Author's Note: EEP! I got an offer from one of the universities I applied for today! So, so happy! This chapter is something just a little different, but it was fun to write. I took a bit of creative licence with Shiki's character here, there isn't much about him in the anime and I've yet to read the light novels etc so this is just me basing a chapter on my head-canons, lol. Hope you like it!

In the position he was in, Shiki wasn't allowed to be soft. When one deals with the monsters of the underworld in the city, being emotional, being soft and compliant is not something that one can indulge in. If he wasn't tough, intimidating, then some jackass would come along and try and take his place. He couldn't have those kids getting cocky; he couldn't have them getting too big for their little boots, and so Shiki always kept up an air of fear to keep those power hungry thugs at bay. It seemed to be working, for there had been no challenges to him despite his distrust of many of his subordinates. Shiki was tough, but it didn't mean that he had morphed into an asshole like so many of the people in his world often did. He was polite, he was, and he still treated his guests with the greatest of politeness, and refrained from judging them on anything until he knew the facts, until he knew their side of the story. That was just Shiki, and he had come to develop this nature of his from years of living in the underbelly of the city, hidden in the shadows.

Izaya would always be different though, even now.

Shiki still remembered the day that he had found him, cut and cold and wet in some dodgy back alley a couple of streets away from where he had been with the gang then. Just a scrawny boy of fifteen as he had later found out, even then there had been something captivating about Izaya. He was pale, and he was bleeding, drenched to the skin from the rain outside and skinny enough to Shiki had been able to make out ribs under the papery skin; but his hair had been the jet black of the dead of night, and his eyes so bright despite it all that Shiki hadn't helped but find something entrancing about him from the very get go. There was something there, something that reminded him of himself when he had first stepped into the underworld and seen what sort of horrors lived there. And when Izaya had replied to Shiki's question of his name with 'the king of Sheba', the old man had known that he had found someone to take under his wing. Even a man like him couldn't leave a boy so obviously in need of a home out in the cold streets, and the mercy of who knew what sort of mad men that roamed Ikebukuro at night. Shiki still remembered the days that followed him bringing Izaya back to stay with them. There was something entirely endearing about the boy's mouth – the sharp little quips at Shiki's expense, the way he never sugar-coated his emotions or his thoughts – and Shiki found himself enchanted with the teenage boy. Days then turned to weeks, and soon enough the rips had disappeared from sight when Shiki looked at Izaya's – who had finally admitted that he wasn't the King of Sheba - stomach, and he had lost the sickly pale tinge to his skin, and dare Shiki say it, he even smiled every now and then. Weeks turned to a month, and there was no doubt that Izaya had come to feel at home here, comfortable. He was always eager to hear about Shiki's work, always delighted when the older man brought him expensive sushi or let him sit in the room when Shiki had 'guests' to visit. There was no doubt that by now Shiki had developed feelings of love for the raven headed teenager. He always did things that he knew would please the growing boy, things that would help him to grow up in just the right way, things that would make him want to stay. There was some possessive streak in Shiki, some protective urge that he held, and he couldn't deny that Izaya had grown into his features and was flourishing into a beautiful creature of the night. It was strangely satisfying to watch Izaya grow, for him to experience new things one step at a time with Shiki at his side. And Shiki hadn't been blind; he could see the way that Izaya looked at him too, akin to some kind of love or worship or another. Shiki could still remember the look that had crossed Izaya's face when he had stumbled across one of Shiki's old jackets one day, a silly black thing with a white fur trim that he had worn when he was younger, before he had realised it was silly. The boy had worn it ever since, proclaiming that it would keep him warm in the winter, though Shiki knew that wasn't why he wore it. Shiki knew that wasn't the reason why Izaya still wore that jacket, even eight years on. He knew Izaya would never admit to that, he always had been stubborn, and Shiki knew he always would be.

