst of running for his life and dodging street-signs, trashcans, and what not – like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Shizuo found it unsettling on too many levels to really even want to try and figure out the reason. The Flea was demented, that was all there was to it.

Heiwajima Shizuo considered himself a monstrosity, thus his great surprise when a beautiful woman, out of the blue, chose him as her lover. Akiyama Naomi was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realize that, yes indeed, she was actually flirting with him. Then it had taken him a while longer to realize that she really was serious – despite him being what he was. Naomi was a smart woman, born and raised in Tokyo and a graduate from a prestigious university, of course she knew who he was and what he did for a living – but what blew Shizuo's mind even more than her being attracted to him in the first place was that she didn't seem to care. Like, at all. She was happy if she got to cook a few meals a week for him, sleep in his bed and snuggle with him when the opportunity presented itself. She was a downright goddess in bed, and it had him almost in tears that she trusted him with her body. She didn't mind that he wasn't very romantic, any little thing he did for her had her smiling for hours. She was never scared of his anger; she was witty and funny and would practically bubble if she got him to laugh. It really seemed that she liked Shizuo for who he was, and it scared and thrilled him at the same time. He couldn't help but feel that he didn't deserve her. He just kept waiting for her to leave him behind, to call him a monster, to run.

Three months into his relationship, Heiwajima Shizuo contemplated chickening out.

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The first time Naomi had told him she loved him; Shizuo had found himself at a loss. He didn't know if he could answer her back in honesty. He was very attracted to her, he cherished her and truly wanted to take care of her – but he wasn't certain that was the definition of love. Seemingly being able to sense his distress, she had offered that sweet and warm smile that made him melt and told him it was ok if he couldn't say it just yet. She had all the time in the world. They had all the time in the world. Still, it irked him that he had reacted that way; she was the perfect woman, and so she deserved undying and unconditional love – and thus Shizuo's inability to provide a proof of that made him feel like a downright bastard. When he had tried to apologize, she had only smiled and kissed him and told him she liked to see that he took the words seriously and that she would be very happy when he did say them – 'cause she'd know he truly meant it. It was a slightly bizarre reversed version of "you can never be right when you talk to a woman" – Shizuo could apparently never be wrong! It bothered him.

And now, curse his bad luck, he found himself in that awkward situation again. They were sitting in his couch, Naomi cuddled up in his lap and wrapped in a blanket, and they were watching a movie.

"I love you, Shizuo," she smiled and planted a kiss on hiss jaw. "You really are the best."

The words escaped him before he had a chance to think it over, and minutes later he found himself in the bedroom being practically ravished by this delicate and normally gentle woman. Afterwards, she fell asleep with her head on his chest and an arm wrapped around his waist – leaving Shizuo to his thoughts. He didn't really like being left to his thoughts, as they were becoming more of a mess each day since he met her. It was just so strange, so utterly weird that she had chosen someone like him, and Shizuo couldn't help but being worried about her safety. He knew so well that the thugs and low-lives weren't above hurting lovers or family members of their enemies to get to them – and he didn't want to be the cause of any hurt for Naomi. Sooner would he kill himself than see her injured or in pain! It also made him wary, because he had not seen Izaya in a long time now. Normally they'd be at each other's throats at least a few times a week, but now the informant hadn't set foot in Ikebukuro in three months time, and he was starting to get paranoid that the sneaky bastard was planning something. Shizuo knew his games and could handle them, but Naomi had never seemed to understand what he meant when he said the Flea was dangerous. She'd told him she'd spoken to him one time and that he seemed kind and decent enough – albeit a tad immature, in a cute way. Shizuo knew that if Izaya tried to lead her on into any danger, she'd follow him – because she thought he was cute! It was unbearable, and caused to Shizuo to remain constantly on edge, ready to tackle the slightest sign of Izaya-caused trouble.

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"Have you heard the rumours, Shizuo?" Tom asked as they were walking down the street towards Russia Sushi to get lunch. "About Orihara-san, I mean."

Shizuo looked at him with an eyebrow quirked in question.

"What rumours?" he asked as he lit his cigarette. "He better not be planning any more shit around here, 'cause I'll kill him for sure this time if he does!"

