note: to avoid likely conclusion, bolded dates are normal time, bolded and italicized are the past.

chapter twenty three: april 23rd

Hello! Orihara Izaya here!

Have you ever wondered just how many historical events have happened on each day? For example, your birthday? Or a holiday? Christmas Day, certainly, isn't known only for Christmas Day. In the year 274, the Roman emperor Aurelian had a temple dedicated to Sol Invictus. And then in 875, Charles the Bald was crowned emperor of Rome. Fascinating, no?

One source says that 189 historical events happened on April 23rd. A temple was built; a battle freed Ireland from foreign control; conquests, uprisings, annexations all took place. Many things happened. I suppose our April 23rd is the hundred ninetieth historical event.

But it's not the only time it was thought the world would end.

On April 23rd, 1990, Elizabeth Clare Prophet thought the world would end in twelve years because of a nuclear war starting. Her devout followers prepared for this and stockpiled shelters with supplies and weapons.

As you can most likely tell, the world did not end because more than sixteen years have passed without the beginnings of a nuclear war. Elizabeth was diagnosed with epilepsy and Alzheimer's disease in 1998.

Tragic.

But, like I said, every day has multiple events happening; it's just a matter of us knowing about them. Humans are often so focused on one event they forget everything else. Many people only know February 14th to be Valentine's Day, but in 1747, James Bradley first presented his findings of the Earth's wobbling motion on its axis in London. Many people only know October 31st to be Halloween, but in 1517, Martin Luther posted the 95 Theses on the Wittenberg Church. And, finally, many people only think December 25th to be Christmas, when in 1599, Natal was also founded in Brazil.

The problem with humans is that they're often so absorbed with what concerns them directly. But, I suppose, that's human nature! Being selfish is necessary to survive and thrive; if one focuses too much on others, spends all his time worrying about them and neglecting himself, he will most likely perish far too soon. Selfishness has advanced and survived through natural selection.

So, really, it's not that much of a problem. It's a blessing, even if much of history goes unknown because of our obsession with the present and near future.

April 23rd of this past year wasn't the only time the world was thought to end.

But the thing about the world ending…

Is that the first time it truly happens is also the last.

august 13, 5:31 p.m.

More than a year had passed since Yagiri Namie's body was discovered in her small but well-kept apartment.

It had been a shock to everyone. Namie wasn't friends with them, per se, but people did know her. She was pleasant enough. She'd stop if addressed and would make a few comments about the weather, but would never be the one to initiate conversation. But while most people answered 'good, how about you?' when asked 'how are you?' Yagiri Namie would return with a succinct nod. The conversation could feel precarious; her 'that seems fine' was, by all means, a perfectly legitimate response, but her stony expression and monotonous tone would indicate otherwise. She didn't join in much on social events for the community and when Izaya arrived, that was really the first anyone ever saw her interact willingly and repeatedly with someone.

But nobody had thought she would kill herself and still no one knew why. Withdrawn, yes. A bit hard to get along with, certainly. But suicidal?

Nobody saw it coming.

Her death was mourned quietly. She was a member of the community but her passing didn't seem to hit many people that hard; after all, she had seemed to prefer to stay on the outskirts. But people paid their respects, bouquets of flowers multiplying in front of her door. Her apartment complex saw a few more people than usual coming in and out for about two weeks, but then they tapered off. Her apartment still wasn't rented out; people weren't coming at a fast enough rate that the room had to be used, and so it stayed as it was. A few people would murmur about this in front of her door but others would hush them, say that it was rude. People generally didn't linger; they left flowers, bowed their heads, and left.

Oddly enough, the only person who never seemed to be there was the person she was last seen with.

"Masaomi-kun! Saki-chan!"

Flinching, Kida looked up. Saki gave a calm smile, her hand squeezing Kida's tighter when it began to shake. Orihara Izaya approached them; he wore the same pleasant expression he always did, though it wasn't difficult to pick up on the problems with his current appearance. He was thinner, his skin paler. 'Sickly' should've been the proper word to describe him, but it didn't seem right; he didn't look weaker, just different. Kida couldn't put his finger on it.

"What a beautiful day to be taking a walk! How have you been?"

"Fine, Izaya-san," Saki answered. "And you?"

"Splendid!"

Orihara Izaya hadn't been on the island long enough for everyone to know his name, but everyone who had been in the Tokyo area knew he was there. Kida wasn't surprised when multiple people approached him to voice their concerns about Izaya. He did his best to assuage him; despite his own uneasy feeling, he believed that Izaya wasn't there to hurt anyone.

But after Namie's body was discovered, Kida noticed Izaya's temporary disappearance.

He didn't actively seek him out, especially not after that one night, but he did stay on alert for him. Even though Izaya didn't seem to be posing an imminent threat, he was still dangerous; Kida had plenty of reasons to be wary of him.

He thought it surprising. Of course, Izaya and Namie weren't friends. Neither of them were the type to make friends. They were a special sort of awful that only they could tolerate, but they seemed to be all each other had on the island. Everyone needed someone, Kida thought, and Namie had been Izaya's.

Then again, this was Orihara Izaya.

Selfish, greedy, cowardly bastard.

"Glad to see you out and about," Kida murmured, lips curving downwards. "Haven't been seeing much of you lately."

Izaya smiled and the way he did so sent chills down Kida's spine. "Missed me, Masaomi-kun?"

"Not particularly."

"How mean! Of course, Shizu-chan always says the same thing… right, Shizu-chan?" and he looked to his left. He let out another laugh and Kida's eyes widened.

Izaya tilted his head and smiled sweetly.

"Masaomi-kun, frowning causes wrinkles. Namie-san knows all about that, of course, don't you?" He looked to his left, still smiling.

Kida felt his blood run cold. He didn't listen to the rest of the conversation that Saki took over, and was still frozen when Izaya walked past them. Only when he was out of earshot did Kida ask in a stilted voice:

"Saki, there's no one else here, right?"

"No," she said quietly, looking up at Kida with a sad smile. "Tragic, isn't it? He's all alone now."

Kida nodded mutely and looked down at his feet.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed.

"…Am I awful if I think he deserves it?"

august 23, 3:52 a.m.

Ten days later, investigators find Orihara Izaya's dead body in his apartment.

august 6, 9:53 p.m.

Izaya stopped by city hall later that night.

He noticed something strange about Shizuo. Sometimes his footsteps echoed, the sounds reverberating in an empty space as they normally did. But other times they didn't; he'd see Shizuo walking, feel him keep up, but he wouldn't hear anything. This was one of those times. His footsteps had been plenty loud on the way here, crunching gravel and stepping on twigs, but once they were on clean tiles, it was silent.

But, Izaya decided, it made sense. He was a hallucination. Hallucinations didn't make sense. Furthermore, this hallucination was a projection of his mind, and his mind was deciding that it made sense. Obviously, it made sense.

Izaya's mental state was not at its peak and deteriorating quite clearly.

Or, he thought, maybe improving. It was growing more vivid and creative. That was it. He liked that better.

It was late at night; there were a few people left but Izaya had long ago figured out that security around here was relatively lax. He slipped through quietly and easily, having memorized this building he'd been in and seen the floor plan of once. Finding Kuzuhara Kinnosuke's mailbox, he pulled out a normal sized envelope, placing it at the very top before leaving.

It was only when Izaya was back in his apartment that Shizuo spoke:

"…She'd appreciate that."

The next morning, a secretary read the note:

Yagiri Namie is deceased in the bedroom of her apartment.

november 6, 11:52 p.m.

September came.

"Did you know, Shizu-chan?" Izaya asked on a rainy morning.

Shizuo was sprawled on the couch, reading his book.

"It's Namie-san's funeral today," Izaya continued nonchalantly. "You can go if you'd like. I think I'll pass. Namie-san wouldn't want me there anyway."

"You're just going to go later tonight," Shizuo mumbled, his first and only words that day.

Izaya hummed. He turned another page of the book he'd picked up from the library and decided to keep from conversation. Shizuo also didn't say anything further; he'd grumble every now and then, mostly little comments about whatever passage he was reading, and even though Izaya wasn't responding, he couldn't help but listen. He shivered because it was like deja vu, like on an infinite loop, hearing the same commentary about the same plot about the same book from the same person.

Izaya hadn't turned the page in over an hour before he realized he wasn't reading.

Hours later, after the sun had set, when he crouched down in front of her grave, Izaya wasn't even surprised to hear Shizuo's footsteps. Smiling slightly, he left a bouquet of flowers and her most worn novel, thumb lingering on the cover before he pulled back. Shizuo stood a fair distance from Izaya, silently watching him.

"Don't worry, Shizu-chan," he said quietly and stood, hands in his pockets.

He felt a cool breeze and smiled, closing his eyes.

"…We'll be seeing her soon enough."

September passed.

October came.

"October is passing by quite quickly."

Izaya looked up in concern, frowning.

"Wait, Dota-chin… I don't think you should be cooking. Aren't I eating air?"

"Then you do it."

"Dota-chin's just tired of cooking all the time."

"You'll die if you don't eat, Izaya."

"You've been cooking for us!"

"The three of us are hallucinations and you're the only one who needs to eat."

"Then why cook?"

"To draw your attention to the kitchen and have this conversation."

Arms crossed over his chest, Izaya leaned against the wall with a bony shoulder and hip. He'd admit that there were days where he skipped a meal or two or three, but he'd been busy. Hallucinations took up a lot of his time.

Kadota frowned at him. "At least put on some rice."

"What, Dota-chin's worried about me?" he teased.

"Yeah."

Izaya's lips pursed. He flinched a bit when he heard a gruff 'move' and straightened, flattening himself against the wall in time to watch Shizuo move past him. He plugged in the rice cooker and turned to Izaya, staring expectantly.

Izaya sighed dramatically, going to actually plug in the rice cooker. "Fine, fine! I'll make enough rice for all of us, all right? Who would've known having you two around would be almost as annoying as Shinra…"

"We'll be less annoying when you start taking care of yourself," Shizuo snapped. He was rough as always; for all the days where he said nothing and was startlingly peaceful, there were just as many where Izaya absolutely couldn't ever forget he was there. His apartment wasn't that big but Shizuo's presence easily filled it; he could be in the furthest room and Izaya would still just feel him there.

Izaya smiled. "Shizu-chan only wants that because this is the last remnant of your existence."

Kadota sighed. "We'll be your reasons to live until you find one yourself," he interjected before Shizuo could snap back at him. He shrugged tiredly. "Okay?"

Izaya's half lidded eyes watched him, holding his gaze momentarily before he took out the pot to wash the rice in. He waited until the rice was on and cooking to turn around; palms pressing to the top of the counter, his fingers curled over the edge. Izaya tilted his head and gave a smirk.

"All right. But that may be a while, Dota-chin. Good thing none of you can die."

He paused.

"Again, I mean."

October passed.

The three months since Namie's death went by in a blur and Izaya could only remember bits and pieces. But he was constantly aware of one thing:

True to his word, Shizuo stayed.

Izaya sort of regretted asking him to.

Shinra and Kadota made their appearances, but Shizuo was the constant. Sometimes Kadota would be in the kitchen or Shinra would be on the balcony, but Shizuo would always be loitering somewhere, reading a book or just lying out on the couch. He was a hallucination; Izaya knew that. He hadn't lost his mind so much as to finally believe these figments of his imagination were real, but they felt real.

