Author's Note: This was a race against the clock to get up, my internet kept cutting out. hsdjfhsdjfhsjdhfsdf. I MADE IT THOUGH.

'Why did you join this site?'
'How do you feel about me?'

Izaya laughed. His chair kicked out from where it had been tucked under the table, his arms thrown up above his head, dancing with a glee he didn't really feel. He was used to outward shows of emotions, he was used to playing roles, and this one was no different. This mask of his had been slipping lately, and it was about fucking time he put it back in place. Shinozuka Heikichi wasn't going to ruin it for him, he wasn't going to ruin the game and he wasn't going to ruin Izaya's mood. He was in control, Izaya was, he always had been, always would be. The second that Shinozuka was in charge would be the second that Izaya would make sure a knife found its way to his neck. Shinozuka's of course, what use was Izaya himself dying? He couldn't leave his humans alone after all, couldn't leave all of this behind.

The whole idea was laughable. Shinozuka wanted to know did he, he wanted the truth? Ha. Ha. He couldn't handle the truth even if Izaya gift-wrapped it in some pretty box and presented it to the man with a free plate of the finest sushi. Normal men didn't understand games like his, they just didn't. That's why they were always just pawns and never the Kings and Queens on the board, just pawns. And yet- and yet- there was something princely about Shinozuka. Izaya guessed it was that stupid purity the man had, that stupid pride or valour or whatever the hell had meant that Shinozuka had gone for twenty-four years without being used by some scumbag before.

It was laughable, wasn't it? Asking a man like Izaya what he felt. Izaya didn't feel, he didn't feel a damn thing anymore. That wasn't good for business, or so he'd been told, and he'd taken those words to heart, had never looked back since. Fuck this and fuck that, it worked for him, he didn't need anything, he didn't need emotion to run his life and run it well, he didn't need anything or anyone, certainly not men like—

Izaya laughed because he didn't know what else he was supposed to do.

He didn't understand, and that was saying something, because Izaya knew everything, there wasn't a thing he didn't know. The information broker made everything his business, he knew every single detail inside and out, knew how they acted and what made them tick, he knew about every, single thing, except one. One irritating, fucking, man; Shinozuka Heikichi was going to be the death of him. He was a monster, a monster, a monster, so then why was Izaya feel so—

'Shino-chan certainly doesn't hang around does he? I like that in a man~.

You want to know why? Honestly and truly?
I was bored, and playing games is no fun alone.
And you? You fascinate me, you're fun~
I know everything about you and you still manage to surprise me.
Ah~ makes me sound so heartless, doesn't it?'

That would satisfy the man wouldn't it? Shinozuka was used to feeding off of the barest details of Izaya's life, the way he felt on a subject if the other man really pressed, though he rarely did. It was true, every word that he'd written, and yet there was no way that Shinozuka could read it to truly understand Izaya, there was nothing in there that told the other man anything of himself. That was a good thing, it was. He saw humans make that mistake every day. That was the number one rule in life, never open yourself up to someone, or else they'll destroy you. That was just how the world worked, simple facts of life, something that if Izaya had his way every child would be taught in school. Give up now, just give up, and live for yourself, for no one else other than you. Be fucking selfish, because that's just what everyone else in life was, selfish, selfish, selfish. And hey, hey, heeeey, it had gotten Izaya to where he was, it had gotten him this high life, this big home, this fabulous existence. Fabulous and wonderful and—

The work that Izaya had been doing for Shiki was shoved to one side of his desk now, forgotten and shoved way down on his priorities list. Fuck it and fuck Shiki, he could deal with it all later once he'd crushed these stupid ideas that Shinozuka had gotten to get to know Nakura – no, no Izaya – better. What a laughable notion, what a stupid, idiotic, pathetically human and hopelessly fucking sickly sweet romantic idea. Idiot, bastard, stupid, stupid, stupid—

Izaya was being stupid by letting this get to him. He just had to lie. He was good at lying. It was like second nature to him, his tongue was as sharp as his knife, able to build up a wall of words around himself in mere seconds, in the single blink of an eye. People scheme and people lie and Izaya was one of them. He lied all the time, when it suited him and even when it didn't, just to see what twisted situations would come of it. He had lied then and it had saved him from his downfall, back then, in those dark days- those days- those—

'Who fucked you up so badly that even now you throw up walls around yourself?
I can go knock some sense into them if you like, I'm pretty strong, ya know?'