And then there had been that night, about a year after Izaya had arrived in the city and Shiki had taken him in. He had been out with some of his subordinates, dealing with certain issues that had arisen which needed his personal attention. Someone had of course been left back at the HQ lest anything happen to Izaya, but they had not been in the room with him, and when Shiki appeared, the little raven had been curled up in that jacket with the fur trim with eyes red-rimmed and sobs shaking a form that once again looked tiny. He seemed embarrassed when Shiki arrived into the room, tried to get up, to leave, though the notion that he could escape in a place like this was silly. He was free to leave at any time, but Shiki knew as well as Izaya that he was just as entranced, that he didn't want to leave either. And so Shiki had taken the shivering boy into his arms and told him that it was okay to be weak once in a while, that he was still growing up, that it was all okay. And so Izaya had cried, though his throat had been so hoarse that Shiki had only been able to pick out snippets about Izaya's mother and father and him leaving home. And then, and then, and then they went to bed, and Izaya let Shiki take away the last lingering out his teenage years, and transform him into the beautiful young man he was to become. Shiki would never forget a moment of that, he would never forget the whimpers of his name from Izaya's mouth, the unsure kisses that he gave Shiki in return, the feel of Izaya curling into him when it was over. Things had taken a shift then. The two had never defined their relationship, it was never a given thing, but there was some unspoken message, some connection the two knew they had; though Shiki had always known that Izaya's feelings went deeper than his did. Shiki had always known that whatever they had would never be a long term thing. Shiki had always known that his feelings were not really as romantic as Izaya would wish them to be, and that was just proven even more so when the raven told him how he felt one night over sushi, with flushed cheeks and a dipped head. Shiki had smiled, ruffled the boy's hair and told him that he wasn't allowed to have a lover that was serious, because who knew what kind of people would be after him to get to Shiki? Izaya had nodded, made a lousy excuse that Shiki had seen right through, and gone to bed. Shiki had stayed out of the bedroom that night, especially when he had heard those same choking tears from the room. And yet— in a purely selfish way he had never attempted to stop him from falling for him, because when the boy looked at him with that look, when his body looked so delightful spread out in the moonlight, when the sound of his cries were so— how could Shiki deny himself that? It was wrong, it was selfish, but it wasn't as if he didn't care for Izaya at all. No. No. Izaya would always be different, he would always be special, and Shiki would always care for him, even now when his heart had claimed another, because there was just something about Izaya that drew people in.

Shiki wasn't allowed to be soft. He had to be tough, and it was bad enough he was so lenient with Izaya, really it was, and when Akabayashi had come along that had gotten ridiculous. Yet there is no way to stop the attraction of like-minded souls, and there was no doubt that was what the other man was to Shiki. They were of a similar age, and Akabayashi had already gone through all the terrors and problems of youth that Izaya had yet to experience, and he had mellowed and grown wise because of it. There was always a feeling of distrust that Shiki had held for the other man, and yet there was a spark, a different kind of spark than he had with Izaya, whom he loved more dearly as a son; ha, as messed up as it could be to sleep with your son, to partake in such dirty things with him, and yet— Shiki hadn't been in control of the way things had happened after that. He knew that Izaya would grow up soon, he would grow out of his fascination with him and leave, and then there was Akabayashi with all his worldly wisdom and trust and respect. Shiki had been drawn to him the way that two true lovers really were.

And while he had fallen out of love with the charming boy from the streets who had hissed at Shiki when they first met, swiped a knife at the older man when he approached and then replied so cheekily, there would always be that part of Shiki that loved Izaya, because who couldn't when he was so delightfully endearing? He still cared for the boy, still didn't want to see him lonely, and he still felt guilty because he knew that but for him and his growing affection for Akabayashi then Izaya would have remained that extraordinary, innocent boy with the skin as pale as the moon and hair as dark as a raven's eye. He felt guilty, because Izaya was the way he was because of Shiki's screw up. He hadn't handled it right, he had led him on, and he knew that, he did, and he had spent the last eight years trying to make up for it and make it all go away. Now there was someone else that Izaya had found, and he hoped this would mean the boy could move on from the angry ghosts of their past, because really, it stung when Izaya came and said such things as he had done earlier. To suggest that Shiki had never loved him— it just wasn't true, it wasn't.

Izaya always had been stubborn, and he knew he always would be. Shiki wished the unknown man all the best of luck, because loving Izaya wasn't nearly as easy as it seemed, but fuck, it was worth it in the end. Shiki could vouch for that. This man would have to put up one hell of a fight to get this Izaya to comply, but from what Shiki could tell, he had already cracked the surface and tapped into the real Izaya Orihara that lay somewhere, buried beneath years of living behind a mask.

No, no, he really did wish this man all the luck in the world. For Izaya's sake. It was what he needed. It was. He needed to move on. Izaya had love in him the likes of which Shiki doubted even Izaya could imagine. Silly boy, he always would be too stubborn to accept it, wouldn't he?

Silly boy. Silly, charming, beautiful boy.