Hello everyone..

I am new here and I really don't know how to start, so I'll try to be as brief as possible..

This is a Durarara FanFic and the original characters and story do not belong to me, but this story does of course..

I'm really sorry for any mistakes or so because :

1-This is not just my 1st drrr fanfic , this is my 1st fanfic ever!

2-English is not my first language

3-It has been a while since I watched drrr

And last but not least, I really hope you enjoy it, I will be waiting for your reviews, and I accept criticism :)

Chapter One

Brain Freeze

Shizuo's Apartment

9-9-2012

...

What changed?

Seriously what did?

So he has to go back to his old self, has to give up wearing suffocating over priced suits and go back to his old dichromatic bartender uniforms, to give up the fancy bakery he was running and go back to be a debt collector's bodyguard.

That's not even bad, that's.. comfortable, and more familiar, isn't it?

But if.. if it really is, then why does he feel a sudden blinding headache, why does his nose burn so hard and his eyes sting that much?

Why they hell is he crying?!

Why is he staring at his cellphone with such desperate rage?

Because he keeps hearing the annoying message, telling him that his number was blocked, for the ninth time? Because he's fed up with trying so hard in this relationship that he seriously thinks that giving up is the right choice?

Or because he knows deep inside that he might not have tried hard enough?!

But what part of the his butchered arms, with all the cuts and bruises decorating them, doesn't scream "I TRIED SO FUCKING HARD"?!

And now.. now what?

Would he even be able to get back to what he was? Does the world have a place for a now helpless twenty five year old loser who can't think or manage to go through the simplest everyday routines without... ?

So what?!

What if he doesn't even go back to his old life and boring self? Who would miss him, or feel sorry for him? Who would try to help?

Would he even let them ?

And who fucking said he needs help at all?

He doesn't need all that, he doesn't need help, or friends, or anyone! He just needs.. a smoke!

And as ironic as that sounded, he tiredly reached to his night stand and grabbed his half full box of cigarettes with a bitter sarcastic smile on his lips, and a grip that almost turned it to mush if he didn't manage to loosen it a bit , for he is not going to ruin everything he loves for fuck's sake!

With thin pale lips he snatched one of the few precious sticks and lazily lit it, and all his troubles seemed to fade away temporarily with that heavenly first drag and the lightness in his head that it causes. He would love this cigarette and makes sure he doesn't ruin his relationship with it as long as it loves him back and calms him down, as long as the three minutes he would take till he reaches its filter, or as short as that is! At least the beautiful stick has been nothing but nice to him, and gave him nothing but pleasure, with no pain or suffering included in the package... at least for now.

Sounds like a good plan!

The second one was less pleasurable as usual, followed by a third, then a fourth, until he reached the fifth that tasted like nothing at all, and just felt like hot air going in and out of his lungs. That was when he decided to stop. He didn't want to finish this box before getting a new one, he also needed to a new plan. He needed something much stronger than cigarettes, something to knock him down, to freeze his brain so it won't work, maybe then he would stop thinking and remembering and eventually.. stop crying!

He managed to stand on his wobbly legs and staggered to the kitchen looking for liquor, he almost destroyed it when he didn't find any. Why the hell did he have to be so picky about tastes? Why doesn't he have at least one beer can?! That would have helped so much right now!

He was about to desperately head back to his bedroom when he remembered something. He opened his freezer to find it lying there, waiting for him in a winter rest of its own, a box of vanilla ice cream. And with a childish grin like that of a five year old, he grabbed a large spoon and hurried back to his bedroom hugging his precious newly found treasure.

Slumping back on his messy bed, he eagerly opened the box and dug in with the spoon to come out with a giant vanilla hill that soon jumped inside his mouth and...

Brain freeze!

The sudden punching headache in his head was added to his old one making him feel as if his brain was on fire!

Icy fire!

And the same way he used to enjoy hurting himself, cutting his arms and punching steel till he was numb with pain and bleeding like crazy, he kept on swallowing large hills of ice cream, not waiting for it to melt a little, or slowing down a bit, until the large box was almost empty.

That was when he decided to stop, maybe because he was too full, or the pain was too much. Maybe because he was too tired to think or cry anymore, for all he wanted now was to sleep, just to be left alone to close his eyes, wishing he never opens them again..

He let the box fall next to his bed on the floor with the spoon in it, for he was in no condition to give a fuck about taking it back to the kitchen, or even clean the mess it caused on the floor, to hell with everything!

And his eyelids were slowly falling down, he kept rewinding their last phone call.. the last as in a while ago, and the last as in never again..

So what if Izaya broke up with him ?!