Author's Note: I'm staying at my grandma's tonight, so this is up later than normal. I've not really had time to give it a thorough proof between talking to her and writing it, so please forgive any little typos just this once, please?

This one is for LoOrihara, for reminding me that some people out there love a bit of angst~.

Izaya was used to being told 'no'. He was, all the time, really. No, I won't tell you where he went. No, I don't want to die. No, I don't love you. No. No. No. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He was used to it, he was. He was used to getting his own way too. He was used to turning those little no, no, no protests into cries of yes, yes, yes. He was used to twisting things, facts, people, places, whatever the fuck he wanted, to make sure that he got what he needed, what he wanted. That was the way his world worked, just the way things went, the natural order of things.

He doubted this would be the case for him and for Shizuo and this fucked up tangle of emotion they'd gotten into though. No. No. No. It wouldn't be that easy, wouldn't be that quick or painless. Shizuo wasn't like his humans. He couldn't just flash a smile, charm him around his little finger, because no, no, no, Shizuo wasn't like his humans at all. The brute wasn't even human, he was a monster, an oaf, a really fucking hopeless-

Shizuo was stubborn too, just like Izaya. Ha. Ha. He was the one thing that Izaya could never predict, he was the one thing that remained oblivious to Izaya's charms, the one thing that remained untainted by his games and his influence. It was fascinating, really. He was still the same oaf, he always had been, always would be that same dumb brute that had decided to hate Izaya on that day of high school, all those years ago. Ha. Ha. No. No. No. There was no difference, that was just the way that Shizuo was.

Maybe that was why he was so appealing to Izaya, maybe it really was. He was so different, so uncontrollable, as calm as a hurricane, as cold as fire, as shifting as rock. Ha. Ha. Yeah. Yeah. Izaya guessed that was why Shizuo was so much fun, why he had always been drawn to him, why he had always wanted to play with the brute. His attention span was short, he knew that, it always had been, always would be. He got bored of people the more he knew them. Once he had exposed all of their secrets, once he had broken them down, they tired him, he hated them, wanted something new, something different. Shizuo gave him that, always. He didn't bend, didn't break, didn't change and yet he was changing all the time. So fascinating, enchanting. Shiki was another one like that. He never did what Izaya wanted either, never told him everything, not even when he had been some sweaty, whimpering naked boy squirming underneath him. No. No. No.

That man in question sat in front of him now, reclined like a tom cat on the sofa in Izaya's loft. The younger raven had fled back here after earlier, that confrontation, that hellish idea he had had. It was madness to go. It was- so why had it felt so right? No. No. It didn't matter. Nope. The loft was warm, lit by gold afternoon rays that wafted in through the window. Namie wasn't there. Izaya still hadn't called her back to work. He didn't want to do so. She'd lost her appeal, wasn't interesting anymore. No. No. Not like Shizuo. Izaya himself was sat on the opposite sofa, his cup of tea lifted to his mouth so he could sip at it. They were twisted into their normal smirk, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything, but Shiki was here, and he was going to keep his mask on. He wasn't going to be weak, pathetic, human. No. No. He wouldn't show that side of himself, not to this man, not to-

He wouldn't let the mask slip, not even like this, not even when he was this mad, this pissed this-

Disappointed? Ha. Ha.

Maybe, maybe, maybe-

"Well, now that we've dealt with business," Izaya purred, setting the cup down on the table and pushing himself up to stroll across to the other side of the loft. "I assume there is something else you're just dying to say to me,"

Shiki laughed from where he sat, setting his cup down too. He'd come to ask for some information, just usual stuff, rival gangs, their leaders, their business, yeah, yeah, shit like that. But he had noticed something was off with Izaya. He had known him too long to not see it, had been in his life for long enough to notice when he was faking that smile and that life. He was older, wiser, far from stupid or blind, but yeah, yeah, it was cute that Izaya was trying to fool him still, keeping his poker face on. It was cute, but Shiki could read it all too well, and he wasn't going to drop it this time. No. No. He was stubborn, just like Izaya, and he could see the old raven shining through, the one he had rescued from the streets. All he needed was some pulling and prodding to come back out again; that beautiful, charming, silly boy.

"You'd be right," Shiki agreed, laughing. Izaya had let his smirk fall now. "I was admiring your handiwork on Mr Heiwajima just the other day,"

Izaya laughed at that. He had too. Low. Dark. Bitter. "Don't tell me that you're jealous, Shiiiiki~chan?"

There was a pause, another dry chuckle from Shiki as he too pushed himself to his feet. His shoes echoed a little as he moved across the loft, over the floors, across the gulf towards the raven in the corner.

"No, no," He responded, brushing the comment off like it never happened. He wasn't going to let Izaya dig like that, no, no. "I'm concerned. Are you sure it's wise to play with a man like him?"

