[Complicated? How?!] She types frantically, as if her thoughts are moving too fast for her fingers to keep up. [Are you okay?! He didn't do anything to you, did he?]

"Nah, we just... got a lot of issues to work through, you know?" It's the understatement of the century, but it's the best answer he can come up with at the moment that doesn't involve him stooping to the flea's level.

There's a pause as Celty considers the news. She doesn't trust Izaya, but she knows Shizuo can take care of himself. [I'm... not sure I understand... but I respect your decision. I won't pry any further, but please know that I'm here if you need to rant. I'm a pretty good listener. ]

"I bet. Thanks, Celty."

[No problem. That's what friends are for, right? :)]

"Yeah..." There's something gnawing at him, something uncomfortable that steals the light from his smile. "Right..."

[...is something wrong?]

He wishes he knew. "Maybe... I dunno... I think I'm gonna go try and figure that out. Talk to you later, yeah?"

She regards him for a second, then nods. [Yeah. Take care, Shizuo. Text me if you need anything.]

"Will do. Drive safe."

Celty gives him a thumbs up before revving Shooter's engine and taking off. He waves, waiting until she's out of sight to light up a cigarette and take a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooong drag. He said he was going to go figure it out-- but he's not sure how to actually go about doing it. He doesn't have Izaya's number, so it's not like he can just call and check on him... and even if he could, what's to say the stubborn bastard wouldn't just hang up on him?

"Oh, fuck it."

He takes his wallet out of his back pocket and makes sure he has enough money for train fare.

Looks like I'm going to Shinjuku.

-------------

...I'm bored.

In retrospect, Izaya really shouldn't have expected his cleaning spree to last very long. Most of his apartment was already tidy thanks to his darling secretary's hard work, and the rest had only required a few touch-ups. He'd spent an hour or so in the bath after that, only getting out once the water had become too cold to be comfortable... and now all that's left for him to do is wait for his laundry to be done, which he had stupidly forgotten to actually start until he was already out of the tub.

Maybe there's something on T.V. At the very least, some background noise won't hurt.

He's just settled down on the couch, his remote in his hand and his knees tucked into his hoodie, when he hears the intercom buzz. His brow furrows.

I'm not expecting visitors...

He cautiously pads over to the intercom and presses the button. "It's a bit late for a business call, isnt it? Can I help you?"

The voice that answers is muffled, but recognizable enough that his heart starts pounding the moment he hears it. "Yeah, you can buzz me in."

Stay calm stay calm stay-- "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't hear you. What was that?"

"Bullshit. Let me in."

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"Flea..."

"Hello? HellooOOOoo~?"

"I don't have the patience for your fucking games, Izaya. Let me the fuck in, or I let myself in."

"..."

"You have 'til the count of three before I start to get angry. One...."

"....."

"Two...."

*BZZT*

"See? Not so hard. What's your apartment number?"

"..."

"I guess I could just kick down every door until I find you--"

"How are you even talking to me right now if you don't have my apartment number? You need that to access the intercom."

"The security guard keyed it in for me after I threatened to bash his head in. Are you gonna tell me or do I have to--"

"After you threatened to-- ugh, fine. But keep your voice down, don't talk to anybody, don't touch anything--"

"How am I supposed to use the fucking elevator if I can't touch anything?!"

He winces when Shizuo's pitch starts to raise. He's already going to have to pay off the security guard-- he really, really, really doesn't need anyone else finding out he's here. "You can touch the elevator buttons... just do so lightly."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Number."

"It amazes me sometimes that you even have the capacity to form polysyllabic sentences. Ninth floor, Suite A."

He doesn't receive an answer. He can't say he's surprised.

Less than five minutes later, the beast is standing in his living room.

"Whatever do you need, Shizu-chan~?" He asks, the lightness in his tone discordant with the dark look in his eyes. He crosses his arms and cocks his hip, the curl of his lips wavering between a sneer and a scowl.

Shizuo almost seems to be struggling with himself before he finally answers, his response catching Izaya off-guard. "I was... worried."

"You were... worried."

"Yeah."

"About what, exactly?"

"About..." Shizuo grimaces and crosses his own arms, heat starting to flush his cheeks. This went against everything he'd ever felt or believed, and he was finding it very hard not to just turn around and leave... but he'd already come this far, and he wasn't going to chicken out now. "You... I guess."

Izaya stares at him, not sure he heard that right. "Me."

"Yeah. You."

