Everything was hazy, and he couldn't quite get a grip on the situation. It was as if Izaya was fighting his way through a dense mist. Rough carpet scratched the back of his neck and a figure was hovering over him. A large, angry figure. And… yup, those were definitely callused fingers pressing into his throat.

"Kill you. Kill you. Fucking kill you dead."

This was certainly not an ideal situation.

"Sh-shizu…" he croaked. How was it possible to come to as someone was making you pass out again?

"You fucking louse. Scum, rapist, pervert, shitbag!" With each insult the pressure grew. Izaya's eyes buldged and his wrists flailed limply. Shizuo was lost in a fury that was even beyond what Izaya had previously witnessed. There was shame in his expression, but it was mostly a controlled rage. That was even scarier than when he lost control. This time he knew exactly what he was doing, and seemed intent on seeing the deed through to the end.

Well, you know what they say about playing with fire.

Izaya tried to speak, but there was no air to waste on words as he clung to the consciousness he'd regained. His hands moved slowly towards his jacket on the floor, which had been discarded during their passionate scene only a short while ago. He patted the pocket, feeling straight through to the carpeting underneath. Shit, his knife must be on the other side, well out of reach. However, there was definitely something inside. He toyed with it, listening to the sometimes incoherent mutterings of the man now trying to kill him. Once he had the object in position, he summoned all his strength, drew as deep a breath as he could manage, and raised a hand to touch Shizuo's forehead.

"Poke."

The expression on Shizuo's face, still red with anger, softened a bit. His head tilted to the side in confusion and, blissfully, the grip on Izaya's throat loosened. Cold air rushed into his lungs, and the informant began to feel his strength returning to him with ever breath. One of those rough hands released it's hold and traveled up to the blonde's forehead to touch what was stuck there. Shizuo treated it as if it were a ticking bomb, first poking at it, then slowly peeling it off. He found himself staring down at a picture of Izaya treating him to a kiss on the cheek, while he was sporting a look of mild embarrassment.

"IZAAAAYYYYAAAAAAAA!"

But the informant had used the momentary distraction to slip out of his grasp. Already he had snatched his jacket and boxers up off the floor, abandoning the pants altogether. His course laughter was barely audible as he stepped into the underwear while bounding out the door, a split second before the coffee table followed, leaving a large crack in the hallway wall. By the time Shizuo had scrambled over the piece of furniture and out of the apartment, he could hear the front door of the building slam shut.

"FUCK!" He kicked the table back into his place and slammed the door before the neighbors came out to see the mess (and the fact that he still hadn't tucked himself into his pants).

It had been a little over a month since Izaya had last ventured into Ikebukuro. Usually the thought of encountering the ex bartender would hardly discourage him, but after that extremely close call he decided that it might be best to lay low for a while. Izaya still winced slightly at the thought of being driven into that cheap, rough carpeting. The marks on his neck had only just faded completely. Apparently Shizuo had gone to Shinra about getting tested for STDs. That piece of information had made Izaya almost double over with laughter when it reached his ears. But it was also accompanied by the knowledge that Shizuo didn't remember anything about that night. The only clue he had to work with was the purikura sticker on his brow. Perhaps out of fear about what he would learn, or what other evidence of his humiliation Izaya might have, he didn't leave the town to come searching for him. Which was fine by Izaya, now that he was back to his boring and infuriating self.

Oh, but he did miss the place of his youth. Izaya smiled and looked around at the tall, gray buildings surrounding him. The man clad in black had finally returned to his old stomping grounds, and was standing on top of an overpass in a relatively abandoned part of town. The time was late afternoon, and he had known for a very long while that the street leading under the bridge was a favored shortcut of a certain young Raira Academy student.

In fact, as he was enjoying the cool breeze against his face, that particular bleach haired blonde was coming into view. He walked with the confident gate of someone who thought himself untouchable, though Izaya knew firsthand of his damaged past. He had helped arrange it, after all.

As the unsuspecting student passed under the bridge, Izaya removed a chunk of concrete from his pocket. It was the exact weight that Shinra had estimated an object could be and fall from a height of ten feet and not kill a man. Just knock him out for a minute or two. Perhaps cause some slight memory loss.

Izaya grinned as he casually let the chunk drop.

Who knew there were so many different sides of humans, and so much fun that they could have together.