The information broker laughed at that. He did. He really did. One of those few laughs that he actually meant, one of those few genuine shows of amusement, and had lost the tinny edge of the laugh that he had forced out earlier. The very idea of Shinozuka doing just that was laughable, it was a hopeless human thing to say, such a naïve notion that a gesture like that would make everything better. It seemed that his Shinozuka was still just the same as ever, regardless of the fact that he and some scumbag had gotten hot and heavy in an apartment that Izaya imagined must be seedy and vile. It was like that cliché couple thing wasn't it? The jealous partner, always out to protect their lover, always getting over protective. Their partner would always scold them for that, tell them they were stupid, and yet their always secretly liked it, didn't they? Not that that was happening here, because Izaya didn't need protecting, not anymore, he had learnt to fight his own battles, had learnt to stand on his own two feet, he had, and that was all that mattered. He didn't need anyone, he didn't. Never did and never would.

But fuck, when had Shinozuka gotten so damn sharp? When had the man stopped just being a naïve idiot and actually started to see and look into their emails? He must have started to realise the meaning behind what Izaya was saying, or in this case, the significance of what he wasn't saying must have given the game away. Aw, no, no, it was cute, it was, and Izaya was so flattered, this man, worried for him, for his mental state. He didn't need to be. Izaya was fine, right as rain, sane as the next information broker in town— oh wait, no, no, he'd run him out of the city, ha. Ha. Didn't matter, didn't change a thing. Izaya wasn't crazy, he didn't need help. Shinozuka was just being curious, that was all, it would go away, all Izaya had to do was lie enough to make the other man shut up with awkward questions that Izaya didn't want to answer.

Yeah, yeah, he was good at lying. It was easy, easy as breathing or skipping down the street or dodging vending machines in the afternoon sunlight. And yet— and yet— When Izaya clicked onto the reply button, when he started to type out a reply, he couldn't think of one single reply to satisfy himself or Shinozuka. But he still continued to type, and type, and type, and by the time his reply had done, there was just pure truth in the words that he had written.

'Eh~ I think I'll pass on that. I'd rather you didn't get beaten up~.
What would I do to pass the time without you Shino-chan, heh?

Love is a monster, Shino-chan. Ah~ but you wouldn't know this, would you?
Not all men are going to give you what you want; never forget that~
Some of them are just going to toss you away like a cheap doll no matter what you feel.
I met a man like that once.'

It was all too fucking much. It was stupid; it was irritating that his own game had been turned on him this way, and it was ridiculous that his own plaything was saddling him with these unnecessary feelings. This wasn't part of the plan, this wasn't supposed to happen. Izaya could feel the dizzying reality crashing down on him; he could feel the grip on his control slipping from his fingers with every email that passed between him and this man. When had they taken such a violent shift in relationship, when had everything turned, when had Shinozuka gone from a mere pawn to a Prince, on his way up to the spot of King. What a game this was turning out to be, even more turbulent than anything Izaya had played before.