They felt so real and that had terrified him at first. He found that if he tried really hard, he could will them away. They always came back, but knowing he had the option was comforting and he felt that if he kept doing so, he could probably keep them away for longer periods of time, maybe altogether.

But as annoying as Shinra's chirping was, as disapproving as Kadota's sighs were, as haunting as Shizuo's presence was, the loneliness was worse and harrowing. It swallowed him up and it got to the point where Izaya couldn't do anything because he felt suffocated. Making tea reminded him of Shinra and how protective he had been of one particular china set. Going for a walk reminded him of Kadota because he'd take walks to, as he claimed, 'keep it together because otherwise you and Shizuo will drive me crazy.' And reading was the worst. Reading reminded him of Shizuo. Words, pages, bindings reminded him of Shizuo.

It didn't take long for Izaya to stop willing them away.

Of course, there were downfalls. Sometimes the apartment would be loud. But other times Kadota and Shinra would be silent or just entirely not there. He'd excused it as Kadota and Shinra just having less of a presence, but he didn't like that reasoning because of its implication about Shizuo. So then he decided Kadota and Shinra were just quieter and his mind had manifested that memory, but remembered that, unless provoked, Shizuo really was the most quiet of the three.

And also, Izaya wanted to scold himself, Shinra? Quiet?

He hadn't thought he was losing it that much.

Shizuo was always there, always on his mind. Always seen, heard, spoken to, or a combination of the three; Shizuo was always, always, always there and Izaya refused to admit why because, after all, Shizuo was just like anyone else.

But he was there.

Shizuo, who he played chess with.

Shizuo, who he loitered on the balcony with.

Shizuo, who he discussed things with.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya murmured, "are you angry?"

Shizuo frowned. "…I'm not that sore a loser. Besides, you've won five games and—"

"Not about that."

"Oh."

Shizuo sighed. Izaya watched him turn around so the small of his back was against the railing, palms flat against the metal. Izaya himself was leaning with his folded arms resting on the surface, quietly overlooking the view.

"…No," Shizuo said.

Izaya smiled tiredly.

"You're saying that because you're a projection of my subconscious."

Shizuo looked over.

"That doesn't make it definitely a lie, though."

Of course, Shinra and Kadota were there occasionally as well. Izaya wondered briefly about Hachi but stopped, decided he didn't need an imaginary dog leaving imaginary, but probably very real smelling, crap all over the apartment.

Life continued. Izaya was still alive. He ate and he exercised, fulfilled his quota of social interaction with both imaginary and real people (though heavily weighted towards the imaginary.) Things were all right. Simon gave him free sushi. He ignored the pitying smiles. He went shopping for groceries when he wanted. He consulted a few maps but never seriously considered leaving the island.

Because what was out there? Who was left? Izaya was tired; he didn't know if he had it in him to fight more zombies, see people he once knew drag their feet as the risen undead. He was tired. He was exhausted. Izaya felt that he deserved to rest, that karma was getting its fill with the whole haunting him thing.

So this way, everything worked out.

Stirring, a sudden shift on his bed woke Izaya. He'd always been a light sleeper and with everything that's happened, that certainly wasn't going to change. Sighing, Izaya sat up and rubbed at one eye, smirking tiredly at the shadowy figure.

"Three months," he murmured. "Have to say, you really took your time, didn't you?"

Yagiri Namie examined her nails, sitting on the foot of Izaya's bed with her legs crossed.

"Decided to take a small vacation before coming back."

She looked up and glared. Izaya frowned. "What, you're angry? You pulled the trigger," he said nonchalantly.

"And who handed me the gun?"

"Didn't mean you had to use it."

"And who pulled the rug out from under my feet?"

Izaya was silent before lying back down.

"You and Shizu-chan can chat tomorrow."

december 14, 3:19 p.m.

The thing was, everyone else was so lucky.

"Everyone else was so lucky."

"Are you seriously going to start with that right now?" Shizuo growled. His foot visibly twitched at his remark and Izaya just looked over, smiling nicely.

"You're imaginary, Shizu-chan. Throw all the couches you want, but they won't actually hurt me."

Shizuo slammed his book down on the coffee table and it made quite a realistic thud.

"You wanna see me fuckin' try it?!"

"See," Izaya waved a hand, "with Namie-san, she's an awful woman. But she got what she wanted in the end!"

"You killing Seiji?" Namie snapped.

"The truth," Izaya corrected and Namie scowled. "And Dota-chin, well, Dota-chin died valiantly. Honestly, Dota-chin, you were too good of a guy. You were able to get out before everything really turned awful."

Kadota stared at him incredulously before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. It appeared that he knew better than to argue him.

"And Shinra! Shinra, you were just reckless and stupid, examining that zombie. However, aren't you glad to know that Celty was that distressed over you?"

Shinra smiled just as nicely.

"I'm not you, Izaya."

"And Celty's left this world—honestly, it would've been nice if she took me with her—and Chikage found his own peace by sacrificing himself! Kasuka died with hope and his brother as his last thought, though, what good did that do him? The Awakusu-Kai, well, I wonder how they're doing… probably not well. And everyone else we had seen… people keep dying, and yet those who remain try so hard to keep living. Why is that? What point is there? Is civilization really supposed to come back from this? How? Tokyo is decimated. The country is ravaged. We've got no idea what's going on overseas, but probably nothing good. Are we supposed to procreate? How are we going to replace all the lost lives, replenish our food sources? No matter how you think about it, we're doomed. What, did you expect a happy ending? Please. This is a post-apocalyptic world. There are no happy endings."

Izaya stopped to catch his breath, breathing in, shoulders drawing back. He leaned back on the couch and draped his arms over the back as he exhaled slowly, using one hand to gesture towards the four around the room.

"So, really, all of you are lucky. It is unfortunate you're all dead but you were able to leave before realizing just how hopeless the world was. You all died still believing for something better."

Holding his smile, Izaya looked over his shoulder to Shizuo.

"You may throw things now, Shizu-chan."

And for a moment, it was deathly silent. Namie looked bored. Kadota looked exasperated. Shinra looked amused.

Shizuo looked infuriated.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Izaya?!" he roared and Izaya just sighed. He stood and kicked the coffee table over, leaving Izaya to marvel at how that could be so real, so loud to him, but his neighbors would've heard nothing. "Lucky?! You're still goin' on about how we're lucky to be dead? How fucked up in the head are you right now?!"

Izaya tilted his head.

"Well, I'm certainly not at my best."

"We're not lucky," Shizuo snarled, grabbing Izaya by his shirt and shoving him against a wall, "so don't you dare say that, you miserable bastard. We're dead. We're fucking dead. And you, you're alive. Stop taking that shit for granted. Yeah, the world's fucked. Can it come back from this? Maybe not. But you don't just stand here and think that. You keep trying. Until the goddamn end, you try with everything you've got. Wasn't that what you were preaching? You're going to give up now just because you fuckin' killed everyone who was with you?"

Shizuo's glower lingered; his hand shook with rage and Izaya knew to expect his shirt to be a bit stretched out from this. He let go eventually and Izaya landed gracefully on his feet, straightening his shirt, expression remaining impressively impassive.

"You don't get to call us lucky," Shizuo repeated in a low voice. "You don't get to play the victim. You don't get to lie to yourself anymore. You've got a guilty as fuck conscience for a reason, Izaya. All of us know how you really feel and, you know what? It's time to stop lying to yourself. We're dead. We're hallucinations. You can lie to us, but you can't lie to yourself.

"You're human. Of course you're scared. Of course you've got weaknesses. That's part of being human. There's nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is how you keep pretending you're fine. All of this has fucked everyone up, including you. Admit it.

"Like I said, I'm not mad that you killed me. What I'm mad about is the way you're dealing with it. Stop running away from your problems. Grow the fuck up."

Shizuo's chest was rising and falling and Izaya found himself watching it, stared at the way his Adam's apple moved with his breathing. He didn't need to breathe and yet it appeared he was; these hallucinations were simply fascinating, he thought. Izaya understood hallucinations; they were a result of abnormal activities in the brain, but actually experiencing them was different altogether. He was intrigued.

He eventually tore his eyes away from Shizuo's chest and leveled their gazes.

The other three were still there, quietly watching them, but Izaya didn't pay them any mind. All that mattered right now was Shizuo and the way he was glaring at him, that hatred that was so intense that it was hard to believe his own mind could create that.

(But, then again, nobody hated him more than himself.)

The problem with Shizuo was that he seemed to have a knack for saying the exact things Izaya didn't like to hear. Real Shizuo also had that tendency; he almost seemed to find the nail and was ready to hit it on its head, even if he didn't know that it would strike a sensitive spot. They were opposites; they always had been, despite a few concurrent similarities. Izaya avoided things. Shizuo faced them head on. It angered Shizuo and unsettled Izaya.

The additional problem with hallucination Shizuo was that these nails were much more personal and the things that without Shizuo's annoying bluntness, would have probably never seen the light of day.

He blinked. Clapping his hands together, Izaya stood and breezily sauntered past Shizuo, ignored his jolt.

"So! Let's prepare dinner!"

january 1, 1:07 a.m.

"It's a brand new year!"

"Mhm."

"It's a whole other year!"

"Yeah."

"It's a—"

"For fuck's sake, Izaya!"

"That's not very in the holiday spirit, Shizu-chan…"

Izaya wrinkled his nose. He was wearing an ugly sweater; it wasn't Christmas, but he decided that something festive was needed. He hadn't expected the hallucinations to change clothes and joked that Namie was fine, that she was in red and green all year.

But then he woke up this morning and she was wearing a black skirt and dark red sweater, leaving Izaya to wonder why he was projecting his middle school uniform color scheme onto the most vile woman in the world.

Kadota was in his normal clothes. Shinra was wearing something atrocious, and Shizuo was in sweats. He'd seen Shizuo in sweats before. He'd obviously seen Kadota in his normal clothes, but not that horrendous thing Shinra was wearing. Izaya congratulated himself on his creativity.

He had gone out earlier that week and found hot chocolate powder. Mixing it with milk, he made five mugs and handed them out. Namie looked disgusted. Shizuo looked annoyed to be not annoyed. Kadota nodded. Shinra just started drinking.

It wasn't exactly the most festive of new years, but it was one of his more lively ones; Izaya was quite pleased he wasn't by himself (sometimes with Namie for company) to usher in the new year. Standing by the window and looking out, he watched Shizuo and Namie play chess by the window, Kadota watching over. Shinra joined him; his mug was already empty and Izaya silently poured him some more.

Was he pouring it straight onto the carpet?

"Hey, Izaya. Let's bet you'll survive this year," Shinra beamed.

Izaya laughed.

"Come now, Shinra. You know I only bet when I win."

february 26, 4:15 p.m.

The thing about Shizuo that differed from the other three was that he argued.

Namie would ignore him if she could. Kadota could provide decent conversation. And Shinra would gush about Celty, though he'd usually silence and disappear if Izaya brought up that she was gone.

And it did make him feel guilty to be the reason why his only friend was sad, so Izaya only did that if absolutely necessary.

But Shizuo.

Shizuo argued.

"You can't keep surroundin' yourself with broken people to make yourself feel whole!"

Eyes narrowing, Izaya huffed quietly. He remembered those words from Namie; he remembered them clearly and they still annoyed him. Crossing his arms gracefully, Izaya leaned against the wall. He crossed a foot over his ankle and then he undid the movement; he moved much more than he normally did to hide the fidgeting that Hallucination Shizuo surely wouldn't notice (unless, of course, Izaya's subconscious wanted him to.)

"So Shizu-chan's calling himself broken? My my… looks like those self esteem issues still have to be worked on."

"At least I can be honest with myself," he growled, striding towards him. Izaya remained smirking as Shizuo's hand grabbed him by his collar, forced him to stand up straight. "But you… just keep lyin' to yourself and everyone. And there's one thing that's been bothering me…"

"Oh? What is it? I'll try my best to help Shizu-chan achieve some peace even after his death."

Izaya expected more yelling. He expected even Shizuo to punch him, but when Shizuo just pulled back a bit, his grip loosening, it served as an irksome reminder that Shizuo never did what Izaya expected him to. Watching him a bit suspiciously, he gracefully flattened his feet against the floor as Shizuo just stared.

"…Why did you never try to fix me?"

The question caught Izaya off guard, despite it technically coming from himself. His eyes widened and he couldn't move for a few moments, just stared. But then he started laughing; his lips curled as his body shook, a sound that was a little too loud and had his body trembling a little too hard.

Shizuo kept staring.

"Why did I never try to fix Shizu-chan?" he echoed, shrugging once he stopped. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "Maybe I never thought Shizu-chan as actually broken. Just different."

Izaya pushed his bangs back from his face, stared out the window with that same smile, a little too wide, a little too crazed.

"After all, Shizu-chan's everything I'm not."

march 17, 10:33 a.m.

Izaya threw up that morning, so he should've known it would be a terrible day.

Namie silently handed him a napkin and stepped back after he accepted it. Izaya laughed quietly, hunched over the toilet with an arm following the curve of the seat. The other reached up and flushed, the act itself looking as if it took great difficulty, and he gave a weak cough. "You're kinder as a hallucination."

His body still felt like it was on fire when he stumbled out of the bathroom. His stomach twisted and turned; the past few days passed by in a blur. Izaya's sleep schedule was officially destroyed; he went days where he slept hours and hours, but then there were days where he didn't sleep at all. Regardless, he slept lightly. Even on days where he spent all day in bed, he'd jerk at the slightest sound and just doze off again after a bit.

Needless to say, Izaya was already over the edge but he was Izaya, so he was, in normal people's terms, on the edge.

"It's your subconscious. You didn't kill me yourself and so you think that I would be less angry."

"You needn't narrate that, Namie-san."

"I do."

Lingering by the wall to wait for the hot flash and dancing spots to pass, Izaya continued on to the kitchen afterwards to start preparing breakfast for himself. After twenty minutes, a bowl of rice and egg and black coffee were his final products, one of which was taken to the coffee table. Kadota looked up and frowned disapprovingly. "Izaya, now you're just wasting food."

"Who says I won't eat it later?"

Taking his first gulp, Izaya sighed contently and set the mug back down. Someone sat next to him, weight distributing unevenly between the two spots. Namie was at the other end of the couch, Shinra was admiring his tools, and Kadota was going through Izaya's collection of books. That left…

"Would you like some breakfast, Shizu-chan?" Izaya asked airily.

He could see Shizuo staring at him from the corner of his eye and huffed. "Now, don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Like that," Izaya explained, though his voice was a bit strained. "Like you can't handle a joke. Trust me, Shizu-chan, I know you can't eat."

Shizuo was quiet.

"Because you're dead," Izaya clarified.

"I didn't say anything," he shrugged. "Offer it to Shinra or Kadota. Or Namie."

"See, it's not the same. Because, as Shizu-chan is thinking, Kadota asked for it. And I certainly don't mean breakfast, in case Shizu-chan's single-celled brain can't keep up. Shinra was already turned. And Namie-san only used the gun I left her. As Shizu-chan would say, that's why Shizu-chan is special. Why he always has been. Special people meet special ends."

Izaya wasn't trying to tease, it just came out that way and he prepared himself for an outraged yell. But, as always, Shizuo surprised him; when he looked over to question the silence, he found Shizuo just staring blankly at him. Izaya stared back just as blankly.

"Yes?"

"…Huh," Shizuo commented. "You called me a person."

Izaya's chest seized for just a moment. His body froze; he felt his skin prickling lightly and something burn the base of his throat. Slamming the book shut, he stared at his coffee first, teeth biting down on his lip. Izaya could vaguely hear Kadota bustling around, the clinking of Shinra putting his things away, and hear Namie breathing.

She probably breathed loudly to annoy him.

"Namie, you're breathing right? I can barely hear it."

"Not everyone's like you, Shinra."

Izaya could hear birds and he wondered why they had to make that stupid noise.

His skin prickled.

"Look, Izaya," Shizuo sighed, clearly perturbed by Izaya's response. "I'm not—"

"I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry," Izaya snapped. Everything fell silent; Izaya heard a ticking and disregarded the fact that he didn't have a clock that loud. He just closed his eyes and counted along with the sound; he relaxed but the smirk on his lips seemed to indicate otherwise, the malicious grin widening.

"For, as Shizu-chan can't seem to stop reminding me, killing him! Because apparently I was supposed to sacrifice myself for you, right?! You've got to be kidding me! When I found you, you were on the brink of giving up! You're going to tell me that between the two of us, if only one had to live, it should have been you? Why, because you're kinder? That's what decides who lives in this post-apocalypse shitshow of a world?! Being kind?! Please!

"You wouldn't have lasted a month without me and we both know that! You would've gone into shock after realizing what you did! You think you would've been able to pull yourself together enough to find this place? You're not a killer, Shizu-chan! You're not strong enough to be one! You can't handle the repercussions; that's why I've been doing this the entire time! Not because it's convenient or because I like it, but because between us, I'm the one who's more capable of dealing with the consequences! You're weak," he spat. "You're weak and disgusting."

Maybe he should've eaten his rice. Izaya wasn't very friendly when he was hungry, dehydrated, or hallucinating, much less all at once.

Panting when he broke off, Izaya hunched his shoulders as he kept glaring at Shizuo. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears as he straightened, cleared his throat and crossed his arms. He tried to regain some dignity from losing his cool. Clearing his throat, he straightened invisible wrinkles from his clothes as best he could while still sitting.

It was hard, though, when he heard 'whatever makes you feel better' and was ready to test if Shizuo could be hit. He just took another deep sigh and counted backwards.

He lost track and found himself having to start over before realizing he didn't know what his starting point was. So he chose random numbers, counted backwards at a rhythm to match his heartbeat and when it took longer to get from ten to five than it did from fifty to forty, he knew it was working.

Izaya didn't know how long passed before he heard Shizuo again:

"Are you done?"

"I suppose I am," Izaya said airily.

"Then it's my turn," Shizuo murmured and Izaya clicked his tongue, wrinkling his nose a bit. "It was never about one of us surviving. That's not why I'm here and you know that. It's about the fact that you didn't have to—"

"I did."

"You could've tried—"

"The angle made it impossible. If I aimed at your shoulder, the bullet wouldn't have exited without puncturing your heart. I couldn't reach any other part of you and it was either your head or neck. And in case you forgot, you were sort of strangling me and I was running quite low on air."

Izaya was incredibly aware that he was rambling. Shizuo usually rambled; even this Shizuo, the Shizuo who was a figment of Izaya's imagination, was the one who rambled while Izaya listened. But things were different now; Izaya kept talking and Shizuo was quiet, spoke only when necessary, only what he had to.

Izaya knew exactly why he was rambling and dreaded Shizuo saying it:

"You've never dealt with the guilt."

"There's no guilt to—"

"You don't get why you feel this way. You buried me. You apologized. You thought that would be enough. You don't get why it's not."

"I don't feel any—"

"You're in love with me, aren't you?"

Hallucination Shizuo was a bad kind of different. Shizuo was blunt and honest, but he wasn't tactless and he certainly wasn't this perceptive. He was perceptive in a different way, but something like this required a certain level of self-confidence that Heiwajima Shizuo just didn't have. Heiwajima Shizuo would've never accused someone of being in love with him with his self esteem; only Hallucination Shizuo, who had access to the parts of Izaya's mind even he himself avoided, would know that.

Of course, that didn't mean it was right, Izaya thought stubbornly.

Izaya closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose slowly.

The human perception of love was something that had been contested over and over again. Media was obsessed with it; there was some sort of a stigma associated with being single, one that Izaya had found interesting. All sorts of people came to him for his services; on more than one occasion had there been a vengeful ex-lover or a suspicious spouse asking for information.

Love, from what he learned through observation and consumption of media, was a deep emotional attachment to someone, something that many people, for some reason, prioritized over friendship. It wasn't always positive; Shinra's love for Celty, for example. Namie's love for Seiji. Saika's love for humans. There were many kinds of love.

He dug his nails into his palms and swallowed. Izaya's eyes closed; his brow knit for a moment as he tried to reassure himself that he wasn't in love with Shizuo. He didn't even love him and Izaya loved everyone.

Shizuo was special.

Shizuo stood out from everyone else.

Shizuo had always been different. Izaya had isolated him; he'd deemed him as a monster and separated him from his beloved society. He loved everyone else. He didn't love Shizuo.

I don't love Shizu-chan, he thought briskly. I don't because the opposite of love is hate-

Something in his chest lurched.

Except it's not.

Because the opposite of love wasn't hate; the opposite of love and hate was apathy. What Izaya felt for Shizuo was anything but apathetic. Everything regarding Shizuo elicited a strong reaction from him; for someone who was so driven to one goal, Izaya would discard his plans in favor of Shizuo. Shizuo was the only one he'd seek out for a head on fight; he hated Shizuo, he'd said for years, but hating someone was another way of being passionate about their existence.

It was like someone dumped cold water over him.

Love wasn't always about support and happiness. Love was selfish. Love was twisted. Love was awful; love could be a terrible thing to feel for someone, that intrinsic bond.

Namie, who said he was in love with Shizuo, carried a twisted, incestuous love for her little brother.

Shinra, who hinted he was in love with Shizuo, harbored a selfish, all-encompassing love for Celty.

Those two people, Izaya realized, would know better than anyone else.

He felt sick.

"That's why you can't stop feeling guilty," Shizuo said quietly. "Because you couldn't admit that to yourself. And because you couldn't admit that, you'll never know if I was able to feel the same way. Or if I did."

Izaya's breath stopped but he didn't allow it to show, looked away and dug his nails into the fabric he was sitting on. He took a deep breath but it seemed his lungs didn't have that capacity and he ended up with a choked gasp, flinching as the back of one hand pressed to his lips.

Orihara Izaya wasn't one to misconstrue kindness as love, no matter how (and if, he might add) he was lonely. He knew Shizuo's kindness was out of necessity to stay alive. His attentiveness and his forgiveness were all because they were partners.

Shizuo didn't feel anything besides hatred towards him.

"Shizu-chan, we both know you didn't," he said quietly.

Shizuo didn't even blink whereas Izaya couldn't even look in his general direction.

You didn't refute, he knew Shizuo was thinking.

(What Izaya himself was thinking, actually.)

Yeah. So? he tried to challenge but challenging himself in this way was never fun.

"But I could've. Because if you did, who was to say I couldn't? You don't always know how someone feels; you might know what they're going to do, but actions and emotions are two entirely different things and while you're good at predicting what someone will do, what they're thinking is unknown territory. Especially me, right? You decided I was a monster because you didn't know what I would do. You never did; I always went against what you expected. If you couldn't figure that out, how can you say you know for certain how I feel? How I felt, I mean. We could've been something. We could've been one in a million.

