Author's Note: Chapter 1 of my new Shizuo/Izaya fic has now been posted. Maybe you guys want to go and have a read and see if you like it so far~? I have quite a few more fics in the works at the minute. They're all planned, just need to get around to writing them all, welp. /keels over/

The next chapter is going to be a big turning point, I promise. You guys are going to love it, because even I love it. It might be up later, we'll see if I can tweak it to my satisfaction in time. /shot/

Shizuo seemed to spend a lot of time out and about in the city at night lately. The buildings always seemed to be lit up, twinkling with life and people going about their daily lives, routines, same old, same old. He'd had a lot of time to think on the way over here, to Shiki's place, in the darkest corner of the city, after all it wasn't exactly a quick walk from his place to here, and wondering in the dark had helped to clear his mind a little, enough to wonder whether he was doing the right thing. Everything said that he should simply forget this whole thing. He should just go back to hating Izaya as he had done before, and pretend that he had never signed up to that site in the first place. Those difficult feelings for the man he had spoken to over the internet would disappear eventually. He should have done that, and yet he didn't think he could just go back and pretend nothing had happened, especially after what had happened with him and with Izaya earlier.

"Ah, Mr Heiwajima," Shiki greeted the blonde with a smile, spotting him in the doorway where he had been ushered in; but the older man didn't rise from where he was sat, reclined on the sofa at the end of the room like a tom cat surveying a mouse that has wondered into its den. He raised one hand to gesture towards the other sofa, in soft red, which lay opposite his own, an indication that Shizuo should sit and make himself comfortable. "Can I get you anything to drink? We had some fine whiskey delivered this morning,"

Shizuo paused for a second in the doorway before responding with a curt shake of his head, making his way gruffly across the room to sit in the very place that Shiki had pointed out. Drinking wouldn't solve anything; it wouldn't make the problems go away. That was the coward's way out, and Shizuo Heiwajima wasn't a coward. Well, maybe he was just a little. Wasn't he trying to run from his feelings now? Was this some big sign that he should just stop fighting for once? He didn't fighting after all. And yet—

"So, what can I do for you Mr Heiwajima?" Shiki questioned after a short pause, staring the blond down. "Obviously our business was—" Shiki paused to laugh dryly here, "— interrupted last time,"

Yeah, yeah, Shizuo remembered. He wasn't about to forget the flea stumbling over to him, stinking of alcohol and all sweaty and grinding out that irritating nickname in that smug tone of voice. He wasn't going to forget that the flea had interrupted his search for answers. He wasn't going to forget that he had taken a moment to drawn his eyes over the louse's form, raking in the new attire he had been wearing before remembering who he was, and that he shouldn't be doing things like that. No. No.

"You're here about Izaya Orihara, right?" Shiki didn't question that. He stated it with all the confidence in the world and those words, that tight tone left no room for argument. Apparently Shizuo was more see-through than he liked to think. Was that why the flea always bothered him, because he wore his emotions on his face for all to see? Shizuo's brown crinkled into a frown, and the fists that had rested on the crook of his knees tightened. He was, yeah, he couldn't deny that, but everything seemed to have abandoned him, and he didn't know what he was supposed to ask. Suddenly his feet seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world.

In fact, now that he was here and thinking about it, he didn't really know what it was that he wanted to know. He just knew that he needed someone to tell him something, and then maybe he could figure out what he was meant to do to move forward. He needed to know what had become of his relationship with the louse. If it was true that Izaya had fallen for him in the guise of his online name, then that made going back to square one hard, especially when Shizuo was fighting feelings of his own. Maybe it wasn't even that he needed to know, maybe all he wanted was for someone else to tell him what he was feeling.