Tom shuddered at the ease with which Shizuo spoke of committing murder. Sure, the informant was a pain in the ass to deal with, but – unbeknownst to Shizuo – Tom had actually hired him himself a few times, and not only had he delivered quicker than anyone else; he had also never got anything wrong. Ever. He delivered 100% truth, whether you liked it or not, and Tom respected him for that – as one professional toward another.

He looked at his back up and tried to figure a good way to start.

"He… uhm, the rumours says he's quitting. That assistant of his has been putting out ads for all his stuff online, and his apartment is up for rent soon. Seems like he's leaving."

"Huh. Good riddance."

"You don't sound overly surprised, Shizuo-kun."

"Nah, the guy's never been one to finish any fucking thing he's ever started. If he's quittin' and leavin' then good. One less asshole lunatic causing a mess around here."

"Yeah, I guess. Plus you can be sure he won't be causing Akiyama-chan any trouble either, ne?"

"If he touches her, I don't care how fast he runs; I'll get him."

"I don't doubt it."

They arrived to the sushi restaurant, made their orders and ate under peaceful silence. Tom, feeling relieved Shizuo didn't seem to wanna explode over the mentioning of Izaya, and Shizuo trying to hide his unexplainable unease at the sudden revelation that the Flea was packing up and leaving. It felt like… like a huge chunk of what little that made sense and routine out of Shizuo's life was suddenly ripped from him. It was surprisingly painful and… bothering. Yes, it really felt bothering. The Flea had always been so adamant about staying in Tokyo, despite the numerous people who'd tried to chase him out over the years. And now all of a sudden he was just leaving? It didn't make the least bit sense even for the Flea!

Most of all, though, Shizuo felt uneasy about the fact that Izaya's impending departure made him feel uneasy. It should make him feel relieved, ecstatic, hopeful and victorious or any other positive adjective, but no. Spreading like frostbite through the pit of his stomach was an ice cold, sinking feeling that caused his heart to feel constricted and his limbs heavy. It didn't make any sense, and he was rapidly becoming aware of the fact that his hand had stopped going about the manual routine of bringing pieces of fish and rice from the plate to his mouth and instead started to crush the metal chop-stick in a vice-like grip while he felt the familiar volcanic heat of wrath colouring his vision a deep, foreboding crimson. Tom must have caught the warning signs, because suddenly a too brightly smiling Simon was by his side, escorting him out and into a nearby alley-way where he could at least try to calm down before someone got hurt. Three trashcans, two street signs and five unfortunate gang-members later, Shizuo got sent home to get himself under control. Naomi was out of town for business, so at least he didn't have to worry about unintentionally causing her any harm.

After a few hours of stomping back and forth through his apartment, laying down, getting back up, taking a cold shower, making coffee and trying to listen to soothing music, Shizuo called one of the few people who could actually help with one of these long winded anger-bouts; Shinra. But when the doctor finally picked up his phone, after an indecent amount of beeps, he hung up almost immediately after saying in a rushed and half panicked tone;

"Shizuo, I'll call you later. There's a bit of an emergency here. Bye!"

Shizuo just sat there with the phone half way from his ear for a few minutes, feeling confused. Nothing was making sense anymore. Putting out what was left of his cigarette, he called it a day. But he didn't get a restful sleep; dream after dream of him chasing Izaya down the streets, only to end up stabbing him in his chest at the same time as he was making the sweetest love to him caused him to twist and turn and fidget until he woke with a start around four am by falling out of bed. He woke up in the middle of the sweetest kiss he'd ever felt, haunted even hours later by the feeling of the informant's soft, pale lips against his and the warm and loving glow of those slanted ruby orbs. What disturbed him the most wasn't the fact that he'd dreamt a sex dream about Orihara Izaya; hell, that god-awful time at his brother's had given him enough material for a lifetime of those – Izaya was a damn good looking guy, after all, and there wasn't a guy in Tokyo that hadn't had those dreams about him – no, what bothered him was the fact that it had felt so right. Just thinking of that kiss made his lower parts rise to attention.

Nothing was making any sense anymore! With an exasperated snarl, he went to take his third cold shower for the day.