"Play?" Izaya scoffed, "Do you not believe that I may actually feel something for him? Ah, but that is not really your concern. You've never taken an interest in my games before,"

"Of course it's my concern when you end up hurt because of these fucking games,"

"Oh!" Izaya laughed, shrill, sarcastic. "Hurt? I don't see any injuries. Maybe it's your old eyes playing tricks on you, old man,"

No. No. No. Shiki couldn't do that. He couldn't. It wasn't fair for him to just stroll in and see through it all. Izaya hated it when he did that, he hated it when Shiki looked right through him, because whenever that happened, things started to undo, they rewound, and they crumbling, down, down, down and that wasn't what was supposed to happen here. No. No. No. Pathetic, human, damn. No. No.

"You always were stubborn," Shiki laughed. Izaya could hear him behind, just a step or two away. He didn't turn to look, he couldn't, wouldn't. No. No. He wasn't weak, he wasn't.

"Something happened, didn't it? You reached out, tried to do something like you would have in the old days, and he shot the idea down or said something that rubbed you the wrong way, and so now you're back here, hiding behind that mask as if nothing happened, as if it never affected you," Shiki spoke, this time it seemed that he wasn't going to let it go, he was going to follow through, to fight this until Izaya let his pride crumble and admitted it. It was some battle of wills now, and Izaya didn't think it was a fair fucking fight when his strength and his will and his everything was all worn down from this fucking love that bubbled in his chest. Love was a monster, and it was killing him, bit by bit.

"You don't know me anymore, Shiki," Izaya hissed, through his teeth, quiet, deadly. "So don't act like you have all the information here. You know nothing. You know-"

Izaya was cut off with Shiki's laugh, again. It riled him up, made his blood boil. He didn't like being angry, he hated it, it wasn't him. He was calm, he was rational, he thought things through and worked it all out so it worked his way. He didn't get mad. Fuck Shiki, fuck it all. Fucking Shizuo fucking Heiwajima. Yeah, yeah. He could say no to Izaya, that was fine, it was. Izaya had gotten it out of his system now, right? Right, right, right. Maybe, maybe, maybe that was all he needed. He didn't need Shizuo to love him, he didn't need Shinozuka to love him, he didn't need anyone to love him. No. No. He just needed his work, and his humans, and he just needed nameless, faceless men to take him home from the clubs and into their beds. That was his life. It had been mad to think otherwise.

Izaya felt numb. Numb and dizzy, spiralling out of control. Lower, lower, lower. Fuck Shizuo, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-

The raven turned before he was even aware of it to face Shiki, the older man, the old love, the man who had created him, fucked him, loved him. Ha. Ha. Still did love him. Izaya could see that, could see it in his face. There was a swing of his hips when he closed the distance between him, between Shiki. Yeah, yeah. Akabayshi had nothing on him. Fuck him, and fuck Shizuo. Who needed love, who needed a special someone? He didn't if it was like this. Shizuo didn't want him. Shiki did, right? Right. Right. And hey, hey, Izaya didn't want Shizuo either then, nope, no, no.

Maybe he really was mad. That would solve everything. It would explain this need to be needed, it would explain why he was thinking such crazy things, such horrid, nasty things. No. No.

His lips were on Shiki's before the older man could say another, his arms around his waist, skimming lower, lower, lower. There was a pause, a split second of frozen time where the other man did nothing.

But when Shiki pushed him away, when Shiki gave him that look, the mask crumbled, all that bravado he had been showing, all those lies he had tried to convince him, it all came crashing to his feet. It did, down, down, down like a house on fire, like one of his suicide victims, hurtling towards the floor. He could hear his own voice in his head, mixing with the groans of the monster in his ear. No. No. No. He couldn't lie to himself anymore, he couldn't. Everything was crashing down, the whole world crumbling. His legs gave out, knees hitting the cold floor with such force they were bound to be bruised tomorrow. His eyes welled up, leaking with hot tears, angry tears, and everything was crumbling, breaking, falling to pieces. He didn't like this, he fucking hated it all. He hated everything, everyone. Shizuo didn't want him, Shinozuka didn't want him, Shiki didn't want him. Izaya had tried to tell himself that didn't matter, but no, no, no, it really did. Because he wanted Shizuo, he wanted Shinozuka. The little voice in the back of his head told him that, whispering it quietly, telling him it was okay.

Ha. Ha. The great Izaya Orihara, on his knees, crying, clutching his sides as if they'd fall apart at the seems, throat raw and neck and hips decorated with bruises and hickeys from a fuck with a man he was supposed to hate. What was wrong with the world? Why did these sick, fucking feelings feel so damn right? What a game this had turned out to be, what a twisted, beautiful, glorious game.

The tears kept falling as he did, hating them, hating himself, wondering just how this whole thing came to be. This wasn't him, it wasn't, and yet- and yet-

It suddenly felt like he was years ago.