"I see he still hasn't shaken that old habit of his," Shiki commented, with a laugh, dark and low. Shizuo looked up at that, his brow still furrowed, though now at Shiki's words and not just his own thoughts, his own motives. The older man was watching him intently, with a gaze that Shizuo had a hard time matching. Shiki said nothing else, and Shizuo didn't know what he was expected to reply with. Shizuo merely let out some kind of 'hn' in response, hoping that would be enough acknowledgement and Shiki would continue to talk. This was a bad idea; it was, who cared what—

"Your neck," Shiki cut in, when Shizuo didn't reply with anything more. His eyebrow was cocked now, as if the dark bruises that had formed on the blonde's neck had been obvious. Shizuo seemed to realise just how exposed they were at Shiki's words, just what the older man really had been getting at, because his hand flew up to tug the collar of his shirt higher. His skin tingled.

"I certainly recognise Izaya's handiwork when I see it, Mr Heiwajima. So now I'm curious as to just how you came by all those little marks," The older man continued, and Shizuo didn't know what to say to that. How was he supposed to act when Shiki had so clearly seen through what he had tried to deny, when Shiki had realised what had transpired between him and that fucking louse? He could feel irritation building under his skin, but it was joined quickly by a flush of embarrassment, a little pinch of shame, and it made him decide that yeah, yeah, this had been a bad idea and maybe he shouldn't have come after all. He stood up, hard and straight, half turned towards the door in a sudden flurry of ten or twelve quick steps towards the exit.

"Stop," Shiki called across the room, the mirth in his voice plain for Shizuo to hear. He still stopped though, despite the growing annoyance he could feel. He realised it wouldn't do to try and toss Shiki across the room in his own place, but Shizuo also knew that his self-restraint was wearing thin, and that it wouldn't be long before something was sent flying through the air.

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's working," Shizuo ground out, fists clenching and unclenching in turn. The mention of what had happened, he didn't— it was something that he didn't want others to know about, something that he didn't really want to know about. The thought of him and the louse doing what they had done, it was— he didn't know what it was. It should piss him off, should sicken him. Partly it did, but Shizuo wasn't a liar, and he couldn't deny the way his skin tingled to remember that mouth and that skin. He couldn't deny that he had enjoyed it, more than he could remember enjoying anything else. Heh. Heh.

"I can assure you that was not my intention," came the reply, and Shizuo stiffened, but didn't make to move towards the door anymore. Then again, he didn't make to move back towards Shiki either. Just stuck in the middle, lost in a sea of indecision, just waiting for something, or someone, to tell him what to do, that was Shizuo. There was a pause, a quiet stretch of time in which tension seemed to hang in the air like something tangible, as if it were so thick that Shizuo could have strangled it.

"I'm guessing you came wanting to know about Izaya or something like that, because you don't know what to do now," Shiki continued, and Shizuo's jaw tightened. Was he always so open, always so easy to read, or did Shiki just have a gift for doing so? It was infuriating, like the man was just crashing through everything Shizuo had thrown up to hide behind.

"You know the bastard best. After all, you were that asshole that made him the way he is now," the blonde huffed, not denying Shiki's assumption, gruffly with a scoff that Shiki found humorous. Shiki wasn't sure if Shizuo spotted the bitterness in his own tone or not. It was funny, really.

The whole situation was amusing to Shiki, really it was. He had always found it easy to read Izaya's emotions, and when he had brought the scrawny youth back here, drunk, the other night, spewing up curses and insults about a man he knew, Shiki had found it even easier. He had seen the signs in Izaya, that his heart had started to melt, and that there was someone who had started to thaw him out after he had watched the raven headed boy close himself up. Shiki hadn't expected Shizuo to be that man, but as the blonde stood here now, it seemed obvious, even if he was pretty sure neither of them had realised who the other really was. But it worked, or so he mused with that smile; they'd both seen the very worst of each other, so whatever they showed now would only get better. It was better to know the horrid, sorrowful details of one's lover before anything serious happened, before they became tangled up in everything. Ha. And here the two of them were, dancing around something that was so obvious to him. Yeah, Shiki probably did know Izaya best, but right now, he was pretty sure he understood Shizuo damn fucking well too.

