Happy Halloween! I hope everyone has a fun night tonight! I'm taking my cousins out for trick-or-treating as Psyche :3 What are you all up to?
"I still can't believe you're actually going through with this."
"I can't believe it either, Shizu-chan. But I have my reasons."
The next morning, Izaya showed up at Shizuo's apartment right on schedule; 10 A.M. Shizuo had some trouble getting up so early, but Izaya had demanded that he came over early. Something about appointments he couldn't miss during the day. Still shocked to find the flea at his doorstep, he almost forgot to move aside to let him in, until Izaya had irritably chided for him to move.
The informant had quietly scolded Shizuo for the quality of his home. "It's so messy. Even a monster like you should clean up every once in a while." Shizuo had ignored the comment, growling that is was just messy because he was too tired to clean last night.
Now, Izaya sat on the sofa, shifting a bit as he sunk uncomfortably into the couch. Shizuo leaned against the wall, just watching him; amused at no matter how hard he shifted, Izaya just couldn't get comfortable. He eventually just slumped into the chair and crossed his arms, letting the couch swallow him up.
"Alright, first things first. I refilled your prescription. Everything is filled to last you a month. Since that's the amount of time I'm going to be around. Once it runs out, you need to get your own. Deal?"
Shizuo shrugged, "Yeah, sounds fine to me." He walked over to the table and picked up the bag of medication, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. Izaya raised his brow and looked at Shizuo, who stared back and him, snarling. "What?"
"Well, I would assume that someone who is ill and has medication would actually take their dose." Izaya sneered. Shizuo sighed and groaned inwardly, opening the bottles roughly and pouring out the correct blend of pills. He walked over to the sink, turning his back toward Izaya. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't feel comfortable popping pills in front of the informant.
He felt like he was being degraded, and didn't want Izaya to watch. He quietly popped them in all at once, turning on the faucet to full blast and drank straight from the tap. To his relief, it was getting easier and easier to take his medication. But it still left a terrible tang in his mouth.
He heard Izaya mutter "Animal" under his breath, but ignored the comment. He just cleaned up the mess of bottles and went into the kitchen to see what he had to eat.
"You hungry?" he yawned, causing Izaya to glance back at him with a frown.
"You have the courtesy to ask?"
"Shut up. I'm asking 'cause it's polite. Are you hungry?"
"Ahh, I don't think I'd be fond of any of your food."
"Why is that? Food is food."
Izaya rolled his eyes, "Food isn't simply food. A good meal must be prepared correctly, and must be nutritious." He stood up, struggling a bit to pry himself away from the suffocating cushions that didn't want to let him go, and eased himself over to the kitchen. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and stared into the fridge. "Besides, all you have are eggs, leftover whatever it is you eat for dinner, and milk. So much milk."
"What's wrong with milk?" Shizuo snapped, grabbing a bottle and popping off the cap. Izaya curled his lip with disgust and looked away.
"First of all, it's strawberry flavored."
"It's better than normal milk."
"Too sweet for my tastes." Izaya stepped forward and slipped under Shizuo's arm that was still holding the refrigerator door open. He peered inside, and poked around a bit, sighing. "Mm, nothing."
"What do you mean nothing? The fridge is half full!"
"Filled with stuff I don't like." Izaya stood up and turned abruptly so he faced Shizuo. The blonde stepped back a bit, blinking at how close they had gotten. Izaya seemed to show no emotion whatsoever on the lack of personal space.
"I'm heading out to get food. Preferably Ootoro."
"Ootoro? Don't you think it's a bit early for that?" Shizuo frowned, stepping aside as Izaya walked past, pulling up his hood over his head. Izaya turned and grinned.
"It's never too early for ootoro~"
Izaya skipped out of the apartment, waving his fingers in a simple gesture of goodbye, and promised he'd be back in a few hours to check on Shizuo. Shizuo grunted to himself, "So God damn picky…" He shook his head, as he started to cook breakfast for himself.
He finished his meal after an hour, and stared out his window groggily as the time slowly passed. It wasn't even noon, and he was already bored out of his mind. Being unable to work for Tom, he didn't have any real reason to go outside. But being stuck indoors all day was wearing down on him.
He glanced over at his computer, frowning a bit. During times like this, he would chat with Psyche. Now that escape from reality was gone.
Sighing, Shizuo walked into his bedroom, opening the dresser to stare at the small collection of clothes. He pulled out a random shirt, giving it a look-over before placing it back. He needed new clothes. Or at least, more variety. Half of his clothes were multiple copies of bartending uniform. The other half was comprised of three pairs of jeans, a blue button up shirt, some t-shirts, socks, underwear, and pajamas. And deep in his empty closet was a single tuxedo his brother got him for a wedding he attended a few years back.
His wardrobe was lacking, to say the least. Maybe he could go out and buy a few more pants. Maybe a new pair of shoes? He did only have the pair he wore with his uniform, and they were starting to wear down.
Of course, the only issue with this plan was the lack of money he had. He had just spent most of his cash paying Izaya for information. The rest of his money were his savings, and he wasn't going to dip into that yet. However, he did have a bit stored in his sock drawer for emergencies.
Yawning again, he pulled out one of the pairs of jeans he had, and a newer t-shirt. He softly padded into the bathroom, pulling off his pajama shirt over his head as he closed and locked the door behind him.
He glanced at himself in the mirror, and tilted his head a bit. He could notice a slight difference in his body. His abs were less defined, and his skin looked paler. Maybe it was the lighting, but he had bags under his eyes as well. A shiver rolled down the blonde's spine when he realized that not only did he feel like shit, but he looked like it.
He stripped down the rest of the way, piling his dirty clothes into the corner of the bathroom, and turned on the water on full blast, playing with the temperature dial so he could get the perfect temperature.
Shizuo glanced back at the mirror and tilted his head forward, trying to get a good view at the roots of his hair. He wrinkled his nose and blew the overlong strands of hair that feel in front of his face.
"Damn, starting to get brown again."
Making a mental note to re-dye his hair, he stepped into the shower. The hot water scalded him as he stepped under the spray, but he didn't flinch. The steady beat of the water on his skin soothed him, slowly relaxing his muscles. He sniffled a bit as the steam cleared his sinuses, leaning against the tile wall as he just let the water fall on him.
As he began to pour fruit scented shampoo into his palm and lather his scalp, he thought about the last month in review.
This sickness had apparently been slowly growing over the years, but only started getting worse recently. He was getting weaker, and was more tired than before. He lost his job, although he was sure Tom would let him have it back once he could protect him.
He could feel the soft touch of his natural hair as he scrubbed away the coarse dye from the roots. Shizuo dunked his head under the spray from the shower head and watched the soap run down the drain, and wondered if he should dye is hair again.
"Maybe I can find enough money to get a hair cut too." he muttered as he took the bar of soap and started to scrub himself down, longing to get clean again. Being so close to the flea so often was making him feel dirty.
After fifteen minutes, he finished his shower and got dressed into some casual clothes. He brushes his teeth as he shook his head, trying to dry out the long blonde locks that clung to his face. He spit out the remnants of toothpaste, and swished mouth wash in his mouth before grabbing a few bills from his sock drawer. Might as well use it now.
He flicked open his cell phone, and dialed the number he had memorized over the years. He waited for a moment before the cheery voice of the secretary answered. Grabbing his house keys, he locked the door behind him and headed toward the salon, while rambling off the information he needed to give for his cut and dye appointment.