Plot by : Vanilla-C0ke

Written by : Ophillia, You are amazing!

Shizuo wandered the streets of Ikebukuro with no particular destination in mind. He meandered sometimes when his work was complete. At times it was to gather his thoughts, at others it was to forget them for a while. The congested sounds of the busy city filtered each other out and gave the man a blank slate on which to reflect.

He wasn't thinking about much in particular that day. Things had been well enough, debts collected, duties fulfilled. Shizuo didn't possess any distinctive sense of pride in what he had managed, but he was satisfied enough in being useful. Violence would never be his preferred line of work, but with Tom it was bearable.

The day had gone without incident, so there wasn't much to think about. He enjoyed the breeze, the glow of the slowly setting sun, and lit a cigarette just for the hell of it. Once, a few years back, someone had told him that smoking helped manage stress. It was a lie for so far as it restrained Shizuo, but the habit had stuck and occasionally he just wanted the tang of it on his tongue.

What he hadn't wanted to sense was the scent of a rat. He whiffed the familiar stink before he saw anything. "Smells like shit," he growled. Hell if he wasn't always right. He stopped at the alley conjunction and let the thugs emerge from the shadows and surround him. They weren't really his prime concern but he let them corner him anyway.

Shizuo kept one hand in his pocket and the other locked at his mouth, cigarette between his fingers. Let's just get this over with, Shizuo thought. It had been some time since he'd been flanked by a hoard. There had to be some ten men, each sporting some cheap, cliqued, weaponized trash. "A bat with nails in it? You kids ever hear of a knife? Gun? No?" Shizuo's voice was thick with disinterest. These days he could hardly bother getting worked up over run-of-the-mill hoodlum sorts. "Too bad for you."

"That some kind of threat, freak?" One of the men jeered and spun his rusted pipe round and round like a kid playing with toy nun-chucks. Surely it was meant to look imposing, but it only added to the ridiculousness of the situation.

Didn't these guys know by now that this never worked? Of course they do, Shizuo thought with growing frustration. But some of these guys will do anything for the right reason.

He knew exactly who had enlisted this lot and the mere thought of him made Shizuo's stomach lurch unpleasantly. That man too knew how this would end, but it was a game. Once these rendezvous had been a test, but that was a long time ago. By now it was well known what Shizuo was capable of, this was just for fun.

The men didn't wait for a response before they grew impatient. They came at Shizuo with weapons flailing. The self-made blond turned sharply to dodge a hit from one man and extended his arm to wrap up the swirling chain of another. He barely registered the cries of horror around him as he spun his newly acquired victim round and round before sending him flying with chain and all. Shizuo's mind was elsewhere as he contended effortlessly with the trifle. He couldn't fathom why his rival kept making moves like this. It was pointless and aggravating and only made Shizuo's irritation with him all the worse.

With his growing ire his strength amplified and he took hold of another attacker and sent him flying into a small group of what remained. They toppled like bowling pins. There were only a few men left standing when Shizuo's focus deviated.

As the darkness swallowed the night the streetlights flickered on and beneath one just to Shizuo's left stood the initial point of that present provocation. The cheap yellow light casted a dirty brown halo over his dark hair and added an eerie presence to his facade of a grin. He was unmistakable in any light, Izaya Orihara.

When their eyes met Izaya's hand flew up and his smile spread wide. "Yo, Shizu-chan! Good to see you. Having fun?" He leaned nonchalantly against the streetlamp and it highlighted him further.

Shizuo grit his teeth against the pulse of blood that shot through his body. It was like a drug racing through his system and lighting up his nerves. He had known the man was responsible for this, but seeing him–hearing him–lit a whole different fire.

"Izaya!" The name bellowed forth from him on instinct. It was his go-to mantra when his rage bubbled up inside too big for words. Before he knew what he was doing he was seizing hold of a nearby vending machine and prying it from the ground. The metal shivered under the force of his grip, the metal plating locking it to concrete squealed as it was ripped from the earth. He lifted it up high and felt his bones compressing under the pressure, but that was a sensation he'd come to ignore long ago. He lobbed the metal mass through the air as fluidly as he'd grabbed it and it went whizzing through the sky right toward the dark figure that still stood smirking.