It was stupid it was—

The paperwork at the other end of the table just seemed like a bad reminder now, of the past that had been unwittingly dredged up by the idiot, the moron, the bastard on the other end of the email connection. Shiki didn't care, Shiki probably wasn't even aware that Izaya was still thinking of whatever the fuck had gone down when he had been just a young, foolish kid. Of course even teenagers need someone to look up too, and when Izaya had left home, when he had run from- ha! When he had run from feelings that he didn't need, from baggage weighing him down at home, he had needed one even more. A scrawny boy of barely fifteen, fuck, of course he had needed someone. Izaya wasn't normal, he never had been, and yet there was that flicker of humanity in him, that tiny spark of desperation that he had long since squashed down. Of all the people that could have picked him up on the street in his first week since he had left home, had left his parents on an angry whim, he was lucky that it had been Shiki. Ha, ha. Had it been? The man had been his downfall, the man had been the one to craft Izaya into who he was today, he had been, it had been—fuck, so long ago and yet it was all still. Clear as glass, sharp as the blade of Izaya's knife. Shiki had been everything that Izaya had looked up too, had been everything to him, in every possible fucking sense of the word.

But love was a monster wasn't it, and now Izaya could barely dare to look at the man. He couldn't look at that scarred face without feeling queasy just thinking of whatever the mess of events were that had happened back then. Back then. It was flooding back, and Izaya hated it. He hated Shinozuka for bringing it up, he hated the paperwork for hanging around like a bad reminder, and he hated himself because it didn't matter because he didn't need anyone, certainly not Shiki. No, no, that bastard was happy now wasn't he? He was content and he didn't have any trouble calling Izaya in for work, he didn't feel a thing remembering what he had done to a still broken teenage boy. Bastard, bastard, bastard- if the man didn't have so many juicy cases, so many connections, and such a place in Izaya's respect even now, he was sure he would have stuck a knife in his neck long ago.

Izaya didn't need feelings. They got him nowhere. They were messy and pathetic and he had watched human after human crumble down before, in front of his eyes, because their hearts were broken or because they felt so fucking sad. Boo hoo. Izaya didn't care. He didn't have a heart. It didn't matter what Shinozuka said. He was heartless, he was a cold, cold bastard and that dumb moron wasn't getting another thing from Izaya's – no, no, Nakura's – mouth. Izaya didn't share, whether it was food or love or personal past history, Izaya didn't share.

He was still fuming at the paperwork, at himself, whatever, whatever, he didn't know, he wasn't mad. He was ice, he was lighting, he didn't feel a thing, cold and hot and dangerous and cool and what, and what. He was fine, he was cold, he was absolutely fine. Shiki was just some guy, some guy he got work from. It had all been going so well, Izaya had been doing so well in forgetting, had settled into a good life for himself away from all of that, all of the mess that came with Shiki and with him. He had his humans and his work and his games and that was good, and then Shinozuka had come barging in and ruined it all. Fucking oaf, dumb, idiot, moron—

The little voice of his computer broke through with a chipper chorus of 'You have mail!' Izaya wanted to punch a hole in the screen to shut it up. He was turning more and more into the brute by the second. There was another ping, and Izaya's eyes drifted to the inbox, finding it filled with the name of the man who had him so wound up. It was odd, it was annoying, and yet—

'I'm sorry, Nak. I understand.'

Sorry? Sorry for what? For what had happened to him? For bringing it up? Yes, yes, he had better be fucking sorry, because Izaya was feeling all these stupid feelings, all of this. He didn't like it. He didn't understand. What the hell was going on? It was dizzying, it was petrifying. Izaya felt like he had caught some kind of virus that was burning through his system, that was the only way to explain it, wasn't it? Sorry, sorry, sorry. What was sorry? What did sorry mean? He understood? Understood what? He didn't know anything, he didn't know what happened, he didn't know anything, anything, he knew nothing.

Sorry couldn't fix everything, and yet—

There was a cool, calming wave that seemed to be spreading through Izaya's gut now, cooling the fire, cooling the temper that had been seething under his skin. Sorry, sorry. Shinozuka was understood. Izaya wasn't going to acknowledge when he had started shaking or when liquid had pooled in his eyes – it was his allergies, clearly Namie had neglected to dust over here.

No one understood. No one was sorry for anything that happened to him. Ever. Never. Shiki hadn't. And yet—

Shinozuka understood. He was sorry.

What the hell did that mean nothing at all—?

And everything all at once?