"Forgive me if I seem a little confused, but... what?"

The blonde sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't... really know how to explain it, okay? I just... I kinda had a bad feeling, and I don't like having bad feelings, so I wanted to make sure nothing was... wrong."

"You wanted to make sure... nothing was... wrong." Izaya repeats, hearing the words but unable to make sense of them. "I'm not sure I follow."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'not sure if I follow?' What's there to even follow? I thought something might be wrong, so I came to make sure nothing actually was. Seems pretty straight-forward to me."

"Well of course it would seem straight-forward to someone as simple-minded as you, but to those of us with actual complex thought--"

"Do you even know how to shut the fuck up, or is the sound of your own voice the only thing that keeps you from realizing how absolutely fucking alone you actually are?" The moment the words leave his mouth, he's already regretting them; Izaya looks like he's just been slapped in the face, his mouth hanging open and his eyes as wide as a deer in the headlights. "Shit. Look, Fle... Izaya. I--"

"Get out."

"Huh? Wait, I didn't--"

"Get. Out."

"I'm not going to just fucking leave--"

"And why the hell not, Shizuo?" Izaya asks abruptly, not even bothering to hide his anger. He's too tired to play the part of the unruffled info broker... at this point, he just wants the other man as far away from him as possible. "Why the hell can't you 'just fucking leave?' I don't want you here. I don't want you anywhere near here. So get out, go home, and while you're at it why don't you just do me a favor and drop dead?"

"...what did you just call me?" The look on Shizuo's face is strange, like a mix between concern, curiosity, and frustration.

"Weren't you even listening? I called you--"

"Shizuo."

"That is your name, is it not?"

"Yeah, and you've never once fucking used it no matter how many times I've tried to beat it into you so I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that I'm right and that something is wrong and you're just too proud to fucking admit it."

"You're making a lot of baseless assumptions, Shizu-chan."

"No, no. See..." He closes the space between him and Izaya, taking note of the way the smaller man seems to stiffen the moment he gets a little too close. "I think I get it now. You're scared, aren't you?"

"Of you?" He forces out a derisive snort. "Don't be ridiculous Shizu-chan, when have I ever been--"

"Not of me. Of the unknown."

Why? Why does such an absolute idiot always have to be so perceptive at the most inconvenient times? I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!

"That's prepo--"

"That's why you lie, isn't it?" Shizuo moves closer still, and this time Izaya can't fight the urge to instinctively take a step back. "And why you've tried so hard to ruin my life. I'm just one big unknown for you, aren't I?"

"You're doing quite a lot of theorizing, Shizu-chan. You should probably stop before you hurt yourself--"

"And that. That!" It's as if all the pieces of the puzzle are starting to come together. "You piss people off on purpose, don't you? You want people to hate you, because if they hate you they won't get close and if they don't get close they can't--"

"You are incredibly off-base--"

"I don't think I am! I think I'm right, and you just don't want to hear it--"

"And I think you need to leave before I--"

"Before you what, Izaya? What are you gonna do, huh? Remove me by force?" He can tell he's getting a little too worked up, but the damn louse was being too stubborn for his own good and it was really starting to piss him off. "Because I think we both know how well that would go."

He's right. Izaya hates to admit it, but there's no way he'll be able to get Shizuo to leave if he doesn't want to. That leaves him with only one option... "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine. Let me just check on my clothes." He gestures to the second floor loft with his head, a bitter smile on his face.

"Fine. But make it quick." Shizuo plops down on one of the couches and pulls a brand-new pack of American Spirits out of his pocket. Izaya wants to tell him off, because he does not want his apartment to smell like cigarettes-- but right now, it's for the best to just let the monster do what he wants.

"Of course, Shizu-chan." He casually turns and walks up the stairs, willing his pulse to slow down and his heartrate to stop speeding. "Whatever you say." He mumbles, slipping through the door to the laundry room. He doesn't bother to spare the washer or dryer a single glance, instead choosing to move immediately to the window...

...the window that also happened to be the way to access the fire escape.

Bye bye, Shizu-chan. Try not to break too many of my things when you realize I'm gone.

He starts to drag himself out of bed, the promise of a (hopefully actually this time) warm bath to distract himself with enough to kickstart his motivation to get up-- which he finds is pretty much impossible considering how his entire body is cramped and sore, he's so physically exhausted that it takes all of his energy just to sit up, and the mortification he feels when he discovers that he can barely move without more and more of the monster's cum leaking down the back of his thighs is enough to make him want to be sick.