"I'm not angry at you. I'm not. What you did was self-defense, but the reason you can't let go is because you're stuck in this limbo until I forgive you. Because that's what happens when you wrong someone you care about. It's what happens when you form a genuine relationship; that's what you were afraid of all this time, right? Opening yourself up? Trusting someone?

"That's why you feel guilty."

Izaya wasn't someone who cared about forgiveness, but his natural response to scoff every time Shizuo made a claim about his guilt ridden conscience was slowly lessening. The real Shizuo had always been spouting things and Izaya never answered; he'd believed that they had only ever affected him shallowly, if at all, but the thing about Izaya was everything was shallow until it wasn't.

Nothing mattered until it became everything and then everything would matter and drown him alive.

"What," he muttered, raising and tilting his head back a bit to look at him condescendingly, "you think I'm in love with you? I have an undying passion for you? I want to be with you always?"

"Love isn't always like that and you'd know it," Shizuo answered. "Look at you and humans. Namie and Seiji. Shinra and Celty. Haruna and Nasujima. The city's full of twisted love; you think what you feel for me-"

"You sure are confident about me feeling anything besides hatred-"

"Feeling hatred is still feeling something."

Izaya didn't respond to that.

He couldn't. He swore the words were in the back of his throat but apparently the distance between there and the tip of his tongue was immense, more than enough for them to get permanently lost and never voiced. Swallowing, he could feel his resolve disappearing as well and just clenched his hands.

"Hate is just the other end of the spectrum," Shizuo continued. "It's a form of passion. There's more than one kind of love and you know it, Izaya."

Izaya said nothing. He reached behind the couch to tease out a magazine he'd left lying around. Or maybe Shizuo did; he didn't even know. Maybe the magazine wasn't even there. Izaya's mental state wasn't really to be trusted right now, but calling someone over to ask if there was really a magazine on that particular cushion seemed excessive.

Maybe his neighbor didn't even exist.

Setting the possibly-not-real magazine on the table, Izaya sighed. He leaned forward until his elbows were able to rest on his knees, bringing the heels of his hands to his forehead. He exhaled a sigh that moved his entire body, left a dip between his sharp shoulder blades. He didn't hear anything but there was no doubt in his mind that Shizuo was still there, just sitting, just staring, just observing.

Just there, but not there.

"Izaya, you want to know something?"

Izaya became acutely aware that not only were the others silent, they were gone.

Izaya dropped his arms, looked up with a challenging gaze. "Try me."

"I think I could've felt the same way."

Three seconds passed. Then five, then ten. Then thirty before Izaya looked over, his smile wry and eyes half lidded.

"Weren't you the one going on and on about how everything you say is what I think?"

"You knew me better than anyone," Shizuo said and Izaya's smile fell.

"That could actually have been an unbiased observation you made about me, Izaya."

april 23, 9:41 a.m.

Izaya hated this day.

It didn't matter how many he had survived or how many more he'd have; April 23rd was a date etched in his memory with the most awful of connotations.

Izaya hated this day.

"It's raining."

"An acute observation, Shinra."

Leaning against the wall as he peered through the blinds, Izaya watched the rain hit the ground and roofs of nearby buildings. He'd switch from watching the raindrops to not seeing them, a special sort of game of perspective. He watched the droplets chase each other on his window, watch them merge and become one huge one, entirely losing their independence.

He started feeling bad for them and clicked his tongue when he caught himself.

Orihara Izaya doesn't feel bad for raindrops.

It was quiet in the apartment. Even Shinra's words sounded like they was echoing and when he refocused his eyes to see the reflection of the window, he could tell he was alone in that room. His bedroom door was ajar and so he could glimpse into the living room, but nobody walked by. No footsteps. No pages flipping. Nothing.

Izaya would've thought that he was alone but he knew better than that.

He was never really alone anymore.

Everything that had happened in the past couple of years had become a blur and yet was staunchly entrenched in his memory. Days and nights blurred together; there would be times where Izaya couldn't even remember time passing, but certain events were crystal clear.

People dying.

People being killed.

People being killed by him.

Seiji's death. Kasuka's death. Kadota's death. Chikage's self sacrifice. Shinra's death. Namie's death.

Shizuo's unwilling, untimely, unprecedented death.

When Izaya looked down at his hands, sometimes he swore he could still see the blood, feel it warm on his face. Izaya wasn't one to beg; he was one to make others beg and delight in that raw, human desperation. But even when pointing the shaking gun to Shizuo's head, he clearly remembered repeating please don't make me do this, please don't make me do this, please don't make me do this in his head over and over again as his vision began blurring and suffocation began catching up to him.

How the gun went off and part of Izaya was amazed it did.

How the last time Izaya had seen his face, Shizuo had been delirious and angry. Shizuo had thought things were how they used to be and a part of Izaya was ridiculously jealous because he was trapped on this island in this world; he'd give anything to go back to their stupid chases around Ikebukuro. Shizuo was delusional, but Izaya wished he could have that delusion.

He'd go back to having Shizuo alive, even if it meant he hated him.

"How does it feel?"

Izaya just sighed at the voice. Letting the blinds fall back to hang naturally, he turned around and smirked. All their voices had an effect on him at first; it would make him jump until he was used to their presence. Any of them could scream and Izaya would just sigh, but Shizuo's was the exception; even now, that low, gruff voice could easily make him flinch.

"How does what feel?" he returned.

"To be trapped in your own mind."

And then he was aware of Shinra, Kadota, and Namie in the room, one sitting on the bed, one leaning against the wall, one by the dresser. He looked over, lingered his gaze on each of them. Namie was examining her nails, Kadota was staring at the ceiling, Shinra was humming, and Shizuo was just watching him.

Izaya smiled.

"Well, Shinra did always say I needed more friends."

may 4, 12:53 a.m.

Izaya asked a question:

"How did you know you were ready to die?"

"You took away my hope."

"I didn't want to turn."

"Everything else failed."

"I didn't."

Izaya hummed and nodded, looked up again when he heard Shinra call his name.

He beamed.

"Happy birthday, by the way."

may 19, 1:42 p.m.

Kadota was watching him, leaning against the wall by the balcony. He had his arms crossed over his chest and one ankle over the other. He looked relaxed; Izaya remembered that he used to push gently at Kadota when he stood like that and enjoy watching him stumble and try to catch himself. That was a long time ago, but it seemed his default standing position had never changed.

Izaya hummed and decided to appear extra pretty.

He even took a napkin to wipe the bit of coffee threatening to drip down the side of his mug after taking a sip. Placing it down carefully on the coaster, Izaya cleared his throat; he leaned back into the cushion and tried his best to adjust his position to get more comfortable. He folded an ankle over the opposite knee languidly and exhaled slowly.

"Izaya."

"Like what you see?" he purred.

"You need to leave the apartment."

"And why is that? I've got more than enough food—"

"—because you haven't been eating it—"

"—I get fresh air by opening the windows, I have you four as company—"

"—we're hallucinations. You're talking to yourself. We're not here—"

"—now now, Dota-chin, you've always had an issue with this sort of thing, haven't you?"

"Damnit, Izaya, you're going to die at this rate!"

And that was when Izaya looked over, pronounced tendons in his neck straining with the movement. Kadota's eyes narrowed as Izaya's lips curled slowly into a smirk.

"Dota-chin, do you really think I'd just let myself waste away? What an unsatisfactory death."

He waved his hand.

"Don't worry about me, Dota-chin! I'm fine, just fine. In fact…"

He paused and looked over, let his neck relax and head loll back as he smiled. "I'm better than fine! See, Dota-chin, I can say this to you because you're already dead. People really value being alive nowadays and it's certainly understandable. But, considering how I was before all this…"

He craned his neck, widened his eyes, watched the way Kadota's brow furrowed.

"I really wonder what I was scared of after all. So, really, I'm fine, Dota-chin, just fine."

Kadota didn't say anything for the rest of the day.

june 27, 3:21 a.m.

"Namie-san, tell me something."

"No."

Looking over, Izaya watched a strand of Namie's hair fall over her face. He was lying on his bed when she'd decided to join him, though there was more than a respectable bit of space between their bodies. She was lying on her side facing him with eyes closed and her knees a bit bent, one hand under the pillow and the other so close to her mouth that her lips occasionally pressed to it with an extra deep breath.

She wasn't asleep, though.

"Why do you even bother sleeping?"

"To entertain the fantasy that I'm still alive," she muttered and Izaya appreciated that death hadn't lessened her sarcasm.

She opened her eyes.

"That's what you wanted to ask?" she mumbled, sounding annoyed.

"No," he said after a moment and went back to staring at the ceiling. "Namie-san, the one thing I regret about your death is not knowing how you really felt about Seiji's death."

"…That's the only thing you regret about my death?" she asked incredulously and Izaya smirked. He loved that tightness in her voice; it delighted him.

"So," he continued easily, "tell me. How do you feel? Were you glad you knew?"

Yagiri Namie was one of his beloved humans and what made her stand out at times was her lack of predictability. Izaya enjoyed it; sometimes his plans would go askew because of it, but he was always looking forward to his predictions being wrong. She was complicated, this woman, and having her as his secretary provided a bounty of fun.

Also, she was a good cook and a decent chess player.

She was special, but not so special that she was like Shizuo. Izaya could generally predict her reaction to things, but whether or not she was relieved in the end to find out the fate of her little brother could easily go both ways.

She could be glad to know the truth and have closure.

She could also be distraught to have lost that hope. She could have died thinking he was out there and alive and fine. From what Izaya's observed, people in love generally care more about the other's happiness than their own. Yagiri Namie was likely willing to live a life of suffering if that could ensure Seiji's.

Izaya took away that hope, handed her the truth and let her take her own life because of it.

It didn't make him feel very good, honestly.

"Actually," he says, eyes wide and voice a bit more animated, "it's likely the latter; after all, you did take your own life. How could I forget? That was rather stupid of me.

"Mm… but, then again, that may have been just one moment. The human process of grieving can be quite complex despite being simple… though, Namie-san, you've never exactly been quite typical. Perhaps you would've stayed in anger? Or, maybe, if you hadn't ended your life, you would've moved onto acceptance. After all, that's what you told Shizu-chan, no? That you wanted to know, no matter what?

"But, did you really? After all… look at you now. You're dead, buried, and my imagination is the only place where a remnant of you exists. That's sad, isn't it?"

Hallucination Namie seemed more patient than real Namie because after that speech, she just sighed. Of all the reactions to have, she just seemed to be annoyed that she was being kept from her faux nap for this.

"Anything I say is going to be what your subconscious is thinking," Namie stated and closed her eyes; Izaya was a little annoyed that she didn't get angry. "I'm not entertaining that. Any chance you had of knowing is six feet under and rotting."

"Ah. So you do admit that you'd rot. Imagine how Seiji would feel. Perhaps he'd find it attractive and matching to his zombie state?"

Namie's eyes opened again and she glared. Izaya smirked in satisfaction but he fell silent again, another sigh causing his chest to almost concave. She reached a hand out and Izaya marveled at how real her touch against him was.

"You'll die if you don't eat," she said quietly.

Izaya raised an eyebrow, looking over. "I suppose this, then, is the human instinct to survive, manifesting itself in what you just said. After all, Namie-san, you could care less if I were to drop dead, especially now. Or, maybe, you want to keep me alive so this last piece of you will as well?"

"Oh, please."

Namie scoffed and turned onto her other side.

"Like you wouldn't be the same, Izaya."

july 21, 5:41 a.m.