Izaya crossed his arms and stepped just out of range. The machine went crashing into the streetlamp and knocked it to the ground, desolated the bulb on rolling impact, and continued to bounce down the street. Its hard edges cracked sidewalk as it tumbled along. "Such a warm welcome. I find hello works just as well."

Shizuo wasn't in the mood for sarcasm. He brutally yanked a stop sign from the ground and its roots of steel and bolts fell and dangled from equal parts. Most of the thugs had dispersed when Shizuo had exhibited his real power, but one still lurked in the shadows, hopeful of a surprise assault.

Shizuo didn't notice the man at all as he heaved the sign at Izaya. However the information broker had a keen gaze and he perceived the man at once.

There was a hint of iron distending from his palm, a small weapon but perhaps deadlier than that of the others in the right hands. It gleamed as the man lunged forward.

It was an un-calculated factor, a number that slipped through, a glimmer of immeasurable human nature that might have gleaned Izaya's respect had he not been so ensnared by his own loss of breath when he took sight of it. The man was rushing toward Shizuo with the polished knife extended, intent to kill apparent.

Shizuo didn't notice and Izaya moved on impulse. He moved with speed he'd garnered from years of sprinting out of the way of projectiles. His body all but flew threw the air as he took large bounds to close distance. If he had been thinking he might have slowed, delayed, or ceased entirely. He might have thought through what his body was preventing. If he had been thinking he might have just let Shizuo die. Yet he wasn't and he didn't.

The impact didn't hurt at first, it was just cold like touching ice water. If he screamed he didn't hear it. Then the wound warmed and he felt it spread out like a sticky summer heat resolute to torment a single patch of flesh. He quivered and fell.

Shizuo saw it all in flashes like he was watching the world through a toy viewfinder. There was Izaya, smirking, a living target. Then he was gone and there was only the space where he'd been. A rush of wind was followed by a sharp cry, more of surprise than agony.

By the time Shizuo had the wherewithal to turn toward the sound Izaya was hitting the ground with a knife lodged in his chest. The thug stood shocked, then took one look at Shizuo and ran for his life.

Urgency forced mobility back into Shizuo's body. He dropped his most recent weapon and knelt to the ground beside the other man. Izaya looked crumpled and small and not at all like himself. A wave of nausea unfamiliar to the sight of Izaya shook Shizuo. Thoughts rolled over one another in a desperate attempt to have their say. All he could decipher from the scrambled mess was the obvious. Izaya had been stabbed. Surely he would die. He would die because of Shizuo. Another violent wave made the blond's stomach coil.

He didn't realize he was pulling Izaya into his arms, didn't pay attention when he pressed his palm below the gash to slow the release of blood. All he knew was that this was not the time or place. The flea could not die then.

Shizuo fought off his own lightheadedness. He thought to call someone for help and the arm that wasn't cradling Izaya found his cell phone. He slammed out an urgent text and hoped his trembling hand made sense of it.

Izaya was still in his grip. "Talk to me," Shizuo growled. When he got no response the air in his throat crawled up and made his next word barely a whisper. "Izaya?"

There was no response from the body before him. The silence made everything else go quiet and all Shizuo could hear was the pulsing of blood in his ears. He felt like he'd been torn into. The next sound he heard, the roar of a motorcycle's engine, dragged him back into reality.

He numbly, reluctantly allowed Celty to take the wounded man and he followed after in a taxi. When Shizuo reached the apartment Izaya had already been taken inside.

Shizuo climbed up the steps to the room in a haze, barely aware of anything except what had happened and where he was headed.

He needs time to work, Celty wrote by way of greeting. She held up the phone as she blocked Shizuo from entering the bedroom once he was within the apartment.

"To hell with that! I need to see him," Shizuo seethed. He didn't know what he'd do if he did and he had just been with him so recently that there were still moist bloodstains on the pressed cuffs of his white sleeves. Yet Shizuo felt that digging impulse to react, to move toward his aggression. Fear turned to anger as he was forced to replay the scene over and over in his mind.

Sit down, Celty urged. Shizuo knew he couldn't, to try would be to pent up more tension and he didn't want to take out what he was feeling on the dullahan. So he paced instead back and forth for what seemed like ages until Shinra at last emerged.

The underground doctor wore an uncharacteristically grim expression that made Shizuo's heart feel like it weighed a thousand pounds and the pressure was trying to crush him.

