Chapter 25: Glorious return

The clock was ticking. Both metaphorically and physically.

Round and simple, driven by a single battery it sneered at Izaya as its hands mercilessly progressed towards the 6pm mark.

A couple hours had passed.

Three to be exact.

Izaya was well aware of his duty to appear wherever Creston wanted him to be and yet the cushions of his bed begged him to stay.

Feeling his shoulder pleasantly warm and supported by the fluffy texture of his bed Izaya couldn't quite hide a silly desire for power.

Real power. Some sort of magic. Telekinesis would be nice. He could be stopping the hand that counted the ruthless seconds of time he had left.

Or even better. Control time itself.

How amazing would it be to manipulate what others saw and experienced on a pre informed level.

There would be no need for investigations, no need to endanger himself. Even in the event that he got stabbed he could simply turn back time and stop the injury from ever occurring.

He would be in control. Of everything, at any point in time.

How wonderful the idea was.

But the hands of the clock still moved and the lack of such powers left a sour taste on Izaya's lips as he closed his eyes.

It wasn't like him. To wish for silly things like that.

And yet the cord stringing his throat shut only faded while relishing in these artistic fantasies.

Pushing his back off the mattress, Izaya's hands gripped the white rods attached to the sides of his bed. Even the sole attempt of trying to tighten his abdomen shot mild jabs up pain and discomfort up his body and he quickly opted for an easier way to reduce the toll on his body.

The place he was stabbed in, stung. Not as bad as it could, but it was there and the way it recalled unpleasant memories of the previous night as the avid sensation of his pants soaking in his own blood didn't exactly help.

He tried to chase the pictures out of his head, but the memories were too fresh and the incident too recent to achieve his desired result.

Pictures of the guy filled his mind. His expression when he approached him. His voice when he asked his name. He just wanted Izaya to turn so he had a better angle and chance to hit him where it was fatal.

Closing his eyes for a moment Izaya tried to chase away the drowning sensation and bitter aftertaste the memory left as his palm unconsciously trailed to brush his stomach.

Shizuo's hand. He remembered it.

Uncomfortable on an open injury, of course, but safe. Strong. Quicker than anyone else in that club he reacted and pulled some kind of fabric over. A towel maybe? He didn't know.

All he could think about for this moment was the sensation of Shizuo's palm lingering on his skin.

He had saved his life.

There was no denying that.

Gratitude. That should be the upfront emotion to feel about the situation and yet-

Glancing towards the window of his room that connected to the hallway Izaya almost hoped for that man of blond hair to appear magically.

But of course he didn't.

He wasn't here.

Izaya didn't really know why he knew, it was nothing better than a hunch, really and his eyes narrowed in light regret.

Was he waiting for him?

At the club?

Probably.

Did he know he survived?

Izaya didn't know his number. Didn't know his full name.

Knew nothing basically.

Funny, considering it was his job to know people in and out.

Taking a deep breath he moved his body to the bed's edge.

He had to get a move on. 6pm wasn't too far off anymore now that the merciless clock had taken a few more minute's turns. And if there was anything he didn't want to do then it was aggravating Creston further.

Not much was there to be grabbed inside his room as Creston hadn't even bothered to consider a lengthy stay. Only a set of fresh clothes, made for a visit to Night Salvage, was resting on a small table in the corner which caused a tired smile to spread on Izaya's lips.

He had slept pretty long.

Probably caught up on some fatigue too.

Ironically he felt better than before the stabbing, save for the discomfort in his midsection of course.

Never had he been more grateful for his choice of clothes as he unbuttoned the black shirt of silky fabric. Putting it on and off was easier than expected. Only his pants were cursed lightly as putting them on required an awful lot of the muscles that had been affected during the stabbing.

But Izaya wasn't the type to give up easily and so he walked out of his room only a few minutes later.

Busy noises and rushed steps filled the corridor and their angels in white as a few nurses passed by him in an agitated fashion.

Moving aside he made sure to not delay any of them and his sight soon fell on the admission desk down the hall.

He could hear them before he saw them.

A couple nurses. Complaining.

Hushed curses and huffed expressions filled the majority of the small space behind a clear glass and Izaya showed his best smile as he approached the old lady behind the counter.

"What a slave driver-" she uttered under her breath with genuine concern and Izaya didn't need to ask to know that Creston had probably already asked for the time of his release.

"Excuse me," he voiced himself and the women of three, turned to each other quickly as though he had caught them red handed.

Quick glances were exchanged and rigid motions quickly fished for a set of papers as the two others turned to their respective work.

"You are discharging yourself?" the older one asked, but Izaya already saw his name on the papers resting in her hands. It left a bitter taste on his lips to feel the extent of the control that Creston held over his actions and his eyes narrowed for a second.

"I am."

Maybe it was the better smile, or his expression, he didn't know, but the woman that had appeared ready to scold him for even suggesting such a thing quickly seemed to swallow the words on her lips.

The papers were placed onto the counter and moved past the glass with a fluid tempo of habit.

"Signature. Here, here and there," she whispered fairly quietly and Izaya's eyes shortly skimmed the content.

The hospital was just protecting itself. By signing that he was fully conscious and aware of the consequences of leaving their care this early they could make sure he wasn't going to sue them later if one of the stitches became undone for example.

Not that he thought that would happen.

Bringing the pen onto the paper he quickly signed the desired spots.

"I hope you are aware you should go easy on yourself," the nurse whispered quietly, and funnily enough she showed the same expression Shizuo had back at the club.

Concern.

Concern for him.

Why even?

"Tell your boss to go to hell. You won't be working this week," she added with a quick huff and for a second Izaya felt the fake smile on his lips turn into a genuine one despite the lie he was about to tell.