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"Calm down, Shinra-chan," came Izaya's rather sluggish voice from the bed upon which he was placed. "It's just a little… just a little cut! Nothing big. Nothing bad. Nothing for the great doctor Shinra to frown his pretty little head at!" He giggled as Celty and the brunette once again wrestled him to the bed and restrained him with thick leather cuffs so that they could search him and find all the other small knives he carried about himself. They had found him on his bathroom floor, a bottle of bourbon and an almost empty bottle of pain killers next to him after a rather distressed Kida had tried to break down the door when the informant hadn't answer when he'd called and the teenager instead had heard the crashing noise of a body falling to the floor behind the bathroom door. It had been a close call – and Izaya's obviously non-sober and disturbed state of mind wasn't making it any easier, especially not when they tried to question him about all the huge knife wounds on his arms and legs. After arriving at Shinra's home, he and Celty literally just turned their back for a moment and then had to hurriedly stop him from opening up any new ones. He managed to get himself a nice deep cut close to the crook of his arm, but they overpowered him easily and got it thoroughly bandaged.

The informant was high as a kite off of a so far unknown substance, but thankfully his strength seemed to have diminished into near nothing, so there was no real danger of him getting out of the cuffs. After they had cleared a total number of seven large and small blades off of his person, they concentrated on getting him hooked to intravenous fluids and a blood bag to help him recover. The informant himself was giggling and humming a lullaby to himself as Shinra sank down in a chair next to his bed. Celty was busying herself with cutting off the few hindering garments he still had on – they didn't dare to release him even for that – and Shinra's heart tightened again and again at every new cut and bruise revealed to them. He knew Izaya without any doubts had some kind of underlying pathology – but which one… he wasn't sure. He was almost certain about PTSD, after seeing a few episodes that even Izaya hadn't managed to sugar-coat, but was there something else? A few years back he had been certain the informant was either a psychopath or suffering from a narcissistic personality disorder – however he didn't match enough criteria for either one of them, and so Shinra couldn't fit him into any proper diagnosis yet. All he could say, and that with the utmost emphasis, was that Orihara Izaya was truly a broken man.

"Izaya-kun," he said slowly, and waited for the flickering gaze of the blacknette to meet his. "Why are you doing this to yourself? You haven't been yourself at all lately. Why can't you tell me what's going on with you?"

Izaya giggled and his gaze flickered away again.

"Why does anything… have to be the matter… Shinra-kun?" He paused to swallow, and no doubt get his vocal cords to cooperate a little longer. "I'm jus- I'm just having a bit of fun!"

"By killing yourself?"

"I'm not! I'm not… I'm living, Shinra-kun. I'm so, so… alive!"

"No, Izaya-kun," Shinra sighed. "You're very sick. I need to know what's wrong, otherwise I can't treat you."

But Izaya wasn't listening. He was giggling, humming and mumbling to himself all kinds of incoherent words that only made sense to him. He was, to put it bluntly, a fucking mess. Celty rapidly typed out;

What are we going to do with him?

"I don't know, love. I don't know."

If Shizuo comes here and sees him like this…

"Yeah, I know. Right now there's nothing we can do but monitor him. See if he can get some sleep. We'll deal with everything else in the morning."

Shinra! I'm worried!

"Aren't we all, Celty? Aren't we all?"

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Akiyama = autumn mountain

Naomi = Honest, straight, beautiful.

Hiya!

Another one of those shorter chapters. Sorry 'bout that, but it started to feel a bit forced, so I decided it was finished.

So, Shizuo's got trouble handling the relationship-life, huh? I feel kinda sorry for him, poor thing! He's finally got himself a nice girl, and then all these new problems just dump themselves on his doorstep. I'm planning to let him wallow in this confusing and angering state of mind for a little. So, don't expect him to go chasing after Izaya in the next chapt or two – 'cause he'll be busy trying to make sense of things. Maybe next time Naomi gets to have a few more lines than the two she had now too, and then we'll get to see who she really is.

And yeah, Shizuo had wet dreams about Izaya, and yes, that is some major whitewashing on his part! He won't be facing up to those impulses in a while^^

Izaya… that's one helluva bad trip right there, and now he's got Shinra's eyes on him. That's not going to go down well once he sobers up, I think… And yeah, I'm making Kida one of the few people he actually likes and who likes him back. He should at least have someone on his side, ne?

With that said, sorry about the long silence – uni as usual. It'll get hectic again starting next week, but I'll do my best to get a good chapter up here as soon as I can :)

Cheers!

/Khordie