What have you done, what have you done?!

He had spent spent years and years doing everything he could to avoid this exact scenario. Years and years of pissing Shizuo off, pushing him away, punishing him for the hurt he had caused him. Years and years of carefully building wall upon wall upon wall around himself until he was absolutely certain that his heart was locked up tight and that no one would ever find the key. Years and years of choosing reason over risk, denial over desire, logic over love...

...and all it had taken for him to spread his legs for the beast was a stolen kiss and a little bit of dirty talk.

Congratulations, me! You have finally managed to ruin your own life for once, and you didn't even have to try! Aren't you proud?

He exhales deeply and curls around one of Shizuo's neglected blankets, burying his face in the fluffy fabric as he squeezes it tightly against his chest. He doesn't want to believe any of this is real... he wants to believe that it's all just a nightmare, that when he closes his eyes he'll wake back up in the real world where everything is safe and familiar and last night hadn't happened.

Despicable.

He squeezes his eyes shut and prays with all his heart that when they next opened, it would be his apartment he saw.

He had a feeling he was going to be very, very disappointed.

-------------

It takes a lot longer for Shizuo to wake up, a yawn stretching through his body as he fights his lethargy. He'd always been a deep sleeper, but last night had been so exhausting that he might as well have been dead to the world. He wonders if the flea was still here. Surely he'd have left already...

He rolls over to check and is surprised to see the brunette's sleeping body still lying there next to his, clinging to his bedspread like it was a security blanket. His back is turned, but Shizuo doesn't need to see his face to tell that's something wrong-- just his closed off, withdrawn body language is cause enough for concern.

His eyes take in every dark mark on his pale skin, his guilt digging its roots in even deeper when he realizes that they're worse now than they had been the night before. He tentatively reaches out to brush his fingers over a particularly nasty neck bite, jerking his hand back when the touch causes Izaya to instinctively tense up and pull the blanket over his head.

He... really is like a little kid, isn't he?

He sighs heavily and runs his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure how the situation was going to affect their dynamic, but he did know that there was no going back to the way things were. He had no choice but to accept what had happened and start trying to figure out where to go from there... which was easier said than done, considering the fact that it also meant figuring out exactly what it was he felt for the irritating little louse (and how to deal with him.)

Not much I can do right now though, huh?

He pushes himself up off the bed and pads over to the fridge. His throat is parched, and he's craving an ice cold glass of milk bad enough that he's imagining what it would be like to go swimming in an ocean of the stuff... unfortunately, he finds that there's only a few swallows left in the bottle.

God fucking damn it.

"I'm sitting," is the reply he gets. He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world; like he hadn't spent a decade chasing Izaya, fighting Izaya, trying to kill Izaya. Like he hadn't spent a decade hating him.

"I can see that. Why?" It was more of a demand than an inquiry.

"I'm hungry." Shizuo can feel himself starting to lose patience already, and he hasn't even been here that long. He gropes around in his pocket for his pack of smokes-- when his fingers find the sopping mushy mess, he has to take a deep breath.

A very, very, very deep breath.

Of course my fucking cigs got ruined. Of course.

"Then why not take yourself for a walk and go be hungry somewhere else? I hear there's an animal shelter nearby that gives food to strays-- you should try there! Maybe they'll even give you your rabies shot." Izaya's smile doesn't reach his eyes. He wants Shizuo to leave, to walk out the door and not come back until he's long gone. He doesn't want him here, close enough to touch, close enough to feel.

If this is a dream, it's surprisingly realistic.

"I'd rather be hungry here."

"And I'd rather you didn't."

"Yeah, well I don't give a shit about what you'd 'rather,' flea. I'm hungry, I'm cold, and I'm not moving from this spot until I damn well want to. So, if you don't like it, you can leave!" He stares at Izaya as if daring him to challenge him; if he wanted to fight then so be it, but he wasn't going to be the one to give up first. Not this time.

Well? What's it gonna be? You gonna run away like you always do?

Russet-colored eyes regard the frustrated debt collector with a mix of distaste and amusement. Izaya didn't like giving in, especially not where Shizuo was concerned-- it felt like he was losing to him, like he was admitting defeat. This situation, however, was new; as strong as his dislike for the other man was, his curiosity was stronger. It wouldn't hurt to humor him for a bit to see what happened, would it?

Curiosity killed the cat, Izaya.