"He was unconscious and hemorrhaging when Celty got him in. It took a while to clear the work area. The wound was clean, but it punctured vitally. Izaya has experienced traumatic lung failure. I've hooked him up to an oxygen machine."

Shizuo was having a hard time with what he was hearing, as if Shinra was speaking some other language and the debt collector was being forced to pick the statements apart and piece them back together. Every word felt complicated and new.

When the blond showed no signs of response, Shinra went on. "I've done everything I can. The rest relies on Izaya. But to be honest, it's unlikely he will survive the night."

At last it all sank in, but Shizuo's body rejected it like a virus. He thought he would be sick. It couldn't be true. It was playing out like a bad joke, or like one of Izaya's stunts. It was just a game, a taunt. That flea could never die. They'd suffered damages upon one another that normal humans would have thought impossible, near Herculean in scope. They'd butted heads literally and figuratively and never once had Izaya's mortal veil so much as slipped. Shizuo wouldn't believe it.

"I want to see him. He's just being dramatic. I'll flip him off that mattress and remind him he isn't allowed to die or he'll lose. That'll get the cretin moving!" It was all Shizuo wanted all of a sudden. He felt like if he lashed out it would play out like always. Izaya would have some new card up his sleeve and be sly and resilient. There was no reason to believe otherwise.

Shinra's disposition did not change. He took on a strictness he typically reserved for emergencies. "Don't you dare. He's not in any state. He isn't well. If you harass him now you'll regret it and I say that at the risk of being damaged by you myself. You should go home and let Izaya rest. It's best if you not put stress on him or yourself by staying."

Shizuo was unsettled by the seriousness of Shinra's tone and his anger quelled enough for him stand idle. He pointed violently toward the bedroom just on the other side of the wall. "You'll tell me when I can pummel him?"

Shinra nodded. "I'll alert you if there are any changes in his condition."

Shizuo turned toward the door to leave. He looked to Celty and expected her to say something, some word of comfort or beseech to calm. She didn't move though, just sat on a stool and gazed at nothing in her headless way as ominous black poured out from her neck in waves that did nothing to ease the sinking sensation taking over Shizuo's body.

He left in a huff, slammed the door behind him, but it was all natural response.

He drifted home more than he walked. When he got inside he sat on his mattress and tried to forget, but the night was all he could think about. Why would Izaya risk his life for me? It was the thought that plagued him most. It might have been a taunt, a way to show that the broker could take more damage. Or perhaps it had been pride. No one can kill me but him, Shizuo thought, repulsed.

He wanted so badly to believe it had been a selfish act, that Izaya was trying to upstage him in some way. Yet the man had been seriously hurt. That meant it wasn't something Izaya had planned. Or at the very least it did not seem likely.

"Why the hell did you get involved?" Shizuo startled himself by speaking out loud and the ensuing anger he felt made him lash out and he smashed the lamp on his bedside table that he had so recently replaced. He glared at the shards, some of them glimmered in the moonlight coming through his window and he felt suddenly sad, as if the lamp deserved pity. "Why do I feel so guilty?"

The blond pulled his gaze from the shattered glass and looked out toward the city. He'd never felt anything other than rage and hatred toward the flea, so what was different now? I shouldn't care about this. He made his choice. Still...

Shizuo couldn't stop himself from wondering what life would be like without Izaya around. Over the years he'd grown accustomed to their cat and mouse chase. They had been all over Ikebukuro. Like a silent pact they had tormented one another through time, neither winning nor losing. Always just existing.

The debt collector had thought his intention was always for Izaya to die, so now that it was happening it should have felt good, but it didn't. It seemed wrong. Wrong in every way.

The thoughts plagued him and they piled up. He got lost in a storm of irrational emotion and he found it difficult to remain still. For fear of destroying the rest of his home he decided to step outside for a smoke.

The night was clear and beautiful, another bad joke. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He let it burn in his lungs and ease his limbs. I guess it does relieve a little stress, if I'm being honest, he thought. However it didn't do enough to stop the scorching in his chest. He stared up at the moon and let the toxin drift in and out with each new breath. His legs started to move without his command and he just let them carry him.