"Guilty," Shiki agreed with a shrug and a little nod of his head, "But that wasn't my intention either. I never meant for him to end up like he did, but I can't change the past or take back what I did. Even if I could, I'm not sure that I would,"

"So you don't regret that what you did created a bastard like him?" Shizuo shot back, and now it was hard to hide the lacing of anger, of rage, that ghosted his words. Shiki didn't flinch though. He'd seen worse, and he knew that Shizuo could at least refrain from tossing anything at him or in general until he had left. He guessed his reputation, the fact that this was his home and not Shizuo's that he had to thank for that, or maybe it was because Shiki realised that under it all, Shizuo Heiwajima really did have a good heart in him. "Do you not feel guilty that every shitty thing he's done, every fucked up game he played, every life he ruined, is all your fault?"

"Somewhat," the elder man admitted with a sigh, low and short, one that seemed to show the strains of his age, the things and dangers that he had lived through in his life so far. "But it's hard to condemn someone you care for, even if they have done some bad things,"

"He fucking deserves it," The blonde brusquely responded, in a low curl of his words that sounded like some kind of growl, the snarl of some old tiger, fierce to the last second. "How can you care for someone like that?"

"Why don't you ask yourself, Mr Heiwajima? Isn't that why you came here, because you want to know if caring for Izaya is worth it or not?" Shiki replied, blinking. Shizuo froze, and everything tightened. Was that what— no, no, no, he couldn't, he— Nakura and Izaya weren't the same people, they just— no.

"I'll admit that this Izaya is hard to like, even I find he grates on my nerves sometimes," Shiki continued, swiftly before Shizuo could get another word in or allow his anger to really flip out. He sounded bored now, as if this whole thing was obvious and that really, Shizuo hadn't needed to come all this way to hear it. "But the real one is still there, I've seen him, and I promise you that he is worth it all, Mr Heiwajima. Does that answer your questions?"

Shizuo didn't reply to that, he just scoffed, pushed his glasses further up his nose and headed through the door that he knew would lead him back out to the streets. He was only halfway out of the door by the time he was reaching for his cigarettes and lighter, needing that fix, needing to stop these racing thoughts and the shaking of his hands. The little thing was tucked between his lips when he left, stepping out into the cool night air. He'd barely made it a dozen steps before he had dropped his lighter into his pocket again without lighting the cigarette and turned instead to rip something from the wall beside him, watching it with satisfaction as it flew across the road to crash on the other street. That was swiftly followed by another thing and another, objects and whatever, Shizuo didn't care what, as long as he could toss it, watch it crash and break and crumble.

Suddenly, that cigarette didn't seem quite so appealing, and all he felt was sick to his stomach. He let it fall from his lips, crushing it with the ball of his shoe before walking on, leaving it in the past, behind him, in the dirt and the dark. Maybe it was denial still, or maybe it was the fact that Shiki had managed to see right through him. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He hadn't really asked anything, but it seemed like everything he had been wanting to know, or near enough, had been answered. Shiki said it was worth it, and maybe, maybe, maybe it was.

Heh. Why was he thinking things like that?

What an idiot he really was.

It took him a long time to get back to his place. Somewhere he had taken some kind of detour, lost himself and ended up in the hotel district near the station with its flashing lights and staff waiting to greet those who entered to stay or drop by for drinks at the bar. He hadn't even really been thinking, which really, really, really, had been a good thing he guessed. He had been thinking too much lately, considering things that just weren't plausible about him and that louse, but then— after what they had done, well all the rules were broken now, weren't they?

The same damn light was flickering when he headed up the stairs to his apartment, on the third floor, Room 303, next to that dear little old lady with a fondness for apple pie and cookies in the summer. He could hear the sound of his footsteps echoing along the halls, he could hear the sound of the door hinges of his room creaking when he slipped the key in and pushed it open and entered. He could hear every fucking thing, something that sounded like the rustle of clothes that weren't his; he caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, and flipped on the switch to flood the main room with light but not before that smooth, sly voice curled into his ear like smoke.

"Welcome home, Shizu-chan,"

Yeah, maybe, maybe, maybe.