Dealing with Shizuo was like dealing with fire. He was uncontrollable; his passion made him a force to be reckoned with, every emotion he felt was like a tornado that threatened to destroy anything and everything in its wake. To Izaya, Shizuo was like chaos personified.

But satisfaction brought it back.

What fun is life if you don't flirt with disaster every now and then?

"Well..." He begins, his voice dripping with false innocence, "I was here first, and I'm not in any particular hurry to leave. So you're just going to have to deal with me, aren't you~?" He rests his chin in his hand and smiles 'sweetly' at the man next to him (who is starting to regret ever setting a foot in here in the first place.)

It takes every ounce of willpower Shizuo has not to deck him in the face. He knew it wasn't going to be easy-- he knew it was going to be like this-- but that doesn't make him any less irritated. "Fine." He grins a toothy grin, the expression more of a warning than a reassurance. When Dennis sets two steaming cups of sake in front of him, he pushes one (as gently as possible, despite how much he wants to pick it up and smash it against the flea's head) towards Izaya.

"...what's this?"

"Booze." Shizuo raises his to his lips.

"Yes, that much is obvious. Let me rephrase: what is it doing in front of me?"

"I dunno, maybe so you can shove it down your throat and shut the fuck up?"

Izaya blinks, for once not entirely sure how to respond. He wasn't used to not knowing what to say, or what to think, or how to act; Shizuo made him feel like he was trying to balance on a threadbare tightrope with no net underneath, like the smallest miscalculation could send everything crashing to the ground.

The higher the risk, the greater the reward.

He lets out one last, dry chuckle before curling his fingers around the drink he has been given and raising it into the air.

"Cheers, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo takes a deep, slow drag off his cigarette and blows the smoke into the night sky. When he breathes back in, a familiar smell tickles his nostrils.

Speak of the devil.

He sees him only seconds later, that stupid furry jacket of his flapping in the wind as he parades across the streets of Ikebukuro like he owns the place. Shizuo almost loses it right then and there (there's a stop-sign only a few feet away that's calling his name, and it would be oh-so-easy to just rip it out of the pavement and throw it at the unsuspecting flea like a javelin) but Shinra's words echoing in his head stop him.

You never bothered to find out.

Of course he didn't. Why would he? He hated him, fucking hated him. He wanted him dead!

Maybe if you'd bothered to give Orihara-kun a chance before deciding you didn't like him, you might not be in this situation.

And what if he had given him a chance? What if he had trusted him, gotten to know him, started to like him? Who's to say Izaya wouldn't have betrayed him the first chance he got?

You're not a coward like he is.

Shit.

Shizuo takes one last hit before flicking the butt to the ground, grinding it into the dirt, and striding quickly towards the corner Izaya had disappeared around. The brunette was about a block or two ahead of him, humming something to himself while waving his fingers around like a conductor. Shizuo waits until he's sure Izaya can't see him before making a rather poor attempt at sneak-running to the next corner; thankfully the clouds chose that moment to open up and start sending sheets of rain falling onto the asphalt, drowning out any noise the clumsy blonde might have made. He's about to move up again when a group of high school girls brush hurriedly past him, drawing Izaya's attention and forcing Shizuo to dart behind a bus shelter. He can hear them chattering excitedly-- something about a sleepover, hotpot, and dry clothes-- but he didn't care enough about them to try and pay more attention.

When he thinks it's safe to look, Shizuo pokes his head out from cover. The girls are gone, but Izaya didn't seem to have moved an inch-- he was just standing there, letting the rain drench his hair and soak his jacket and flood his shoes.

"Hotpot, huh?" The words are soft, barely audible above the weather, and he would have missed them had he been focused on anything other than the dripping man in front of him. "Must be nice..." There's a sad smile on Izaya's face that catches Shizuo off-guard, but it's quickly replaced with the same irritating grin that had haunted his thoughts for years. "Ahhh, but I should get out of the rain before I catch a cold!" The informant resumes his joyful jaunt, pausing only to jump over a particularly large puddle. "I wonder if Shizu-chan ever gets sick? Probably not, fools are immune after all... "

I'll show you immune, you goddamn flea...

If Shizuo hadn't been annoyed already, he certainly was now. The clothes his brother gave him were sopping wet, he was having an emotional crisis, and the reason for both of those things was prancing around in clothes even wetter than his were. He was starting to think this wasn't worth it; that he should just give up, go home, and get out of the rain. It wasn't until Izaya slipped through a door in front of him that he realized he was in front of Russia Sushi.