How many days had it been? How many hours, minutes, seconds had it been? He had lost count of pretty much everything he claimed not to matter even a little bit. He didn't know what day it was or even what time it was, which was why he had stopped coming outside completely now. He had been in his large office for days or even weeks. The only people he even saw a little of was his clients he had told to come visit him instead of the other way around. It was a risky move, yes. But what did it matter when he could stay around his beloved humans he loved to torture in all kinds of ways, see them suffer the most possible?

Crimson eyes closed, thin arms rested on the black leather chair's arms, beck pressed against the back of the chair, chest heaving slowly. Hours could have passed without him knowing it or even being aware of time passing by. It wasn't like he had kept track of anything up until now so why would he now? He wouldn't and he didn't.

Being the way he was and pretended to be, he was supposed to be out among the humans he claimed to loved so much. But instead, he isolated himself in his office, unable to function like a normal person would. He was unable to make himself food, unable to stand up without getting dizzy and all in all unable to take care of himself like he should. He had lost way too much weight and the dark lines under his eyes showed perfectly how little sleep he got.

He didn't dare sleep anyway. Every time he closed his eyes, those voices came back to him. Those voices and visions wouldn't stay out of his head and it annoyed him, even to the point where he was scared even though there was no way he would ever admit to something like that. The great informant Orihara Izaya couldn't be afraid of anything. Not after all those fights with the most dangerous monster nearby.

Thoughts were currently running through his head and yet... it was so quiet in his head. It didn't make sense and he really didn't care. He was like a walking zombie, didn't care about his own being and only cared about what he there for; work, nothing but work. He had to push himself until he couldn't any longer. Which was soon, very soon, if he didn't take care of himself.

A loud and sudden sound of a fist banged against hard wood, a knock, made crimson eyes open wide within a split second and the small and thin body almost jumped up from the sudden interruption in the wonderful silence he had had for who knows how long now. His gaze shifted around the large room he was in for just a moment, before he attempted to pull himself up from the black leather chair he was sitting on.

But the dizziness came over him like a wave within second, blurring his vision and making him unable to stand up for more than a second or two before he plopped back down on the black leather chair behind him, scooting it slightly back. A hand quickly joined to his slightly heated forehead while his eyes closed again in attempt to stop the shaky things from making him go crazy.

A heavy sigh passed his lips, facing his defeat. He was really unable to do anything by himself, even unable to as much as stand up from the chair and go up and answer the door. He mentally cursed his own weakened body and cursed the fact that he had sent his assistance away for the day hours ago. There was only one choice to stop the endless knocking; yelling.

"It's open!"

His own voice was way too loud and it made him groan slightly to himself, pressing his palm more firmly to his own heated forehead. Oh, how he hated how miserable he had become within such a short amount of time. He didn't know exactly how long. Days, maybe even weeks. It was awful. Nothing more, nothing less.

A squeaking sound quickly made him groan once again, followed by the sound of shoes against the floor, then a much louder sound of the heavy wooden door getting slammed shut shortly after. He had already figured out who this was, who would have planned to pay him a visit like this, without any kind of warning.

Izaya barely even listened to the words that left the brown haired man's lips. He knew who it was just by the sound of that voice and the way the tone jumped slightly in worry. The underground doctor just wouldn't leave him alone. Not in the condition he was in.

A couple of snapping fingers in front of his face made him snap back to reality quickly and his crimson eyes quickly trailed up to meet with brownish ones almost hidden behind those glasses on this man's face. A roll with his eyes was all the other male got back for now.

"Izaya-kun... are you even listening to me?"

Shinra tilted his head just slightly to the one side, his eyes inspecting the thin and almost zombie like man in front of him. He couldn't stop himself from checking up on this man, this being the second time within the past two weeks. And now he finally had found something that could make it a bit better... or at least give it attempt.

Izaya's tired gaze met with the doctor's worried and the corner of his lips got forced into the usual Cheshire cat like smirk even though it seemed so odd with the tired look on the man's eyes. He really was like a zombie.

"Of course I'm listening to you, Shinra. It's just that everything you say is uninteresting and possibly a waste of my precious time. You know, I don't have much time to small talk, so either you finish within the few seconds I have... or you leave. It's as simple as that."

Just by the way he spoke those words, the tone in his voice... Just by listening to that, it was obvious that something was wrong, something was simply just off and this man wasn't functioning how he should. Not at all.

Shinra let out a silent sigh, knowing this man definitely hadn't been listening to a damn thing he had been saying. He pushed the glasses he always wore further up on the bridge of his nose and he placed his other palm down onto the surface of the desk next to him.

"Izaya-kun, what I was trying to tell you, is that you really need to take care of yourself. But if I know you right, you will never even consider that. I know I can't take care of you for you but I know someone who can and because of you being nearly a walking dead, I want that person to come and take care of you until you at least can function normally."

He paused, knowing the look on the informant's face. That man really didn't care about himself or anything but work. A heavy sigh passed his lips as he pulled himself up and walked over to stand on the opposite side of the desk inside.