Wandering around Ikebukuro hadn't been his intention, it was simply what he wound up doing. He didn't feel at first that he had any particular destination in mind, but his body carried him to one of the last places they'd fought. The sidewalk was still split up the middle for nearly a block from where Shizuo had tried to crush the other man with a car. They hadn't been dueling about anything in particular. They'd just happened across each other and it was what they did. They fought as if by contract.

That was the way it usually was actually. Occasionally Izaya sent a gang or group after Shizuo, or attempted to frame the man for a crime he didn't commit. Most often however their battles were simply of circumstance. Same place, same time, same goals. They'd been doing it so long that it had started to feel like a learned song and dance.

Evidence of their waltz was all over the city. It wasn't hard to spot the places they'd rumbled over the last few months because of all the property damage they were prone to cause. After a while Shizuo found himself chuckling at how they had so thoroughly tattooed the city. The sound of his own amusement quelled up a more sickening feeling in its wake, his body simply refused to stay balanced. He was drawn to the last place they had encountered, the alley they'd been in but a few hours before. Shizuo found however that he wasn't able to go. It was the one place he didn't feel a twisted fondness for and he could not bring himself to revisit it. His mind wouldn't let go of one looping fear. What am I going to do without him?

Izaya had no way of knowing what thoughts were eating away at his rival. He had no reason to believe the blond had any regards for him whatsoever. In fact, Izaya had been wallowing in his own aggravation for quite some time. Never one to stay down for long, he had woken and heard the exchange between Shinra and Shizuo.

The information broker was livid at what he had heard. Shizuo had displayed rage and flippancy and not an iota of deliberate concern. Was he afraid? Izaya was certain of that. He was positive the man was concealing his true feelings beneath those layers of hatred and aggression. However, it was his external behavior that infuriated Izaya.

Shizuo was just too stubborn a man. He would dig his heels in the ground and call the sky orange if he really wanted it to be so. Unfortunately, it seemed he wanted nothing more than to continue hating Izaya under any circumstance. Flip me from the mattress indeed, Izaya thought bitterly.

It seemed Shizuo was terrified to admit the very thing that Izaya tried often to conceal. The fact was Izaya was not was inhuman as he claimed to be. He was mortal, fragile, and capable of emotion. Though he often debunked his own desires and buried them deep for fear of being hurt or rejected. At core he was more delicate than he cared to be so. Never would he have admitted such a thing aloud. Scarcely could he console this reality within himself, but he would be hell-bent to ever say it to him.

Izaya was convinced it was Shizuo that had things to confess to anyway. Izaya was the one in control, he always had been and with his own way he always would be until his last breath was stolen. He had a goal in mind, a new one. The true one that had always lied dormant just below the surface of maniacal intent. He was going to force Shizuo to admit his true emotions. Izaya longed to be victorious and to know while he abstained. Shizuo's own flippancy had demanded the trial. Izaya wanted to see him broken. He needed to feel his own life was worthwhile in the eyes of the man that had sworn to kill him.

When Izaya put his mind to something he dedicated himself to it. He carefully subdued and removed the medical equipment so as not to alert his in-house doctor of his affairs. That equipment had been working hard to keep him alive and the moment he switched it off he could feel the difference. His lungs were tight and made his entire body ache from head to toe. It was painful to draw in each new breath and he felt almost instantly lightheaded and woozy.

The logical part of him begged his body to reconsider. The part of him that was cold and calculating and always led his intuition knew that his desires were valid, but it was a foolish time to pursue them.

Yet the animalistic part of him and the emotional part worked in tandem to carry on without heed of his better judgment. He struggled out of the bed and into the only article that hadn't been stained by the attack, his pants. Each motion felt agonizing, but determination outweighed self-preservation in a masterful way only Izaya could manage.

He worked his way past Shinra and Celty by making his way down the fire escape. The great height gave him pause but he managed to make his way down. He was dead-set on his motivations and nothing was going to stop him from putting his demented plan into action.

Shizuo didn't have any way of knowing what Izaya was up to. He presumed the man would slumber and the moment he awoke Shinra would call. So Shizuo remained lost in his musings as he walked the nearly too familiar streets of Ikebukuro. He was still aching all over but his head was trying to sort through these emotions he could no longer avoid. Normally it was simple to pass off a fleeting emotion as something else. A hot sensation was always rage, a moment of sadness just a whisper of loneliness. It never was genuine, never because of the flea.