Kishitani Shinra was the only person who Izaya had ever come to close to calling a friend and, really, he was the worst there was.

It wasn't that he was a little selfish. It was that he was a lot selfish; of all the people in Ikebukuro, all the people with kind, giving hearts, Izaya chose the one person who was so entirely absorbed with one individual that he'd do anything, anything to keep her by him, no matter who it hurt, even if it was her.

Naturally, Izaya selected this person.

"You think Celty's coming back?"

Izaya looked up very slowly.

"No."

Shinra frowned. Izaya was lying on the ground, a pillow under his head and arm tucked under for extra support as he read. One foot was flat on the floor for a propped knee and the other ankle folded over it. He balanced the book on his chest, alternating between that and holding it over his face depending on the elevation of his head.

It was a nice hour to be awake. Izaya liked it because very few other people were, especially in this quaint, immature community. It was silent. He felt alone. It felt reminiscent of those nights he'd spent traveling, when that stupid old RV had been his entire world, his home. Everything felt vast and empty. He felt liberated. Even the other three hallucinations were sleeping, so it was just Izaya and Shinra.

"I bet I could get her to come back," Shinra said suddenly, perking up.

Izaya sighed tiredly. "No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not real," he stated. Shinra stared at him for a moment; he didn't look upset, but Izaya couldn't quite figure out what he looked, if not that. It bothered him he couldn't find out, so he decided to go back to reading.

"You know, Izaya," Shinra said, holding his chin with his thumb and forefinger, "…the problem most people have with hallucinations is that they think they're real. They don't realize they're not. Because we seem real, right? We're here. We talk. We interact. And for the first few months, you couldn't touch us, but I now hand you things. But with you, that was never a problem. You just accepted that we were real."

He tilted his head.

"I never thought you'd embrace your mental deterioration so gracefully."

"You underestimate me, Shinra," Izaya drawled.

Shinra was a terrible friend, but that didn't mean he didn't pay Izaya any attention at all. In fact, that was part of why he was a terrible friend. He knew things about Izaya from acute observation and growing up with him and found the worst times to say them. Izaya could sense this was about to be one of those times because Shinra was staring, sharp eyes focused on him.

"Izaya, you know what I realized?"

"I don't really care."

"Shizuo was the first one who could touch you. Who you could touch," he said slowly. "…For a long time, it was only him. And he's also the only one who's always been here. Most people try to suppress the hallucinations, but you… it's not a matter of accepting, right? It's a matter of…"

Shinra had always had this annoying, annoying habit of pausing at crucial moments. He'd been like that since he was young; Izaya remembered in middle school when Shinra would learn something juicy and spend ten minutes vaguely gloating about it before caving and telling Izaya in twenty seconds. Izaya never appreciated it.

He was really irritated that his subconscious kept this little quirk.

"…Not dying alone."

Izaya looked down at his book but he couldn't focus on anything; half of the words seemed to be moving and the other half remained blurry, despite his twenty twenty vision. Izaya's hand was shaking; the page trembled, corner held between his index finger and thumb, and so he pulled back. Swallowing, he reached for a glass of water in front of him and took a slow, deep sip.

"Don't be silly, Shinra," Izaya said a little too quietly a little too late, and shut his book.

"We all die alone."

august 23, 9:02 p.m.

"Here."

Orihara Izaya set down his fully loaded gun in front of Heiwajima Shizuo on the couch.

"Kill me."

The other three said nothing. Shizuo stared down, blinked, looked up at him, blinked again. "…No."

"You will because you're a projection of my subconscious and you'll do what I want you to," Izaya declared, moving to sit across from Shizuo. His body ached; Orihara Izaya had officially become a recluse these past few months. He'd used to at least go out once in a while for a walk and groceries, but with him barely eating, there was little reason for him to step outside anymore.

The neighbors he'd become acquaintances with noticed his disappearance but none of them were close enough to be proactive about it. Izaya's interactions with them had been brief, usually on the way home or out. He'd stop and chat with them for a bit; every once in a while, he'd say something to Shizuo or Kadota (the other two didn't like to go grocery shopping) and the neighbors would look startled.

That was usually when the conversation cut off and they'd hurry away.

Izaya didn't mind. They were boring; everyone on this island who was still alive absolutely disgusted him and having to play house with them made him feel ill.

Izaya loved humans, but these weren't humans. They were dolls. They were sheltered dolls, safeguarded from true desperation and survival instincts.

Boring.

"Shizu-chan, I don't like leaving things unresolved," Izaya said and nodded. "As a result, I've decided to allow you to kill me."

Shizuo didn't say anything at first and Izaya had expected that, so he just leaned back in the couch and waited patiently. This wasn't something spontaneous. This was something he'd thought about time and time again, weighed the pros of being alive and decided if they outnumbered the cons. While hallucinating the people whom he had interacted with the most was certainly great, Izaya, in the end, decided to consider the future.

He was just being proactive. Izaya liked waiting around for the demise of other people, but not of the world and himself. He was done; it was that short and simple. Why he waited until August didn't matter. He'd known he was done a while ago and he'd just waited for everything to resolve before he felt he could depart peacefully.

Anything that was unresolved, he thought, had lost its chance.

Izaya was done and he was going to allow Heiwajima Shizuo the pleasure of ending it all for him.

"You're a coward, Izaya."

"Shut up, Shinra."

"…You know that I don't care about us being even," Shizuo finally said in a quiet voice. "That even if I were actually Shizuo, that's not what this is about. I don't believe in an eye for an eye, especially when it comes to violence. Especially when it comes to death."

Izaya nodded again.

"And you know that this doesn't make me feel any better because I don't have a conscience anymore. This doesn't even ease your conscience. It ends it."

Izaya looked at him with half lidded eyes. "Shizu-chan, I know you. You're angry at me for killing—"

"No, I'm not. I'm not angry about that. I'm angry at the fact that you won't allow yourself to admit that you feel guilty, that you have feelings, and that you wonder if there had been another way—"

"There hadn't," Izaya waved a hand. "I'd gone through all the possibilities—"

"You were lightheaded because I was suffocating you—"

"Exactly," Izaya interjected a bit shortly, "which is why I did what I did. It wouldn't do for both of us to die. You would kill me, wake up and realize what you did, panic and more likely than not waste away because of the guilt. At least this way, one of us survived."

Shizuo didn't say anything at first. He just stared at Izaya from across the table. His hair was pure blond, Izaya noticed and raised an eyebrow carefully. During the time they'd been together, it had grown out, his dark roots showing and creating an ombre effect. Izaya had given him a haircut at one point so that he wouldn't have to keep putting it up, but that just resulted in it being more or less his original hair color.

It was both strange and settling to see Shizuo with his blond hair.

How out of it was he if he hadn't realized that earlier?

"Shizu-chan, in what way did you think dying your brown hair blond would help you to not stand out in Japan?"

Shizuo didn't answer that.

Izaya looked around the room for what he assumed might be the last time. He'd spent most of his life avoiding death while teasing it; it left an exhilarating rush every time he narrowly evaded it. He thrived off of that adrenaline; he loved the threat of losing control but jerking it back at the last moment. The control over that loss of control was addicting and Izaya was proud that he'd still never lost. But now, he realized, now it was over.

It had been over a long time ago, actually.

There was no point in immortality if there wasn't a world and his one chance at eternity was gone. Most of the people Izaya had known and worked with were gone; he'd seen too many corpses that had once been animated, too many familiar faces now with sunken cheeks.

He was remarkably calm about this, actually.

The bliss of apathy.

"You don't want to die," Shizuo started. "You don't, but it's time for you to because you have nothing left. You have no one left. You're running out of ways to ignore the guilt and fear. You're running out of excuses and you refuse to confront anything, like the goddamn coward you are, so you're taking this way out. I don't know if it's fear or pride or what the fuck, but you're not ready to die. Not now. Not like this. What are you afraid of, Izaya? Dying slowly? Rotting away? Deteriorating even more? One day being left with absolutely nothing so you have to admit everything you feel? You don't want to die. Don't fucking kid yourself."

Shizuo's voice brought him out of his trance. Izaya looked over with a distant little smile. "Of course I do. I've gone over—"

"Life isn't about finding every decision and weighing the pros and cons," Shizuo interrupted, voice beginning to sound agitated. "You can't predict everything that's going to happen. You just can't. That's not how things work. You can spend all day thinking, but something will always happen that you didn't expect—isn't that what you used to live for? You'd get all fucking giddy and shit when someone did something that screwed with your goddamn plans. How do you even know the world's ended? What makes you think we can't bounce back from this? Humanity's resilient. That's why we're survived for so long. And this… you don't even know how things outside of the country are. You've been on this island for so long; maybe help's coming but you just don't know it. You're not asking to die because you're done living, Izaya. You're fucking terrified. Listen to your heart. Right now. Listen to it. It's racing, isn't it? You don't want to die. Stop lying and saying you're ready for this because you're not. Hate it and fight it, but you're just as human as the rest of us, you piece of shit."

Shizuo took a breath and when he exhaled, the look on his face left Izaya feeling a bit cold.

His heart was rattling his frail ribcage.

"Stop insulting my memory by lying to my face."

Izaya's arms draped over the back of the couch, his fingers drumming steadily along the material. Shizuo's voice was loud; it was so loud that Izaya wondered if his neighbors heard it before he realized he was just yelling at himself. There was a burning sensation in his chest that he knew wasn't hunger; he'd gone past the point of feeling his stomach wanting to be fed a while ago. He was used to it; coffee was all he really subsisted on, occasionally just enough food to keep him from fainting and never getting up again.

It was hard to eat with no appetite.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Izaya looked to the side. Shizuo's words were echoing in his living room, he thought, and then he actually saw them, the words just floating around. His eyes widened a bit before he squeezed them shut. Digging his nails into his palm, he counted backwards from fifteen before opening them again, relaxing only when words were no longer floating in front of his plain walls.

He smiled. It was automatic; Izaya could smile at any time, at any moment. He had a specific smile for just that purpose:

A smile for the sake of smiling.

"You know, I think we could've been spectacular together."

Izaya's words came out in barely a murmur and when he looked up, his smile turned into a smirk. The curve of his lips never reached his eyes but when he watched Shizuo's brow furrow, the grin widened and he was more than aware he looked crazed. "Imagine it, Shizu-chan!" he began animatedly, one of his palms facing upwards. "You and me, together… not necessarily together but as a team. Imagine everything we could do! Of course, you wouldn't ever approve or partake in what I do, but… if you did, it would be wonderful. Nobody could stop us. What if…"

Izaya blinked before he laughed, loud and short as he threw his head back. His heart was still racing but now the blood rushing through his veins made him feel alive. His ribcage felt like it could shatter at any time still but Izaya ignored that; he felt alive. He'd fallen into some sort of a daze the past few days, just cycling through his existence, succumbing to exactly what he never wanted.

But this?

Now?

Shizuo's words?

He felt like Orihara Izaya again.

Giddy, childish, excited.

"What if has to be the saddest phrase in any language. Because, Shizu-chan," he said and lolled his head forward, "what if? What if we didn't hate each other? What if we didn't spend the majority of our adult lives chasing each other, trying to kill each other? What if we got along? What if we'd never met? What if? There are so many what ifs; do you think we were fated to meet and become enemies? Do you believe in that sort of stuff? Of course you do; you're Shizu-chan!"

His laughter subsided immediately; one moment he was cackling crazily and the next he was calm, a transition that would've unnerved his audience had his audience been real. Things were feeling disconnected. He felt disconnected. Hot, but cold. Happy, but miserable. Rational, but hallucinating. A paradox. A walking, living, sitting, dying paradox.

The only clear thing was that he was excite; Shizuo always excited.

Tilting his head, Izaya stared at Shizuo for a few contemplative seconds.

Or, rather, the physical appearance of Heiwajima looked like him; he looked exactly like Shizuo did, but what had made Shizuo Shizu-chan was his personality and his thought process. Shizuo wasn't Shizu-chan. Izaya, while he knew everything there was to know about him, couldn't actually create another Shizuo.

It was cliche, but everyone was unique.

Shizu-chan was gone.

"Oh, wait. You're not Shizu-chan." He kept staring at him, unblinking eyes wide and head tilting a bit more. He was still again, no longer making grand hand gestures and grinning. "You're just Heiwajima Shizuo. A remnant of who Shizu-chan was. A memory. The real Shizu-chan… the real Shizu-chan is gone and I can never talk to him again, hear him, have him throw something at me. He's gone because of me and no matter what I think, what I say, what I feel, he's staying gone. You may look like him. You, in a way, are him but, at the same time, you're not. Because the real Shizu-chan would keep growing and learning… but you four who stand in front of me, you're… frozen."

His eyes light up. "That's right! Frozen!" he exclaimed as if having made a grand discovery. "Your lives have ended. This is how you were right before that moment. You're not Namie-san, you're not Dota-chin, you're not Shinra. None of you are who you are."

And as he said their names, they began disappearing, fading away one by one. With only Shizuo left, Izaya swallowed and turned back to him.

"…You're not Shizu-chan."

He didn't disappear.

Shizuo remained where he was on the couch, leveling his gaze with Izaya's. Scoffing, Izaya looked away. "A nuisance, as always."

"Yeah," Shizuo mumbled, appearing entirely unbothered by Izaya's rapid changes in moods. He was quiet for a bit and Izaya realized he was actually leaning forward, hanging onto his every word. Shizuo watched as he pushed himself back, curve of his spine meeting the cushion. He took a few more moments to adjust the way he was sitting and it was only after he'd been still for a few seconds that Shizuo finally continued.

"Sorry. No one's left, Izaya. We're not real. None of us are. We're not the same people you knew and we're a pretty shitty consolation. Namie took her life after you killed her brother and neglected to tell her for years. Kadota sacrificed himself and you were the one who ended his suffering, but he was one of the few people who had actually shown you genuine kindness. Shinra? Your only friend. You took your eyes off of him, let your guard down and now he's dead, but after you amputated his arm. And his death drove Celty away, leaving her heartbroken for eternity. And Kasuka, my little brother who you shot while I was holding him, drove a bullet through his head right in front of my face. Your sisters. Chikage. Seiji. Everyone.

"And then me. You killed me out of self-defense so you feel like you don't have to be guilty, but you are and that annoys you, so you insist you don't feel anything. You hate that you're feeling so awful for it, you hate that you can't survive without me, you hate everything but, most of all, you hate that you care enough to hate it. You don't want to feel any of it. But you do and it's been eating you up. You stopped going outside. You spend all your time locked up in your apartment, talking to the versions of us who are now frozen in time. You don't want to meet new people. You don't want to have new people as your playthings because you're tired. You're all alone now and it's your fault. You drove people away. You killed them. You're not God, Izaya, and you're not much of a killer. The physical act of killing and the emotional repercussions are two different things and for someone like you, someone so fragile and afraid of being hurt, that latter is too heavy a burden.

"What we could've been… what we could have had… it drives you crazy to think about that, right? You and I are endless and you hate what because you hate me. But why? Because I'm not human? Because I don't do what you expect me to? Because you've labeled me a monster and yet I'm more capable of developing genuine relationships than you are? Or, because, you think I could've been someone who you could have come to trust? All you had was Shinra and that relationship was clearly one sided. I could've been different. We may not have been in a romantic relationship. Something like that has all sorts of issues that, emotionally, we probably wouldn't be ready for for a long time. But just… a friendship. You think about it all the time. Maybe we could've been friends. Maybe we could've. Your entire life could've been different. It could've been a dream. What we could've had, that peace you could've had, feels like a dream, but it shattered. We shattered. Shattered like a dream."

Izaya hated his heart.

Not the symbolic heart. His actual physical heart. He hated that it would race and pound so furiously in his chest; it was a physical confirmation of what he was hearing. His heart wasn't where he felt; his brain was, but it would cause his heart to thud so hard that he swore his entire body was swaying with it. It kept beating as Shizuo's words echoed in his mind.

He cared.

He didn't want to, but he cared.

Shizuo's death couldn't be written off; no one's could, actually, but Shizuo's especially. That made him special and Izaya didn't want to care; he'd spent the majority of his adult life detaching himself for that precise reason. He didn't want to care, because caring led to hurt. He didn't want any attachments and, yet, the one person he swore he didn't care about ended up being the one he was most attached to.

Izaya swallowed thickly and shuddered from the pain.

"That's quite arrogant of you to say," Izaya mumbled quietly at last, averting his eyes. "What makes you think I would've wanted any of that with you? Honestly, you're so lonely you-"

Shizuo didn't even bat an eye.

"I'm your subconscious. This isn't what Heiwajima Shizuo is saying. This is the person who you wanted all that with saying it. You and Shizuo were both lonely, but Shizuo could overcome that because he could form relationships. You couldn't. So you look at this person whom you deemed a monster and feel ridiculously jealous that he could achieve what you couldn't. You didn't want to be hurt but, you know what? Someone who knows what it's like to be lonely wouldn't hurt you. You saw that in Shizuo. You loved everyone equally; if you think like that, there was only one individual for whom you held stronger feelings. Isn't that what most people think love is? That one person who you're just so emotionally attached to."

Izaya stopped breathing, felt his heart fall straight to the ground.

But Shizuo was finished, because then he said:

"You wonder if I could've fallen in love with you, don't you?"

Izaya felt sick. He physically felt sick and as he leaned forward, there was a moment where he thought he'd throw up. But, he remembered, he hadn't eaten in days; there was nothing to vomit and he started laughing at that. It was quiet at first, just breathy hiccups. But then they grew louder and louder, one hand coming to cover his eyes as he just laughed and laughed and laughed.

It made no sense.

Nothing made sense.

His shoulders were still shaking when he straightened, arms holding his stomach. He wiped at a tear from the corner of his eye, eventually calming down enough. But not even three seconds before he started laughing again, until nothing came out and he was just shaking, trembling as he tried his best to hold himself together in more ways than one.

"Admit it," Shizuo said quietly. "Admit this is for yourself. That asking me to kill you isn't for me. Heiwajima Shizuo is dead and buried. His conscience has ceased a long time ago. This isn't for his forgiveness; he can't forgive you. He wouldn't even have wanted that anyway. This is for your own conscience, to try and clear it because you're so reluctant to admit your guilt. You'd do anything to avoid admitting to it because otherwise you'd have to realize and accept that Shizuo wasn't a monster to you. He mattered more than you want to admit and that appalls you. That's why his death has affected you so much. Not only was he the last one, but he mattered more than anyone else. The hallucinations started after him. You started losing the will to fight after, ironically, killing him to keep yourself alive. And you hate it because after everything you've done to keep people at arm's length, the one person who ends up getting close is your nemesis."

Was this how it felt for others when conversing with Izaya? It certainly wasn't a coincidence the way he got into people's minds; Izaya would purposely do that, gauge their reactions before deciding each carefully crafted sentence. They were subtle enough that, at first glance, it wouldn't seem like anything too out of the ordinary, but personalized so that only the person who was meant to hear it would feel unsettled at being exposed so quickly and simply.

He closed his eyes. First was a brief smile; it disappeared as quickly as it came and Izaya was left to lick his dry lips.

His heart was racing, Shizuo was right. It was pounding in his chest and the lightheadedness he felt wasn't solely from hunger. His palms were sweating. His breathing was shallow. He felt hypersensitive and when he opened his eyes to see the gun on the table between them, he started laughing again.

He was in hysterics. It hurt his ribs and Izaya was gasping for breath, alternating between laughing and trying to fill his lungs with air. He couldn't sit straight; it took everything he had to not fall off the couch as he grasped at his skin and bone, shuddering.

He laughed,

and laughed,

and laughed.

There was no one left except a hallucination of the person he felt the most of any emotion towards and that person was now insinuating that maybe it hadn't been pure hate, that instead of wanting him as far away as possible, Izaya had wanted him closer than anyone else. It was disgusting. It was wretched. But what was most vile of all was that Izaya didn't deny it.

Izaya denied lies because they were lies. That was self explanatory.

And truths were split into two categories:

The ones he could talk himself out of. The ones that had a possibility of being changed so when he was denying them, it wasn't completely lying.

And then the ones he couldn't talk himself out of, the ones ingrained so deeply in who he was, the ones so innate to his existence, the ones that he could try to deny over and over again, but it would be futile because he'd give in in the end.

Shinra brought up their getting along multiple times, saying that if they didn't, they'd always be on the worst terms. Izaya had waved him off over and over again; he and Shizuo just wouldn't get along, he'd explained. It was something innate about their personalities. It was something about fate. They'd meet and hate each other; that's how things were.

"Or," Shinra had piped, "you're terrified that Shizuo will hate you even if you're nice. It's easier to be hated when you've given them a reason, right?"

Izaya had neglected to answer and distracted him with something about Celty, but the what if always remained with him. What if he had tried to get along with Shizuo? Shizuo was likely the type of person where, if in high school, Izaya had extended a truce, he may have accepted it. But it was far too late now; Izaya had done too many things to him to ever warrant any level of forgiveness. He was beyond redemption now and, yet, Shizuo still found it in himself to show him kindness, loyalty, and the partnership.

What if? he'd ask himself sometimes.

Never, he'd answer his own question.

Orihara Izaya lied to many people, himself most of all, but even he had limits.

And that was hilarious.

"You're not Shizu-chan," Izaya said finally, wiping his tears from his eyes. "So it doesn't even matter how I feel, yeah? I killed Shizu-chan. He's gone and I'll never know what he really thought, what he really felt, what he could've felt. What if, am I right? Even if I wanted to apologize. Even if I wanted to profess my guilt. Does it even matter that I care? That I feel this way? That I can't stop thinking about him? That out of everything I've done, that is what keeps me up at night? No matter what I want to do, he's gone."

Izaya grinned.

"Shizu-chan's gone." His voice sounded strange, he thought, but he kept smiling.

"Yeah," Shizuo said and shrugged. "No matter what you do, you can't get him back. He's gone."

Shizuo looked at him.

"And that's really why you can't bear to be alive anymore."

A ton of bricks fell and Izaya didn't even try to move.

He laughed, a light, airy chime of a sound. "I suppose it is… Who would've thought?" he murmured. "All right! Let's try that. I can't live without Shizu-chan," he announced, both palms upwards. "After all this time of wanting to kill Shizu-chan, it turns out that I can't survive without him! Is that it? Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?"

Something burned in his body but, at the same revolting time, his breathing grew easier. Izaya froze; the weight that had been pressing to his chest suddenly felt lessened and his lungs were able to expand to full capacity again. Testing it again with a sigh, he looked up at the ceiling with the same lazy smile. His heart was beating rhythmically and normally; his body felt normal and relaxed, though he could hear Shizuo picking up the gun. It was strange; he knew what was going to happen and its imminence left him feeling a strange euphoria.

He was smiling again, laughing and closing his eyes. "I can't live without him… disgusting," he whispered hoarsely. "After everything, the one person… him, of all the people to attach…

Karma's a real bitch, no?"

He breathed. Orihara Izaya breathed and even though he'd been on this island for more than a year, the air felt fresh, free from the stench of death and zombies. He inhaled and his lungs expanded so much he wondered if his ribs would crack. He closed his eyes.

"It's probably because people have died because of you, but never for you. Figures. There's no one who would be willing to do so anyway."

"I'm just saying I've seen people do more extraordinary things for love than hate."

"Not everyone is at heartless as you are."

"I'm not the one trying to deny my humanity."

Yagiri Namie.

"If you say you love everyone, that's like loving no one, isn't it?"

"I'm not saying you like him, Izaya. I'm just saying, in relative terms, you feel nothing for everyone else but something for Shizuo."

"You definitely have stronger feelings for Shizuo."

"Just admit it, Izaya. Whether or not you like it, Shizuo's definitely not just anyone to you."

Kadota Kyohei.

"Because you're Izaya and he's Shizuo. Of course you two would end up having to work together."

"It's like there's a really twisted string of fate tying you two together."

"You know how they say your greatest love is from somewhere unexpected. Shizuo might be perfect for you!"

"You know, Izaya, I do mean that. You can't hate someone at first sight. You need a reason. Love, though… Maybe that was love at first sight between you and Shizuo?"

Kishitani Shinra.

Their voices echoed in his mind, words they'd said to him before their deaths. He'd brushed them off at first but now everything washed over him and he felt suffocated; they'd seen it, he thought numbly, but he'd deluded himself to not believe them.

Love wasn't always kind. Love wasn't always generous.

Love wasn't always love.

Love was passion.

Izaya closed his eyes and laughed again. It was disgusting. The love he felt for his humans was something he'd accepted; by loving them, they couldn't hurt him. He'd accept everything about them, flaws and all.

But this?

This?

Abhorrent.

Lazy smirk curling his lips, Izaya lolled his head forward. "Well, what do you know?" he drawled softly, voice hoarse. "Now I have done everything. I've finished everything I needed to in life," he murmured. "So this is what it's like to be honest with yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Not all it's cracked up to be."

"No."

He smiled again. The muscles in his face tried to perform the practiced action but couldn't sustain the expression for too long; Izaya realized he was just staring at the weapon. Every breath felt precarious; he was breathing slowly and shallowly, as if fearing a sudden gasp would cause his lungs to explode or his ribs to crack.

Every breath felt cold; he swallowed and slowly clenched his fist.

"...I feel guilty for killing Shizu-chan," he started quietly. "...I regret killing Shizu-chan. I…"

It struck Izaya suddenly how loyal Shizuo was. He'd always known that on some level; he'd teased him about being a dog for multiple reasons and that blind loyalty was certainly one he'd just never realized.

"Shizu-chan and I are going to be partners, right? To find a way out of this? So let's shake on it."

Izaya knew Shizuo took their partnership much more seriously. He kept repeating it, explaining why he did things like save Izaya's life, with it; they were partners, Shizuo insisted over and over again.

"We're partners… and you're human. I don't… want to kill a human."

"Of course I did. We're partners, aren't we?"

"Don't fuck around, Izaya!" Shizuo snapped and Hachi barked. "Oi, you said we were partners. This means you share shit like this with us!"

'Partners' had become something of a cursed word to him. He refused to use it ever since his death; saying it, hearing it, thinking of it reminded him of Shizuo and his making a mantra of it. Shizuo hated him and Izaya knew he had reason to, but after deciding to be partners, he had never once threatened to leave.

Unlike Izaya.

He had never once prioritized his own life over Izaya's.

Unlike Izaya.

He was loyal and true to their agreement of being partners.

Izaya couldn't breathe.

He had no problems betraying people if it meant furthering his own self interests and keeping himself alive was easily at the top of that list. He was ready to step on anyone at any time to achieve what he wanted, or so he thought. Using Celty meant hurting Shinra and he hated to admit that the idea of that bothered him. Using Shizuo to keep himself alive throughout this mess was something he knew he had to do. With his strength, Shizuo would be an obvious asset, his only liability his emotions.

But maybe that hadn't been the liability.

Maybe he'd done more for Izaya than he'd realized. Izaya had been annoyed over and over again by Shizuo's constant overflow of emotions but, he thought numbly, that had kept him human. Seeing a human kept him human; otherwise it would've been too easy to disregard his feelings, disassociate entirely and focus purely on survival.

There was no meaning to living if he wasn't human. The way he'd reacted to killing everyone was a testament to that.

He'd hated it so much that every time he felt an ounce of what was guilt, he suppressed it. He repressed everything to the furthest crevices of his mind, acting fine, just fine until he could believe he was really just that. Just fine.

And Izaya probably would've been able to do just that if Shizuo didn't keep butting in and ruining everything.

Shizuo, with his constant concern and genuine worry, showing more kindness to Izaya as his arch nemesis than even his own family and only friend put together. And one night, when Izaya had been silent and shaking because the weight of the world was settling on his shoulders and threatening to flatten him, Shizuo sat across the small room in Kumamoto. Shinra was gone. Celty was gone. Everyone was gone except for Shizuo and with moonlight casting a gentle shadow and crickets composing a symphony:

"Hey, Izaya… you know I don't blame you, right?"

He smiled, sincere and tired but compassionate.

"...You did what you had to for us. You're… stronger than I am."

That was a lie, Izaya thought.

Izaya wasn't stronger than Shizuo was, not physically and not emotionally. He may have seemed to be, but that was because he refused to process them. Shizuo was more resilient; he'd allow his emotions to overtake him to a fault sometimes, but in the end, he would be able to move on. For Izaya, he internalized everything and it was just his luck that there was Shizuo to push him to acknowledge some of them, otherwise he would've been overwhelmed long ago.

He would've lost his humanity and his mind long, long before this. He was weak, ultimately, and he hated that; he wasn't anywhere close to the detached figure he'd tried to become. Izaya tried to alleviate his guilt by thinking that Shizuo would deteriorate rapidly if he killed him, being alone and having blood on his hands. But, he realized, Shizuo's resiliency had gotten him this far. He survived Kasuka's death, didn't he? And despite being the reason Izaya would be dead, Shizuo would do everything in his power to fulfill Kasuka's last wish for him to stay alive.

Logic only worked if it was logical.

Izaya's next breath was strangled and choked.

Shizuo was overwhelming. Somehow seeing Hallucination Shizuo had never actually gotten him worked up; in a sense, it had been soothing. It was relieving to have him by his side again, even if a bit tinged with the harshness of his hallucinatory nature. But comfort was rare these days; Izaya grasped onto everything.

He missed Shizuo who, despite all his suffering, still managed to bring a certain optimism and sense of hope.

That optimism and hope was gone, rotting six feet under with him.

He couldn't stop thinking about him now. Every time Shizuo had smiled, every time Shizuo had reassured him, every time Shizuo had been there. Every time Shizuo pushed to talk, every time Shizuo realized to not push yet. Every time Shizuo yelled, every time Shizuo threw something, every time Shizuo did anything flooded Izaya's memory.

And then, finally, he remembered one of the few, precious lucid moments before Heiwajima Shizuo met his untimely death, he'd said:

"I was probably going to die until you found me."

Shizuo looked over and gave a small smile.

"...Thanks."

Even Izaya could recognize Shizuo was a much better person than he was.

A person. Not a monster. He'd never been the monster. Shizuo had never been the monster; there was a reason Shizuo could connect to people in a way that Izaya couldn't. People liked him. People trusted him. He was kind. He was loyal. He was honest. He was everything Izaya wasn't.

He thanked the person who had sabotaged his young adult life, shot his little brother through his head, manipulated and hurt the people he cared about routinely, nearly left him, constantly put his own selfish needs over his.

And, yet, he thanked him.

Izaya brought a hand up to his face, hoped that restricting the air would make it easier to breathe.

For all the years he'd spent claiming he hated Shizuo and wanted him dead, Izaya realized that now it had happened, he wasn't actually happy. He never had been. Not even for a second, maybe not even because he killed him.

Because wouldn't that make him happy? To be the one who killed the strongest man in Ikebukuro? To be the one who finally won?

It didn't feel like winning. Izaya's existence without Shizuo's seemed barren and empty, full of despair in an already despair ravaged world.

He supposed he never thought about what life would be like without Heiwajima Shizuo and he didn't realize he needed him until he was gone.

He started laughing.

Laughing until all the air was forced out of his lungs and they were constricting, laughing until tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, laughing until the entire apartment filled with that choked sound. Laughed because, really, how would Shizuo feel if he saw him right now? Laughed because wasn't it ironic how Shizuo would want to kill him for wanting to die? For giving up, for, as Shizuo would yell, throwing away what others laid their lives down for? Zombie Seiji was dead, but he didn't count since he was a zombie. As far as Shizuo knew, Namie gave her life protecting him. And Shizuo himself died so that Izaya could live; there were three (well, two and a half, Izaya supposed) instances that he should've died but didn't, made a last minute swap so that Death would be satisfied.

Would knowing that have made Izaya change his mind? He didn't know. Maybe. Maybe not; maybe Izaya was too far gone to care what that protozoan thought.

Would he have cared that Shizuo thought he was a coward? Shizuo already thought he was a coward.

But what he did know for sure was that Shizuo would be mad.

Shizuo would be livid and that made Izaya laugh and laugh and laugh.

It wasn't funny, though.

His laughter started dying down, until he was still grinning but there was nothing coming out of his month. Mouth slowly relaxing, Izaya focused on his breathing for a few, terse moments; in and out, in and out, in and-what was it?

Out.

Izaya forced himself to open his eyes and when he lowered his hand, he saw a book on the edge of the table.

Had that always been there?

He couldn't remember anymore.

He blinked.

The thing was, Izaya liked sitting up when reading. He found it the most practical; laying on his back caused either his arms or his neck (sometimes both) to be sore, laying on his stomach could cause his back to hurt. Sitting upright put the least strain on his body and was also the most efficient position to get up from, should he need water.

Shizuo was the one who laid down while reading. Even when they were in the RV, if there was no room in the vehicle, he'd go outside and lay in the grass, bring a blanket to lay over hard pavement if he could. Namie had thrown him an extra blanket one day because she'd just done laundry and didn't want to have to see his shirt all dirtied again in fewer than twenty four hours. "It's not even that clean, anyway." "...Thanks for the blanket?"

Izaya had started laying down while reading now without thinking twice about it.

The thing was, Izaya like realistic storylines. He didn't like the overly romantic tales where happiness was guaranteed; he preferred darker, more twisted fiction, if fiction at all. His tastes were generally historical nonfiction and books on psychology or sociology.

Shizuo was the one who liked fiction. He liked books with happy endings and while he and Izaya shared an interest in historical books, the types Shizuo read were fiction where the protagonist ultimately succeeded.

Izaya was not only reading a fiction about romance, but the one Shizuo had been thumbing through for the umpteenth time.

He blinked and the book disappeared. Straightening slowly and with a shaky sigh, he exhaled and unfurled his fingers.

"...I miss him."

Yagiri Namie, always with her sharp wit and annoying tongue, would time and time again bring up Shizuo, more often than not to piss him off. But aside from:

"I've seen people do more extraordinary things for love than hate."

