Author's Note: I just organised myself and created a more detailed plan for the rest of this story, and by that, I do mean from here right until the end. Welp. According to my plan, that's about 10 chapters away, but that could well be more or less in the end depending on what happens when I get around to typing up certain parts.

I still can't believe that there are so many of you reading this. Whenever I write something, it's always rewarding to know that people really like it. So thank you all from the very bottom of my fangirl heart~ even you ghost readers, I love you too!

Some people say that elephants never forget. Izaya supposed he never forgot anything either.

The whole thing played in his mind, the whole situation with Shizuo this afternoon, the whole little encounter, their meeting in the street, over and over and over in his head, like a broken record, a skipping CD. He could still feel Shizuo's hand around his neck, could still feel the pressure of those long fingers. He could still see that burning liquid gold gaze boring into him, could still see the anger and the irritation in those eyes, and something else, something— different that he couldn't quite place. But he'd stayed in Ikebukuro, even after the encounter with Shizuo, even after that little run-in the two of them had had. He'd been there for work after all, and despite how much he had changed, despite how much the whole thing had been affecting him, he wasn't about to just leave without what he came for. No. No. He wasn't that different. Not yet. He'd wondered through the alleys and met his contacts and checked out information hot spots until he'd had enough facts and figures and knowledge tucked away in his head to leave, back to Shinjuku, back to the safety and comfort of his loft, his kingdom, home.

The loft was warm when Izaya slipped in through the door that evening, with the sun slipping down once again, signalling the end of another day. The golden rays had done a marvellous job of heating the place, streaming in through the long windows, as had the heating which had clocked on at some point in the afternoon while he had been gone. It was quiet too, as Namie was still away; no doubt huffing and cussing him out back in her apartment due to the fact he hadn't called her back to work yet. There was a growing stack of paper on her desk though, despite her absence, something he had been adding to, expecting her to catch up with when he finally decided he could stand to put up with her sullen tone once again.

The information broker shed his jacket by the door, slouching it over the back of one of the sofas just a few paces away. He headed towards his desk then, dropping the little rose coloured box of ootoro he'd picked up from some place in Shinjuku onto the surface of it. He could still feel those fingers, long, warm like freshly baked bread or something of the like, curled around his skin, cold skin, cool skin, hard skin. It was as if Shizuo's hand had never left, as if his very presence had travelled with Izaya all around the city and back home again. Ha. Ha. He was mad, so very mad, to be thinking things like that. Who would have thought that Izaya Orihara, the great information broker of Tokyo would ever think things like this?

His computer hummed to life as he sat, dwelling and wallowing in these thoughts. His fingers were linked together, allowing his chin to rest on them while he waited for the machine to buzz to life. One of many mobile phones sat on the surface, and his fingers curled around it, deftly, bringing it to his ear and flipping it open. Izaya let his fingers scroll through the address book, killing time in finding a number that he already knew off by heart. Shiki's name flashed up on the screen, and he raised it to his ear, listening to the dial tone. The computer had booted up now, and Izaya sat there, staring at the start screen while he waited for the man on the other end of the phone to pick up.

Those fingers, on his neck, pressure, that gentle probing, warm like apple pie, like fresh bread. He could feel it, feel them, feel him, still, lingering.

"Izaya," came the greeting from the other end of the phone. Shiki seemed indifferent to his call, just like he always did. Izaya wondered if the whole thing earlier had even happened, if Shiki had even seen him, crying and breaking down, sobbing his black heart out like he had nothing else to lose. Izaya had tried to forget that had happened himself, but he hadn't expected Shiki to do the same. That wasn't like the man normally, and he couldn't help but wonder what the old devil was up to.

"I trust you found what I asked for," the older man added when Izaya didn't reply, and there was another little pause before the raven confirmed it. The sun had lowered a little more now, and lights were starting to flicker on once again, slowly, building by building, like some kind of electric Mexican wave. Izaya leant back in his chair, leaning into the soft, pressed leather and feeling the cool material press through the fabric of his t-shirt, black and thin. He allowed himself a little smile, pulling out all of those little niggling facts and figures and meaningless little things that he had discovered for Shiki that afternoon. Work had always been something that he loved, it had always been something that calmed him, which he could easily lose himself in when things got tough, when he went through patches of his life even he didn't like. Patches of his life like right now, with Shizuo and Shinozuka and all that-

Madness. It was just madness, it was.

There was another pause when Izaya had finished talking. He could hear Shiki breathing on the other line, could hear the rattle in the other man's breath and the soft hum of his computer on his end of the line. One hand reached out to pull the box of ootoro towards him, fingers deftly swooping in to claim a piece and bringing it to his mouth. The taste was melting over his taste buds when Shiki spoke again, quiet and low, through the little phone.

"How are you? Better?" There was something in his tone now that Izaya could hear, something he was sure hadn't been there before, some cruel edge perhaps, some cold indifference that he didn't like. Talking with Shiki didn't seem quite the same as it did before. Izaya wondered if that was because maybe, maybe, maybe he had stopped holding on to that old flame between them, had let go of their angry ghosts and found something, someone, new to focus on. Maybe he was just bitter. He didn't know, didn't care.