It was different in that moment. He couldn't run from the thoughts because they were so numerous and his mind was forcing him to consider things he'd refused to ever before, but all he wanted was to escape it.

A sort of reprieve arrived in the form of a wailing tone. The sound startled Shizuo from the quiet place inside his head and he scrabbled for the cell phone in his pocket. The phone blinked with a private number Shizuo did not recognize. He had no real expectations when he brought the device to his ear and answered. "Hey. Who is this?" He didn't really feel like talking, but he thought it best to at least make note of the number.

His greeting was met by silence at first, a long dense emptiness that made Shizuo uneasy. He opened his mouth to speak again but the sound of harsh coughing filled his ear. He felt his heart plummet, once more weighed down by unwanted terror.

The coughing grew worse, then ragged.

"Izaya? Is that you?" Shizuo's tone was slightly concerned and there was no way to conceal it. He didn't even notice it had slipped out of him that way. All of his focus was on the man at the other end of the line. "Izaya?!"

He was greeted by a dial tone and he stared at the phone as if it had sinned. He didn't know what to do.

Izaya continued to choke as he clutched the phone to his chest. He had tried to form words, but they had refused to come. His lungs were weak and wheezing and he struggled to steady himself.

He felt dizzy when the coughing at last subsided and still he had trouble finding breath. The pain in his chest was intensifying, growing steadily worse with each moment. Whatever grand plan he'd been devising fell to particles of its former self as he tried to rationalize how he could still get his way without being able to move.

His slow, shuffling motions through town were downright pitiful and he felt shamed for having rushed out. He wormed his way to a park bench and sat down to rest. Perhaps this wasn't the brightest idea I've ever executed,Izaya thought with exhaustion. His body was growing weaker than he'd imagined and he was losing vigor with each new motion. Ambition was only enough to carry a mortal man so far and, though Izaya detested it, he was nothing more than mortal himself.

He leaned back on the bench and let his body spread out over the surface. The wood was cold and slipped through the thin shirt and bandages Shinra had provided. Izaya felt cold all over and began to ache for the warmth of the bed he had abandoned. Maybe I am a fool, he thought resentfully.

Exhaustion wore down his eyelids and he felt them growing heavier with the passing seconds. He fought off the feeling as long as he could, but soon the bliss of rest seemed too attractive. His lashes fluttered down to kiss his cheeks. He decided he'd only rest his eyes for a moment.

In the meanwhile Shizuo's anxiety skyrocketed. His nerves shuddered all the way down and he started off toward Shinra's apartment. He needed to see Izaya, needed to prove with his own eyes that the man was alive. A deep worry ebbed into his thoughts that played out the scenario of Izaya waking alone and terrified, wracked with pain.

Other thoughts plagued him as well and he nearly jolted to the moon when his phone went off again and he was ripped from the dark daydreams. He pulled out the phone and felt no comfort to see Shinra's name and number sprawled over the device.

As he brought the object to his ear he hoped that Shinra was just calling to displace any fear, just ringing to let Shizuo know Izaya had tried to call in a fit but was fine now. That hope didn't outweigh the fear and he answered with a voice that wavered nearly as much as the hand that clasped the phone. His fingers trembled as if the phone would be destroyed by his gentle grip. "Hello?"

Shinra didn't want to be the one to break Shizuo and the usually sturdy blond sounded almost brittle on the other end. Unfortunately, this was urgent and he felt he had little choice. "I went to check on Izaya, but he and some of his things are gone. I think he had his phone, but he won't answer. I've sent Celty out, but no word yet."

"Damn it! Damn it, Izaya!" Shizuo's shaking hand clamped tight around his phone and crushed it like an empty soda can. The data chips and other small bits of technology crumpled under his powerful fingers before being dropped to the ground as fresh litter. Shizuo cursed at it, but knew it wouldn't do him any good anyway. He set off into the city at a sprint and started to retrace his steps in the hopes of finding the idiotic broker.

He thought perhaps their minds were more alike than he cared to admit and he checked the places they had fought. When that effort bared no fruit, he sought after Izaya's usual haunts instead.

This proved to be more successful ultimately. At first Shizuo checked buildings where the man liked to lurk, the newsstand where he loitered, the turnstile where he stalked. With each failure Shizuo felt a tremor of agony and defeat that Izaya had never made him feel before. He was grateful to whatever mercy he had when at last he stumbled upon the broker in the park.