"I will."

"Good." Grasping the papers he had signed, the woman nodded satisfied and Izaya turned.

Timid and slow.

His phone had been awfully quiet since the incident. Then again, most of his partners owner a pretty accurate network of information as well. The news of him having gotten stabbed had probably spread like a wildfire.

And that was exactly why Creston was so mad.

Stepping out of the hospital Izaya breathed in the crisp evening air. It was cold. Much colder than the day before. His breath was forming the softest clouds and for a second his lips formed a circle as he attempted to blow a ring into the air.

He failed, but the action still brought a smile to his lips.

A taxi that was supposed to bring him to the club pulled over fairly quickly as the hospital was a popular location with an everflowing stream of customers.

"Night Salvage." Izaya simply answered as he slipped into the back and his expression churned just lightly.

Leaving the hospital this early and going to the bar was a bad idea as far as his wound was concerned. But his reputation was only going to benefit from the action.

Because the sight of someone that ought to be dead, alive and kicking just a day later with a corpse signifying what it was that happened to people who dared to try and harm him, was sure to serve quite the impact.

It was a smart move when it came to Creston and their profession.

But was it a good idea overall?

Probably not.

Did he want to go there?

Recalling the expression he saw on Shizuo's face last, Izaya's own lips curled into a smile.

Definitely.

It didn't take long for the taxi to arrive.

Which made sense. After all, the ambulance had chosen the closest hospital available to treat Izaya's injury.

Music and bodies moving to the thrumming beats of life quickly came into view and before long Izaya was out of the vehicle and back on the stairs leading down to the oval lounge.

It was a somewhat disturbing sensation to return to the place that had almost spelled his end this soon.

Careful motions moved his body and a tenderness clung to each of his steps.

By the time he arrived at the bar he was a little out of breath too and glad that his favourite spot had been left vacant.

He saw Shizuo before the bartender had a chance to see him.

Rummaging in their fridge for a variety of fruits his back was turned towards Izaya and he quickly took advantage of that fact as he slipped into his seat with a mild expression of discomfort on his face.

Izaya couldn't even tell why, but for some reason he didn't want Shizuo to see how bad he was truly off.

It was when the bartender came back up that he showed his best smile and a quick wave.

"Yo."

The oranges and lemons Shizuo had gathered almost slipped from his hands the second he saw Izaya, but he quickly caught himself as well as the fruits as he readjusted his stance.

"Izaya-"

Relief.

That was the first emotion, blatantly spreading all across Shizuo's expression. The concern he had shown when treating Izaya and the way he had cared for him until the second he passed out quickly flashed through Izaya's mind.

Anger.

That was the second emotion, quickly overwriting the first and with a stern glance Shizuo's forehead folded into a deep frown.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital still?"

Of course he was supposed to be. But right now that was not what Izaya wanted to discuss.

"You want to get rid of me?" He snorted instead and his eyes held the usual amount of mischief as he feigned offense. "I'm hurt."

"You literally are."

Soft. Gentle. Shizuo's answer and voice was clearly not a comeback, but a pure show of concern and it took all momentum out of Izaya's sails as he hesitated.

"... alright I will give you that one."

It was right then that another figure pulled up from behind and Izaya didn't need to look to know that it was Creston who had approached.

The smell of his cigars was as disturbing as it was familiar to him and his body tensed involuntarily.

"I will be at the back." Creston informed curtly, and it was all that Izaya needed to understand his orders for the evening.

"Understood."

There was no option to negotiate. To move or leave.

And Shizuo understood that fact as well as Izaya did.

Eyes of concern laid on his favourite guest as he realized that Izaya had no choice but to be here.

It wasn't his wish, and that fact caused his body to tense with an uncalled urge to act. But he didn't.

Meddling with Izaya's affairs or his boss was not going to end well for either of them, and he had no interest in bringing any more harm to Izaya just to satisfy his urges.

But he saw the people around and it irked him beyond madness to know that they had their eyes on him.

"Hello, I heard you are-"

"Take it and leave." A glass filled with a randomly mixed cocktail meant for another guest was quickly brought onto the counter the second the poor soul dared to approach Izaya.

The loudness of the glass hitting the wood and the expression in Shizuo's eyes, calling for obedience of his order was enough to render the poor guy speechless and he did as he was told.

Grasped the glass and retreated as quickly as he came.

"I'm still capable of speech in case you weren't informed," Izaya quickly pointed out, but he didn't miss the way Shizuo's mood had turned for the worse.

He was annoyed. But not at Izaya.

He could tell by the way his demeanor changed the second his eyes met his.

"How are you?"

Soft. Gentle.

A voice not fitting the anger bottling in Shizuo's guts displayed on his expression and Izaya felt himself oddly drawn towards that gaze.

Questions that formed no clear thoughts and emotions drifting around just as aimlessly took over Izaya's mind and somehow didn't feel like pretending anymore.

"Clean wound, no organs hit. In and out, only grazed my abdominal aorta by a hair. Got me all kinds of different painkillers for the next few days, but apart from that I was pretty lucky apparently."

Why was he telling him all that?

No idea.

It wasn't his business either.

And yet-

Obvious relief spread across Shizuo's eyes and he sighed a deep breath.

"That's good."

The sight of Izaya bleeding to death.

It had changed something. But Izaya couldn't tell what.

Was he mad?

No.

His expression and questions were not those of a mad man.

And suddenly he remembered the face of the guy that supposedly administered him Prothrombin.

"Who is Shinra?"

to be continued~

For those who wondered, no, Izaya does in fact not know Shinra in this one xD Just as he didn't know Shizuo haha

Now let's see what Shizuo will answer to that question C:

Happy new year everyone xD And see you next friday haha C: