Hey everyone, I finally am back...for real this time. I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to get back on and that this chapter probably is shitty, but hey, I'll do my best to make it better in the chapters to come. This was me getting back into the flow of writing and all that this story was and will be in the future. So, you just get some exposition and a delve into Izaya through his point of view. Hopefully this will hold you over for a little while well I attempt to put my hectic life in order so I have some time to update. C: Anyway, I hope some of you are still following this story and I look forward to hearing from new readers and those of you that somehow managed to stick with this for the past year or so of waiting. My sincere apologies, I hope you enjoy. o

Chapter 7

I should have bolted. The second I ever realized that he knew my past. I should have just laughed it off like usual and headed on my way. Yes, I was supposed to attend our 'meetings', but in all reality I could have gotten away with not going and Namie would never know. Hell, I could have gotten away with anything…but this was different. With all the fucking reasons not to show up, I still found myself answering his questions and following his lead like a decent…dare I say it…patient. Maybe if I'd just kept our relationship to the way it was supposed to be and let him hit me with a few more vending machines, we wouldn't be in this mess.

I could feel the muscles of his back move under me, my body shifting slightly with every step he took. The big oaf thought I had drifted off a while ago. The pain was agonizing, but nothing that I hadn't suffered through before, nothing that…he hadn't already done to me. Shifting my eyes to glance up at the buildings that surrounded us, I prayed to whatever God had the nerve to think he was above me that no one noticed just whom it was that Shizuo was currently carrying.

"Hold on Izaya, just a few more minutes." His voice was shaking, and if I didn't know any better I'd say there was a thick accent of worry. Ha, wasn't that just the comedic relief of my life? Shizuo? Worried about me? Sounded like a bad joke, except there was no forced laughter to follow it. "Shizi…" I murmured, trying to move my arms, but they hung limply over his shoulders due to the hunched angle his back was in. "Izaya?" He seemed surprised, but there was some sort of twinge of relief in the way he spoke. "Hey flea! Once we get to Shinra's, I'm gonna kick your ass into next week." I laughed, but it sounded like more of a strangled wheeze. It was then that I noticed the warm sensation that rested on my side.

Hello again my old friend…

The blood hadn't stopped flowing, despite the brute's attempt at slowing it down. I don't know what I was expecting. Shizuo probably couldn't even put a band-aid on correctly. Fucking protozoan. It was comforting non-the-less, that feeling of wetness that seemed to seep farther and farther under my armor. Then, like it had never haunted me every moment of slumber, the images played across my mind. They were the keys of a long forgotten piano, each one out of tune and thickly crusted with crimson dust.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

There goes the glass, and there goes the light.

"You ungrateful worthless piece of shit."

There goes the book, and there goes the vase.

"It's all your fucking fault."

There I go. A piece of glass on the floor, smashed into little pieces.

Hands filled with shards that could only reflect back at me the very thing I hated.

Blood was there beside me, on me, around me. A friend in the darkness, the only thing that wasn't stained black and filtered with cobalt blue. Blue like the ocean, so thick and endless that I was lost in it forever as a child.

Blue like…

Blue…

The images of bruises drifted into my mind, limbs merging over what was once the terrorist of my past. If it weren't for the haze that started to creep in I would have laughed at the audacity of it all. The world should pay for that, it should drop down like the whore that it is and pay me a fifty right now for the unfair hand I've been dealt. But like the world always has been, so it shall be. Trying to move a bit to get more comfortable, my vision began to fade once more. It started at the edges, the darkness creeping about like an old film before it spread across any light left.

In my eyes…

And in me…

Some part of me hoped we'd never make it to Shinra's. That Shizuo would realize that 'helping' me was a waste of his time. In all reality, it was. Hadn't he spent the last few years of his life chasing me out of this damned city? Hadn't he told me over and over again that he couldn't wait to see me lying lifeless on the pavement? Oh what an image that would be. The great Izaya Orihara, laid out for all to see in the middle of his favorite street in Ikebukuro. Would they mock me? Would people walk by with simple smiles applauding the death they had all prayed would happen? Shizuo…you could be a hero. You could drop me now, lay me out, and present me however you wanted. You could tell everyone that you stabbed me, that you were victorious in this seemingly endless fight. You could finally rest easy knowing you didn't have to chase this 'damn flea' out of your 'Bukuro.

Be a hero…

Let me go…

With the last bit of sight I had I could see us nearing Shinra's building. You're a damned son of a bitch, Shizuo.

I failed again.

I failed to live like I needed to.

I failed to die like I deserved to.

I was going to fail Shizuo for surviving this.

But the worst of it all was that I failed to realize that none of that mattered.

This was awfully short, and I greatly apologize for that. Hope you enjoyed it, I'll be in touch~ (: