Author's Note: I got an offer from another one of the universities that I applied for. That's two down, just three more to go, whew! Hopefully this writer's block is gone for good after my little break, I certainly hope so anyway. Well, I can't believe we've reached chapter 50, just oh my gosh, I never expected I would have this much to write or that so many of you would take such interest in it. Thank you all so much! I hope this chapter is special enough for this new milestone chapter~.

Please don't forget to leave some feedback. It only takes a minute or two to review, and it means to world to me and my writing to hear what you all think. You guys are the reason I write this after all! Well, enjoy the chapter anyway, and I'll see you at the next update~.

Shizuo had woken up early.

It had still been dark when his eyes had opened and his brain had fluttered back into consciousness, slipping away from the other world inside his own head. The flea had still been asleep beside him, tucked into the crook of his arm, though Shizuo had no remembrance of them falling asleep like that. His skin was as bare as Shizuo's, naked and cool, though the blonde could already spot several bruises flushing up on Izaya's paler self, from his own hands, his own mouth. It had been early when he woke, yes, dark, and the only person who would have put a stop to Shizuo simply sliding out of there and running, running, running was still asleep, curling into him like they really were lovers and really could stand to be in the same room and not supposed enemies, not men who were supposed to hate each other.

It would have been easy to leave and not look back, as easy as it was not to think; but Shizuo didn't leave, and for the longest time, he didn't even move from where he laid, despite the skin to skin contact with the bastard, the louse, the man beside him. No, no. He didn't move, didn't think either, just lay there, tangled in the bed sheets with a raven headed bastard, listening to his own heartbeat and feeling soft, cool breaths ghosting on his skin from the body slumbering beside him. He just allowed his mind to go blank, to just take in the feelings, the warmth and the noise and block out that voice at the back of his mind, that anger, telling him what to do and what not to do. Maybe he shouldn't listen to it anymore, no, no, maybe, maybe, maybe—

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think.

It was easier, so much calmer and nicer to just let it go blank. He could imagine the ocean, something that he had only ever seen in pictures and on television; those long sand covered shores, cool water lapping at them lovingly and puffy streams of clouds lingering in the air like flies caught in a web, like sheep dancing across a never ending stream of blue. It was calm and it was cool and it made his temper, his red hot rage and that cursed strength that had ruled him for so long seem like some long forgotten dream. It made it seem like the faint whisper of a memory already half lost in the torrent of time. Calm and cool and quiet and easy, that's what not thinking was.

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think.

Thinking was hard. It made his head ache, his body want to curl in on itself and shrink away from the very notion of it. Thinking was hard, and Shizuo didn't like it. Thinking meant that he looked too deeply into things, thinking meant that those two halves of his very being woke up and started to fight, thinking stirred up that internal conflict within him. It hurt, ached, and not in the tingling way that his muscles did, sated, satisfied. No. No. He didn't like thinking, about his feelings, about the flea, about just what this mess was that he had stumbled into. Thinking ruined that beautiful place in his head, marred the sand and the waves and the cloud with dark, ugly thoughts that he didn't like.

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think. It was easier when he just allowed his mind to go blank, to just be aware of the warmth of the body that had curled into his, to just be aware of his arms unfurling to enclose the slim shoulders of that body, to just be aware that the sheets were wrapped around his legs and tangled, tangled, tangled. It was so much better, so much easier, to just be aware of that, but to not think about it, to not realise what any of it meant. If he started to think for too long, he would just get angry, would end up tossing this bed, these sheets, that body across the room and ruining the delightful ache of his limbs, his skin.

So he did just that, stopped thinking, or stopped to the best of his ability. For the longest time, Shizuo just lay there, still and calm, as if being in this bed, with this man, curled together, was the most natural thing in the world, as if that was just the way things worked, as if it wasn't twisting everything they had ever done before, ever known. It wasn't until the sun started to rise, until the light started to creep into the loft through the wide windows that Shizuo shifted, untangling himself from the limbs and warmth of the figure next to him. It wasn't until those rays of light started to reach him and the louse and the bed that he moved, sliding from the sheets in favour of perching himself on the edge of the bed, brow furrowing, hard and—

When the louse had woken, Shizuo had barely been aware of it, really. It would be easier not to think, it was easier not to think, and yet his mind had pulled him in, and he had allowed himself to fall head first back into those thoughts that seemed to plague him. They didn't get him anywhere, just resulted in him going around and around in circles, over and over and over. What he was feeling, what he was meant to be feeling, what happened next, he didn't know. Shizuo was beginning to think that maybe it would save him the trouble all those thoughts and questions would no doubt cause if he just let them go, just forgot, stopped analysing the past, stopped analysing his feelings. Maybe the flea was right, maybe he was—

It would be so easy to just slip out, just like the louse had done the last time. It would be so easy to just pretend once again that this had never happened, and yet Shizuo knew that hadn't worked last time, knew that it wouldn't work this time. It would be so easy to just go, to leave, and to listen to the voice in his head. But he couldn't deny it anymore, couldn't deny that he needed to stay, to talk. So he stayed, he did, he moved back up to the top of the bed where the raven lay sprawled, he waited for the other man to fall asleep, and then he curled down next to him too. Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima tangled up in one another and half dozing in the early morning light. Ha, the idea was fucking hilarious wasn't it? It was mad.

But all monsters are quite mad. Why would Shizuo be any different?

Yes, yes, quite mad indeed—

It was mid-morning when Izaya finally woke, his eyes opening and limbs stretching for the second time that day. Shizuo had left the bed by then, once again sliding from under the warmth of the sheets, this time in favour of leaving it completely in search of his trousers and underwear. The two had been tossed haphazardly to the floor the previous night, just beside the bed, and Shizuo was quick to pull them on despite the crinkles and creases that had formed from where they had been laying. He still hadn't left though, no, no. It was quiet in the loft, quiet and warm and he still hadn't left even though there was ample opportunity for him to have done so, even though it would be so easy and so simple and would remove all threat of hurt and stop Izaya in his tracks if this was all part of that game still. No. No. He'd just left his shirt where it had fallen and returned to that sofa where he had been sat before, another cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth, and mind pleasantly blank.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Shizu-chan?" the raven drawled from across the room, breaking through that daze that Shizuo had fallen into, that blissful blank state of mind. Izaya didn't seem to notice what he had interrupted, and there was a hint of laughter in his voice, that old face of his sliding back on, always happy, always smiling, laughing, smirking.

Shizuo looked up at the words, cigarette still curling smoke toward the ceiling. He didn't reply, just blinked, once, twice, allowing his eyes to fix Izaya was a hard look. Izaya hadn't bothered to dress either, instead choosing to pluck Shizuo's own crumpled shirt from the floor. The white fabric was draped around him now, lithe fingers gripping at the side. It was big, reaching down to Izaya's mid-thigh or just a little above. Shizuo didn't really care why. He was taller, broader. Izaya was smaller, thinner, needed a damn good meal or five. Shizuo almost laughed at the cliché notion of it. To think that the two of them had fallen into something like this, a relationship like this. It was funny how easily hate could turn into something else; it was funny how easy it had been for the change to happen and for the two of them to get sucked up into it. It was funny how he could still not think, still keep his mind in that blissful blank state and just enjoy being alive, breathing, the taste of that cigarette on his tongue. Once upon a time he would have rejected any idea like this and killed anyone who even suggested it. Now— heh, Shizuo didn't want to talk about now. That would require thinking, and he was done with thinking, wasn't he? Heh, heh, heh. Yeah.

"All that skin on show?" Izaya continued, as if he had no care in the world, as if this situation didn't trouble him too. He just carried on walking, across the loft, towards the sofa where Shizuo was still sat. Still, hard, quiet, just as if he were at his own home and not here. "I think you just might be Shizu-chan~"

The blonde let his mouth lift up briefly at the corners, but the smile dropped as soon as it came, marred with a low sigh that whispered out.

"I should be throwing you across the city right now," Shizuo spoke, quiet and cool. Izaya's lips quirked upwards at the words, despite the tone, despite the mood of the room, despite their odd positions, despite it all.

"You should," he agreed simply.

"I should want to kill you," Shizuo continued.

"You should," Izaya agreed, again.

Another pause followed, just as quiet, cool, calm as the rest. Shizuo sighed, stubbing out his cigarette without another drag, still half finished. The taste had changed, it was bitter in his mouth. Izaya must have heard, but either chose to ignore it or was unaffected by it, instead just continuing to walk closer and closer and closer, eventually settling himself in Shizuo's lap as he had done the night before, as if this was just how things worked now. Shizuo couldn't help but flinch, and the blonde half wondered if the louse had just done that, had just done half of the things this morning, to see him squirm, to watch that flicker of discomfort and uncertainty flash across his face for his own amusement. Shizuo had put up with games like that for too long to completely be able to banish those paranoid thoughts from his mind, and yet—

"But you're not throwing me across the city right now," Izaya retorted, eyes lowering to Shizuo's. Watching the emotions rushing through them was certainly amusing, interesting. The way that liquid gold burnt and swirled was captivating, enchanting in ways that Izaya had never really appreciated or tried to see before.

"No," Shizuo agreed, in that same monotone that Izaya had used before.

"And you don't want to kill me," Izaya continued with a ghost of a chuckle. It was a statement. Not a question. He was sure, he was confident, and Shizuo wasn't sure if that confidence was real or forced. Maybe it didn't matter. No. No. It probably didn't.

"No," The blonde hummed back, low, husky, "No,"

It was easier when Shizuo didn't think. It was easier, so much calmer and nicer to just let it go blank. He could imagine the ocean, something that he had only ever seen in pictures and on television; those long sand covered shores, cool water lapping at it lovingly and puffy streams of clouds lingering in the air like flies caught in a web, like sheep dancing across a never ending stream of blue. It was easier to not think of the man in his lap, to not think of what he had felt in the past, what had happened in the past. Thinking was hard, thinking hurt. And yet— and yet—

"So what becomes of us now, Shizu-chan?" the low whisper broke through the little daze he seemed to have slipped in. The voice, that bastard, heh, he sounded just as uncertain about this as Shizuo did when the blonde really listened. He sounded like he didn't know where it was heading either. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Shizuo replied, husky voice just as quiet as Izaya's. Neither was moving, neither was leaving, just both of them remaining still, calm, quiet. "This is wrong, this is— I don't know what comes next,"

"If you wait to do everything until you're sure it's right, you'll never do much of anything," Izaya laughed. The sound was odd, Shizuo didn't know quite where to place it. It was some odd mix of amusement and bitterness and some other emotion that Shizuo didn't know, but felt all the same. "I've learned not to worry about what might come next,"

"Tch," Shizuo bit out, a huff, his head turning from Izaya to stare at the floor, to glare at it as if that was what had caused all of this, all these feelings and conflict inside. It was easier not to think, and maybe he should listen to that damn flea, maybe he should listen to those feelings, the ones for Nakura or Izaya or whoever it was. Him, the raven with the twisted smile and a hold on him like a puppeteer. It shouldn't be so hard to do this, to give in to love, but Shizuo had always been stubborn, and that fact that this was Izaya, the man that he— this was never going to be easy, never, never, never, ever.

"Why is this so fucking easy for you?" he continued before Izaya could pipe up with another remark. "It shouldn't be— damn louse. We're meant to hate each other, you've done all these messed up things and— fuck, I shouldn't even be thinking about this, I shouldn't—"

"Monsters really do think too much. You just decided to hate me when we met; you couldn't even believe in that last one percent back then, could you?" Izaya cut across, half joking, half— "Have you never thought about getting to know me, never thought that we aren't so different after all?"

Shizuo didn't say anything, and for a second or so, neither did Izaya, as if he were waiting for the blonde to reply. It was a novelty seeing the blonde so calm, so collected. Izaya liked it. It was a welcome change from the brute who seemed to fly off of the handle whenever they met. This change, this shift in them both, it was obvious now. To him at least. Obvious. The raven had almost said something when Shizuo had claimed that it was easy for him. Ha, ha. What did the blonde know? This was no simpler for Izaya as it was for him. Really, really, they weren't so different after all. They'd both changed, completely, utterly changed. Together.

"It is better to know and be disappointed, than to not know and always wonder," he continued, when Shizuo didn't answer.

It was light in the loft by now. Mid-morning after all was a glorious time in the city, full of life and action. Golden rays had filtered in to light the place in beautiful tones of cream and gold; tiny little specks of dust or whatever floated and twirled in the beams like a swarm of tiny ballerinas, all performing in the grandest recital of their lives. It was warm, both from the sun and the light and the heat of skin on skin, body on body. Content and pleasant and—

"Alright," Shizuo sighed out with a low laugh, genuine, mirthful. "I give up,"

"Take my hand and we'll give up together," Izaya replied, and once again, just like magic, Shizuo felt those cool fingers curling around his own.

This was mad, mad, mad, but then again, all monsters were, right?