With something in the middle of a scoff and a laugh, Izaya hung up, and tossed the phone promptly back onto the table with a clatter. No. No. Something had changed. He wasn't sure when, just like he wasn't sure of when most things had changed now in his life, but the way he felt about Shiki had changed. Maybe it had been when he had broken down, and Shiki had done nothing really to help, had simply allowed him to wallow, on the basis he had said that Izaya had to learn to pick himself up. Ha. Ha. That had been what the older man had said, then he had just dropped the envelope with his information request on Izaya's desk and left. Just left as if Izaya hadn't tried to kiss him, as if he hadn't cried and sobbed and quite obviously fallen apart at the seams; well, well, that was fine. Izaya didn't need him now, he didn't—

His thoughts were strangely calm. Quiet and tranquil and more collected than they had been in days, in weeks even. He could still feel those fingers, warm and gentle, around his throat. He could still feel them, wrapped there, warmer than a winter scarf, strangely calming. Ha. Ha. Who would have thought he was capable of thinking these things indeed? He guessed anything was possible when he had managed to fall in love with a monster, when he had managed to even fall in love.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. The start screen of his computer still stayed up, open and ready, fully booted and awaiting his instruction, but Izaya merely stared, because he wasn't capable of thinking of anything else at that point. He'd always been guilty of overthinking things; it was one of his flaws, one of his strengths. It kept him safe, it meant he was never put in situations that— ha, ha, no, that was a lie wasn't it? He hadn't thought when he had seen Shizuo earlier, hadn't thought when he had gone to Shizuo's just the other day and look where that had got him. The whole thing played in his mind, that whole situation with Shizuo that afternoon, the whole little encounter, their meeting in the street, over and over and over in his head, like a broken record, a skipping CD. He could still see that burning liquid gold gaze boring into him, could still see the anger and the irritation in those eyes, and something else, something— different that he couldn't quite place.

Shizuo had walked away too. Shizuo hadn't attempted to send him flying across the city like he normally did; he hadn't torn up any kind of sign or bench or trash can or city fixture to throw at his head like normal. He hadn't even crushed Izaya's throat, taken his life away just like he always claimed to want when it was finally in his hands to do so. That meant something; Shizuo being able to walk away certainly meant something. Izaya just wasn't sure yet.

He still wasn't sure why he himself had acted as he did, not when his fight or flight reflex was pretty much set to flight. He wasn't sure why he had placed his life in danger, because he didn't want to die, not yet, not ever. And yet— and yet there had been something that had made him act that way, some little voice that had told him that maybe, maybe— no, no, something that had told him that it was okay. Something that said their relationship had shifted enough for him to be able to do that without ending up dead or with another Shizuo related injury like he'd had in his youth, that time a while ago when he had been scattered, mentally distracted, yeah, yeah.

Shizuo had changed. Izaya could see that now, he could. It was obvious, even if the monster didn't realise it himself. Izaya suddenly felt like he was the only one who truly understood, ha, ha, story of his life. Humans never understood their own feelings, neither did monsters. What did that mean for him, for Shizuo?

Izaya couldn't help the little smirk that tugged up at his lips as his thoughts developed, as each strand moved along from one little focus point to the next. His thoughts were on fire, his brain shooting through some many questions, so many possible outcomes, planning them, dismissing them, questioning everything. Shizuo had changed; he had, really, really and truly, and changed for the better. The fact that he could stand to be in Izaya presence with the raven practically giving him permission to do what he had always wanted to do and end up walking away with Izaya still in one piece; that meant something, something big. It did, it did, it did.

Shizuo didn't think he was being truthful - Shiki hadn't either - was that it? Was that why the blonde was being so- so what? Ha. Izaya guessed that was the case; he guessed that Shizuo wouldn't see this as anything else other than another one of his games. Shizuo had changed, the monster had changed, and that old leopard really had changed his spots. Well then, Izaya could change too, yeah, yeah, yeah. Izaya could do that, he could prove a point; he could show Shizuo how serious he was being. He was going to stop running, he had proven that already. Shizuo had changed, ha, ha, then so could he.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Perhaps it was time to do something different, play another sort of game, show Shizuo that he could be Nakura, that he wasn't just fucking around. It was funny, it was madness, that Izaya Orihara could be thinking things like this, feeling this like this, wasn't it? Mad, mad, it was absolutely mad.

Still smirking, Izaya promptly finished the rest of the sushi that had been in the box, turning his attention back to his computer and taking a hold of the mouse. Maybe paying Shizuo's rent for him for a few months would do the trick, maybe buying the brute another pot plant to replace the one that had been tossed at his head just the other day, maybe sending Kasuka an email to spend some damn time with his brother. Maybe, maybe, maybe; Izaya wasn't sure yet, but he had all the time in the world, little worry about money. He would show Shizuo, he would. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was funny, it was madness, that Izaya Orihara could be thinking things like this, feeling this like this, wasn't it? Mad, mad, it was absolutely mad. But it didn't mean that he cared, not anymore. He was too far gone to care now, too far gone to even change the course he had set on.

He was changing, everything was changing.

He was Izaya Orihara, but he wasn't the same man anymore.

No. No. No.

The world he knew was crumbling under him, giving out under his very feet, so what more could he do other than dive in head first? He'd prove he was being truthful; he'd do something to show that, he could and he would.

Izaya had crumbled, he'd broken down earlier, really, he had; but when the monster did things like that, leaving him without a scratch, when he gave Izaya such clear signs, such glimpses into his head, how could the raven not perk up? Shizuo felt something too, even if he hadn't owned up to it yet. The proof of that was that Izaya was alive and not in some crumbled heap in an Ikebukuro street. Yeah, yeah. All he needed was time, he'd managed to make Shizuo, the iron man, the beast, the monster fall in love with Nakura; it was only a matter of time before Shizuo accepted the other part of him too.

Izaya would make sure of that.