He found Izaya slumped on a bench, his body limp. For a moment Shizuo's heart surged with fear, but when he saw the gentle lift of Izaya's chest it was replaced by blind rage. It took all Shizuo had not to lift the other man up and beat him to a pulp. He wanted to hurt him, to hit him. To have Izaya dodge like always. Sadly it wasn't possible. Shizuo stopped just short of taking hold of the broker and simply loomed over him instead. "Flea! What the hell were you thinking, Izaya?!"

Izaya's eyes snapped open and he stared for a long moment up at Shizuo. It was evident he had been alarmed by the sudden sound and the residual shock lingered on his pale expression for longer than it should have. When he gathered where he was and that Shizuo was in fact there, he tried to lift his head to speak or acknowledge his company; he found his head was too heavy, or rather his neck too weak and his form too devoid of energy. He tried once more before giving up.

In lieu of a proper address he summoned the strength to speak. "Can this be? Is the beast of Ikebukuro actually concerned about the well being of a lowly flea?" It was meant to be condescending, a mocking taunt, but it fell short. It was too clear in his tone that the pain was getting to him. It was capturing every part of his body. He shuddered, but tried to pretend nothing was wrong. "Why, I'm humbled."

Shizuo felt a ferocious anger overcome him, one like he'd never felt before. Rather than violence this brought an urge to scream. He wanted to shake Izaya until wits fell back into the broker's head. This isn't a game,Shizuo thought viciously. You can't keep playing. "You can't come back," he said as his voice quivered.

Shizuo wasn't even entirely sure what he meant. Izaya wouldn't be able to come back if he perished, wouldn't be able to come back to Shinra's if he'd pushed himself too hard, would never be able to come back to battle Shizuo if he didn't recover. It was an ambiguous warning, one rife with despair.

Izaya nodded as much as his tired body allowed. "I know." His voice was so soft it could barely be heard. It sent a frightened tremble through his lifelong opponent. It was a little giveaway of the deeper feelings below and one that Izaya did not receive as his eyes slipped closed again, unable to remain open under his weary spirit. He wanted to look, to see Shizuo, but it couldn't be done. He'd never felt so disconnected from himself before.

Shizuo took in a deep breath and lifted Izaya from the bench. His body was cold all over, more ice than flesh if touch were the sole sense to judge. Izaya felt tinier than he was, almost feather light. Shizuo pulled the man to his chest and cradled him there, hoped some of his body heat would rush in to fill the empty cracks in the broker.

I didn't know he could be that gentle, Izaya thought through the fog in his head. It was a realization equal parts both repugnant and befitting. Izaya had always wanted to think of Shizuo as a monster, it was just easier that way. Feeling him like this though, so close, so warm, it made Izaya think Shizuo wasn't the only one of the two that had been mistaken about something.

"Izaya, you're freezing," Shizuo mumbled. He couldn't seem to stop the cold. It ebbed through the little cloth Izaya wore and dripped into Shizuo's own skin like icy needles jabbing at him. It made him woozy and the lights of the city blurred as he carried Izaya toward the park's exit.

"Mmhmm," Izaya responded faintly. The lazy sound vibrated through Shizuo's chest as the dark-haired man snuggled in closer. He could feel the fabric of Shizuo's usual vest pressing against his cheek; he could hear the heartbeat radiating, pounding through Shizuo's torso. Izaya realized with startling clarity that this was the first time he'd ever been so close to Shizuo without nearly being killed. It was actually the closest he'd ever gotten at all. The reality of it made his own erratic heart pound faster and his chest ached with every pulse. He could detect the man's scent clearly too. "You smell like cigarettes, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo felt a wash of relief pass over him. Izaya was well enough to tease. Shizuo couldn't help but chuckle since it seemed even on the brink Izaya could not resist a jab of some kind. He tried to tell himself it was all going to be okay even as he felt how cold Izaya remained in his arms. He just had to get the man back to Shinra's and then everything would be okay. He walked toward the destination at the best pace he could manage. He didn't want to jostle Izaya too much, nor did he want to move too slowly.

Silence fell over them for a long while and Izaya just inhaled the scent being offered to him. It felt so indulgent, like devouring a tub of candy or taking the first long sip of a hot drink. He was smothering his senses in it, taking in all he could in this sole opportunity. He allowed the quiet for a while and then he simply had to speak again. "So, you really were worried about me, eh?"