There had been:

"People don't only fixate on those they hate. It's usually for something else."

Shizuo, the center of his attention when dead or alive. Izaya could spot Shizuo easily in the bustling Tokyo streets, and not only because of his stature and blond hair; in a way, he'd trained himself ever since Raira days. He'd explained it to himself as protection. If he could see Shizuo first, he could act first; if Shizuo hit first, Izaya would most likely be dead.

He purposely sought Shizuo out. He always had; he'd go into Ikebukuro just to find him and claim he was bored. He'd find some other way to amuse himself until he came back but once Shizuo was in the city again, that's when Izaya would be most delighted.

And now he was dead, but Izaya's mind was still projecting Shizuo most often. Shizuo was the first one, Shizuo was the constant, Shizuo was the always. Always, always Shizuo.

He nodded numbly.

"I miss him," he repeated, eyes widening. "I… miss him and this entire time, maybe it wasn't that I was saving him, it was that-"

"He was saving you."

Izaya stopped breathing when his own voice quieted, but hearing Hallucination Shizuo finishing the thought he couldn't stomach to form had him choking. Leaning forward, he brought one fist to his chest and pressed, bowing until he was almost folded entirely with his chest to his knees.

"Because Shizuo's always been human to you, right?" Shizuo's voice continued. "Always, even before April 23rd. He's never been a monster. He's more human than anyone else and you were jealous of how he could trust people, develop relationships, grow from his mistakes and shortcomings. Because that's not what a monster does, and yet you decided he was because it was better that he be the monster than you.

"You've always known, Izaya, right?"

Hallucination Shizuo's voice echoed in the apartment.

"That he was everything you're not. And that's what you hated."

Izaya closed his eyes and wished they'd never opened again.

Izaya excelled at reading people. Human observation had always been his hobby and he'd picked up on little things during his adolescence. It was why his plans could be so complex and yet work out; in terms of other people, Izaya knew what he was doing.

But when it came to introspection, Izaya excelled at not reading himself. He denied everything; he denied caring, he denied feeling, he denied anything that would result in attachment. Shinra would talk about it sometimes but Izaya would tune him out; they weren't things he wanted to hear and he certainly didn't enjoy listening to someone point out his faults.

Shizuo had always been different, though.

Izaya could tune Shinra out. It wasn't difficult; Izaya had been doing it for years. Shinra had that kind of a voice. An annoying voice. But not Shizuo; Izaya may not have reacted, but whenever Shizuo spoke, he found himself listening and, against his will, absorbing.

He hated the power he had over him.

He hated the effect he had on him.

He hated that he didn't hate Shizuo, that what he thought he hated about Shizuo was what he hated about himself; Shizuo's honesty was absolutely blinding.

He hated that after detaching himself from everything, Heiwajima Shizuo was that one foil; his foil. He was everything Izaya wasn't.

It drove him crazy, but it wasn't Shizuo who he hated.

Shoulders shaking as he laughed silently, Izaya was still grinning maniacally when he straightened. A crooked finger wiped the tears from his eyes.

The gun wasn't on the table anymore.

"That's right," he murmured, closing his eyes and smiling, shoulders relaxing with his last sigh.

"I never really hated him. Would I say that I was in love with him? That's a bit strong for me to proclaim, don't you think? But was I apathetic? Quite certainly no. I never was. Did I care about him? Certainly; he foiled my plans, after all. Did I care for him?"

Izaya fell silent and laughed, bowed his head and let his shoulders tremble lightly with the action. "Anything is possible," he murmured finally.

Lips still coiled in a weak smirk, he sighed, concave between bony shoulder blades deepening. "...He could've saved me. Funny, right?"

He opened his eyes, stared down at his open palms.

"...Shizu-chan could've saved me if only I'd let him."

And as Izaya lifted his head to look down the barrel, the shot fired.

april 23, 9:30 p.m.

"I never got why some funerals would be held so long after the death."

"Well, with Namie-san they were investigating. With Izaya-san, it was the same but more straightforward."

"Oh, right. They were suspicious because of that note, right?"

"That's right. But also because neither of them had family or friends here, so there was no pressure. Quite sad, actually."

"Yeah."

Orihara Izaya's funeral had been small. His body was discovered soon; Kida heard there had been a note delivered the morning after it happened. The identity of the person was never figured out, but it seemed like an Izaya type of thing to do. He'd die, but wouldn't want to rot and so would plan ahead for his discovery. Talking to people who weren't there or not, that was something he'd do without fail.

News spread quickly; on this small island, suicide was rare, and Namie and Izaya were the first two. Survival was bleak nowadays; of course, it was safe on the island, but the journey to there was immensely difficult. Some may have been luckier than others, but everyone faced some kind of difficulty. Just because some never killed didn't mean they got to escape witnessing death entirely and sometimes just seeing something could wound as awfully as an action.

Investigators said that he had died from a self-inflicted wound, gun in hand when they found him. Kida also overheard a few of them murmuring that it was strange, that it was almost like Izaya was smiling, but that wasn't publicized. He learned of it only from loitering in the building while they came in and out. Hearing it left him feeling cold; he wrapped his arms around himself and couldn't help but bow his head as he tried to remember how to breathe normally and not think about Orihara Izaya's head in a pool of blood but meticulous smile still etched on his lips.

Kida had wished death on him before, after everything he had done, but now that he was actually gone, he didn't know how to feel. It still didn't feel real; Orihara Izaya wasn't someone who he thought would die, much less by his own hand. It didn't make sense. He couldn't make heads or tails of it and it kept him up for several nights, like he was afraid Izaya would just appear, smile and announce that faking his death was all an elaborate joke because he was bored.

(He would.)

Jerking a bit when he felt Saki's hand squeeze his, Kida offered as natural a smile as he could. She didn't buy it and laced their fingers together, walking closer so their arms were pressed together. "Are you still thinking about him?"

"Yeah," he mumbled with a shrug. "It's just… I can't believe it. He didn't… I mean, I knew that he was human, but… he didn't really seem…"

"I understand," Saki said quietly, still wearing that demure smile. "It's strange he's gone."

"I just… I don't understand why. He was safe here. No one was after him. He could've started over. There was… no reason—"

He broke off and stopped walking. Saki did as well; she held his arm with both of hers and rested her chin on his shoulder. They were on their way home from a late dinner; in Ikebukuro, walking around at such an hour would've been an invitation for trouble, but this island was safe. This community was safe.

It was safe, so he didn't understand why Izaya did what he did. He didn't understand why Namie did either, but he'd never known her. Izaya, he knew. Kida couldn't say he understood Izaya, but he knew him. He knew his name. He knew his tendencies. He knew his twisted, manipulative nature and he knew to be afraid of him. Kida certainly didn't know how Izaya's mind worked or even begin to understand it but, on the basest of levels, Kida Masaomi knew who Orihara Izaya was.

And he certainly knew him enough to still be baffled by this turn of events.

He clenched his fist and even when Saki reached down, his fingers refused to unfurl. She sighed and Kida swallowed. It felt surreal. Nothing felt real anymore, nothing felt right.

Even though he was gone, it still felt like Izaya was here.

"Well," Saki said and looked up with a small smile. Kida looked over after a moment and couldn't help but smile back at her. "I guess when there's no one left for you, it doesn't matter if the world can rebuild itself. The world you knew is gone, so there's no point in living anymore."

She looked past him, focusing on the moon and squeezing his hand again as she exhaled.

"It's important to keep the people you care about close to you. Izaya-san… probably didn't realize that."

"Or," Kida mumbled, kicking at the ground, "…he didn't realize who he cared about."

xx

In 215 BC on April 23rd, a temple on Capitoline Hill was dedicated to Venus Erycina as a commemoration to a victory over Rome at Lake Trasimene.

In 1229, Ferdinand III of Castile conquered Cáceres.

In 1662, Connecticut was chartered as an English colony.

In 1795, William Hastings was acquitted in England due to high treason.

In 1798, the Dutch emperor accepted a new Constitution.

In 1851, Canada issued their very first postage stamps.

In 1904, the American Academy of Arts and Letters formed.

In 1910, the International Exhibition opened in Brussels.

In 1935, the Polish Constitution of 1935 was adopted.

In 1952, the oil pipeline extending from Kirkuk to Banias was completed.

In 1964, the New York State Theater opened.

In 1977, Dr. Allen Bussey completed 20,302 yo-yo loops.

In 1997, Titanic opened at the Lunt-Fontanne Theater in New York City.

And in the twenty first century, Tokyo fell to the zombie apocalypse.

See how many things can happen? And these are just off the top of my head. There are so many other things that have happened on April 23rd! How many can you name? Precisely; even though some of these events have been catastrophic, most people will forget them as time passes. In a few years, Japan's decimation will be forgotten, either because the world no longer exists as we know it or because it's been rebuilt and this is just another distant, historical event.

Everything is impermanent.

In 79 on August 23rd, Mt. Vesuvius began stirring.

In 476, Odoacer was proclaimed King of Italy.

In 1328, the Battle at Kassel took place.

In 1441, Holland and Hanzesteden signed a cease-fire treaty.

In 1566, Beeldenstorm reached Amsterdam.

In 1617, the first one-way streets in London opened.

In 1839, the British captured Hong Kong from China.

In 1866, the Treaty of Prague ended the Austro-Prussian.

In 1904, the automobile tire chain was patented.

In 1924, Mars was closest to Earth the first time since the tenth century.

In 1933, the first TV boxing match aired.

In 1942, the first US flights landed on Guadalcanal.

In 1944, the Allied troops captured Marseilles, France.

In 1953, Phil Grate threw a baseball far enough to set a record.

In 1986, Rags closed at the Mark Hellinger Theater in New York City after four performances.

And in the twenty-first century, I died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

However, I am but one measly person. This won't even go down in textbooks like the zombie apocalypse will. I'm just one of the thousands, of the millions who perished in Japan alone.

Imagine: everyone who died may have had a journey like mine.

Chilling, isn't it?

Alas, this is how society functions! We're often each so involved in our own affairs that we forget that everyone is the main character of their own life! Of course, we take a particular interest in those who are closest to us. But all in all, we can be extremely selfish. Our stories are the ones that are most important to us. Mine has ended and while that means everything to me, to someone else, it may just be a minor inconvenience, if anything. And to the world?

Don't make me laugh! The world doesn't care!

It can be truly upsetting, but that's how the world works:

It doesn't matter who you are, it'll continue to exist without you.

No matter who cares about you.

No matter who you care about.

But to ease this inevitably depressing outcome, we reach out to people. We impact them. We try to leave our legacy with as many people as we can so that we may continue to live even after we die. I've carried those which I could for as long as I could, but now my time has ended. But as long as I have had an impact on just one other person, at least it wasn't all for naught.

This is what it means to have lived, regrets and all.

And so, with that, I now say

goodbye.

.notes: and this unintentional monstrosity of a fic is finished! thank you to those who were extremely patient and to those who are still reading; i entirely understand as to why a fic like this is not to everyone's taste, with its harrowing tone and extreme events, like shizuo's death. as with any fic, i change a lot of things from the first outline to the final chapters i publish, but this ending, izaya's thought process, the culmination of his feelings, those are what have been the driving force since before i even started the first draft of chapter one.

again, if you've read this far, if you're still reading after more than a year and the death of, well, basically everyone, thank you, thank you, thank you for your time, attention, reviews, favorites, subscriptions, anything and everything. it's been an honor to share this with you and, for the last time, reviews are appreciated