"No matter what you say, the person I asked to come will get here in a matter of minutes and I will not leave you alone until he does get here. Because, Izaya-kun... I actually care about my friends and I can't see one them slowly killing himself like this."

Izaya knew this was serious but he did nothing but push it away, push it out of his own head like it didn't even matter at all, like his own life was nothing but a small thing even though he knew that was a lie. He had rambled on about being a God after all so his existence was important, his work that was.

"Look, Shinra... I really don't have time to hear about your rambling things. I'm fine. And I really don't need some random guy to take care of me. I mean, I am 21 and I can take care of myself. I'm not a baby who needs a babysitter. Shinra... I'm fine."

That was all a lie. He wasn't fine. Anyone could see that if they just looked good enough for it.

"Okay, first of all; you're not fine. Second of all; it's not just some random guy. It's a guy you know rather well and even though I know you will hate me for doing this, it's the only guy I could think of that was available and actually needed a job."

Izaya let out a heavy and exhausted sigh, placing his palm to his heated forehead once again, his gaze locked on the brunette before him.

"Alright, fine. Who is it?"

Shoes met with concrete every time legs moved forward, taking step by step down the street. Hands were buried deep in the pants' pockets, one hand wrapped around the almost empty pack of cigarettes like it would keep it protected and secure from anything that could make it go away. Bleached blond hair swayed slightly in the wind every time there was a heavy enough wind passing by the tall blond.

Amber eyes were hidden behind blue shades, shades rested on the bridge of his nose. His body was covered in a bartender uniform which only made people who didn't know who he was think he was some sort of bartender or even a butler of some sort. He wasn't, though. Nowhere near it.

Shizuo Heiwajima had recently lost his job as the bodyguard for the debt collector Tom Tanaka, since Tom moved out of town permanently. He had to find another job to get money and the first week hadn't been good. No one wanted to hire him because of the rumor he had, the rumor of him being a monster which was mostly true. Just because of those rumors, he had begun to think of himself as nothing but a horrible monster that shouldn't be allowed to walk free. But those kinds of thoughts were things he would never in a million years admit to having. He couldn't show his weak side to anyone – no matter the reason and no matter the person.

The underground doctor had called him the day before and offered him a troubling job. But at least it was a job and he hadn't hesitated for a single second to take it, even though he hadn't gotten to know what kind of job it was and he had only gotten an address and a time to show up, this time getting nearer and nearer.

He was headed towards Shinjuku but he hadn't really realized it. If he had known who it was he was going to be with and who it was he was going to work for and what the job was, he would never had said yes. Not for a single second would he hesitate to turn the job down even if that meant he would have to die of hunger and kicked out of his apartment. He didn't care.

And it wasn't long before he made it to the place where he had been told to show up at a certain time, which was just around the corner. His mind obviously wasn't working right, or else he would've seen where he was, known who he was going to see in a matter of minutes.

After only a short minute, he made it up to the place he was told to come to and he quickly lifted a fist up, only to knock on the wooden door before him. He didn't get an answer right away, not that he had expected it either, so he just stood there and waited.

Crimson eyes widened in horror when Izaya heard that name slip passed the doctor's lips and his heart started beating faster than ever, pounding in his chest like it was going to jump out between his ribs, break out to freedom like a prisoner in jail.

He tried to pull himself up from the chair he was sitting on but the second he did, the dizziness shook over him like an overwhelming wave surrounding him and he just gave up on trying. Instead, he gave the brunette before him an intense stare of shock and surprise.

"You... bastard. There is no way in fucking hell Shizu-chan wants to get over here and take care of me! I don't want that freak in my place! What the hell are you thinking, you dumb ass? He'll end you killing me, for God's sake! I thought you wanted me to stay alive, not send a freaking monster after me! What's going on in that brain of yours?"

Even though his own level of yelling was giving him a pounding headache, he couldn't stop himself. He had to let it all out to show just how frustrated he was, just how irritated he was over this little thing. He would never let that freak into his place.

Shinra pushed the glasses he wore further up the bridge of his nose, expecting this man to react like he did. He only managed to part his lips just a bit before the knocking to the door interrupted him, making the zombie like male jump in something one could easily take as fear.

"Ah, I guess he's here then."

Before he could get stopped, he turned around and walked over to the door, hearing the yells of words like "stop", "get your ass back here" and "don't fucking let him inside". But did he listen? No. He didn't and he wouldn't even pretend he did.

Izaya panicked. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He was going to die if that monster found out about this, which he would and he would definitely take a chance now that the informant was weaker than he had been ever before.

Caught in panic and being unable to think clearly, he pulled himself down from the black leather chair and rolled down under the desk instead, his heart pounding hard in his chest. His crimson eyes flickered around and he curled together in a ball, trying to hide the best he could.

He heard the door open and his eyes closed tightly, wishing this wasn't about to happen.

A/N: So yeah. I decided to make a remake of my story "This Love, This Hate" because of how that story became. I really didn't like it and I screwed up the idea. Updates will still be slow, though, because of life catching up on me, bringing me down every single day. I thank you all for reading and reviews always puts a smile on my face, no matter how tough my day has been.