Shizuo should have been aggravated by the question but instead it made him think. He had been undeniably worried. No matter how he tried to reframe what he had felt it still hung in crystal clear view, a perfect picture depicting his trembling hands, pale face, and internal horror. It might have shamed him to admit it, but he felt strangely calm tonight. With Izaya wrapped up in his arms it felt almost right to be honest. "Yes, my little Flea." The words fell forth only slightly curbed by humiliation and they felt oddly right. Still he felt slight annoyance at how his cheeks burned. He knew he was red in the face and growing redder, but there was nothing he could do once the words were in the open.

Suddenly Izaya was smirking up at Shizuo. His eyes were barely slit open as he took in a long gaze of the blond. "I win," he whispered. His voice was barely even that for how it had weakened. The words however were clear and they were punctuated by loud, hard coughs that rocked his form.

Shizuo gripped him a little tighter and stopped moving until Izaya's cough settled to gentle shivers. He looked down at the broker in confusion. Surely he hadn't heard what he thought he had. This moment was meant to be candid, something neither had known, but both suspected and accepted. Wasn't that how it was meant to go? "Wait. What? What?!"

Izaya shuddered in the other man's hold until he settled back in so his body was flushed against Shizuo's chest. He weakly gripped the man's shirt and pulled his head up closer to snuggle in the crook of Shizuo's neck. Slowly his breath ghosted over the blond's throat as Izaya repeated, "I. Win."

Shizuo couldn't grasp the words. They didn't make any sense. They hadn't been playing, nothing had been lost or gained that he could see. He held Izaya firmly and tried to decipher the code. He felt like he was back in Shinra's apartment, trying to make sense of horrible news. This time the sad confusion was almost entirely befuddlement.

Then Izaya's grip went slack and he sunk down into Shizuo's hold. Ragged breaths stopped pouring from his lungs, all motion ceased. A peaceful expression sat were a mischievous grin usually did.

Suddenly it all made sense. Izaya had gotten what he wanted, had heard what he needed to. Shizuo had played into his hands one final time, had given over to emotion again, like always. Shizuo had surrendered what little hold he still had. Suddenly it all made sense and Shizuo was petrified.

"Izaya?" Shizuo gave the limp form a gentle shake. He half-expected Izaya to shoot up laughing and call Shizuo a fool for admitting to caring about something. Sadly, the body didn't react. Shizuo shook Izaya again, harder so the loose limbs jostled and the man's head tilted from side to side.

Sickness bubbled up inside of Shizuo and threatened to consume him. His legs felt like lead and he dropped to his knees. "Izaya!"

The body wasn't going to move no matter how hard he shook it. He rumbled Izaya like a child confused by the concept before him. He just wanted the pain in the ass to wake up. He wanted his rival to rise up. Never before had Shizuo longed to be called a monster.

Alas, it didn't come. No comforting jeers, no physical barbs, no assurance that status quo would be returned.

"Izaaayaaaa!" He cried out like a wolf howling for his pack. The noise was so familiar, but it was tainted by sorrow and grief. Many times he had called out to the man in his arms this way. He had sworn retribution, had declared his vile hatred and swore to make the very reality he held now in his shivering grip. Always he had called out to the flea, to Izaya, just this way. Always in anger, always with dark promise. It had always been part of the game.

This time it was different. It was deep and earnest and aching. It was a cry of mourning. He squeezed the body to his chest, but realized at long last that the vessel was void. Shizuo finally allowed himself to cry.

The tears burned as they poured from him, uncontrolled. His broken sobs weaved into the blazing sounds of the night that he had gone deaf to. He wept until he thought he'd crumple over Izaya and lie there to await his own demise. Then, once the tears had ebbed, he smiled.

The expression found him without force or desire. It crept onto his lips and reminded him why he felt such sorrow to begin with. Because of course Izaya had chosen this. This was what Shizuo should have seen coming.

He shouldn't have expected anything less from Izaya or it simply would not have been Izaya.

He stood on unsteady legs and laughed gently under his breath as he carried what remained of the information broker through the streets of Ikebukuro. He traveled into the darkness with Izaya in his arms for the first and last time.