Author's Note: Sorry... This is the last story that I'm trying to finish and I've waited too long and too eagerly to try to get it up and it's just not going as planned at all. I know I said that Chronic was probably the last of my long fics, and this one was never meant to be as long as it is so far. I'm approaching 50k words with about another 20-30k before. Only my beta has seen it and I'm just too anxious to keep it in any longer. I've also been having really bad writer's block and I admit that even though this story is well past what it was meant to be (10k for the bigbang challenge), it's not done and I haven't been working on it. So I'm hoping that maybe it's because I'm just bad at keeping things to myself and having shared it with people will help me finish.

Also, this story DOES start off with IzayaxNamie and I DO ship the pairing. However, this is a SHIZAYA fic (though it might take a little while to get there). So if you're reading this note, be patient and we'll get there.

If you don't like alternate universe story lines, this is not the story for you.

If you can't handle my writing ever being out-of-character, this is not the story for you.

If you are sensitive to drug/alcohol abuse, this may not be the story for you.

If you are looking for PWP or a lot of sex, this is not the story for you.

If you can't handle angst, this is not the story for you.

If you can't handle character death, this is not the story for you.

But I promise fluff and bickering along the way, and I ask that you give this AU!fic a chance.

Thank you!

Bitter Oblivion

Just like the cigarettes hurt,
Just like the whiskey burns, woaho, woaho,
I guess I'm never gonna learn

-

Summer was in full swing less than a week into July.

If that much wasn't blatantly obvious, due to what felt like thousands of Japanese youths hitting the streets during a time that they'd regularly be in school, the festivals in every corner of the city were as good a giveaway as any.

Old fashioned tunes filled the air, floating through every human being's ears, filling their hearts with nostalgic sentiments for their cultural roots. Yukatas in every vibrant color were wrapped seamlessly around beautiful women and girls, ages three to seventy-two; creating a natural distraction for men who were all too easily influenced by such radiating beauty. And the smell – scents of traditionally cooked foods – wafted through the air, turning festival goers into gluttons between the games and dances.

Summer.

A wonderful time. A time for celebration. A time for fun. For relaxation. Memories. Love.

So tell me where it all went wrong. Tell me when the magic turned to poison. Tell me when the floor fell out from beneath my feet. Tell me how…

Tell me how I landed here, forcing a tar-colored liquid out of my stomach and feeling ripped further and further apart by each bitter heave.

Tell me when that sweet, warm honey turned to poison in my hands.

Tell me who I was when I was in love, and when she loved me back, or if it was all a lie. Give me the reasons why it fell through my fingers, replaced by agonizing thoughts. The truth to the reality I can never seem to escape.

"GET OUT!" she screamed, losing her final nerve.

I staggered out of her warpath just short of a bottle colliding with my skull.

"And take this filth with you!"

Instead, the olive glass exploded against the wall, its sweet contents slowly trickling down the wall.

"AAH! Seriously, Namie?" I stared wide-eyed at the mess, "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Get. Out."

Playing on a lacking innocence wouldn't get me anywhere this time. I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and tell her that it wasn't my fault. I wanted her to know that I loved her, but work had made certain demands of me… demands I couldn't resist even if I wanted to.

She wasn't having it. And it was that very revelation that turned innocence to taken aback rage. It crushed me that she wouldn't take me seriously.

"What the fuck?" I struggled to find my balance. "And go where? I fucking live here, too, you know!"

Hazy eyes could not see her face as clearly as they would have liked to. I could only feel a fraction of her own rage as my barrier of intoxication blocked out rational thought processing. Still, I knew better than anyone what it meant for her to lose that passive façade she always wore so well.

I watched her for a moment, distracted by her emerald sweater drooping off of her shoulder. In an instant, she was pushing it back up, shielding her milky flesh from my sight.

"Namie…" I whispered, using a soft tone to convince her to change her frazzled mind.

"Get away from me," she pushed against my pleading, "You reek."

"Namie, we can work it out," I reached a hand out to her air, only to be slapped down.

Even as my skin reddened, I felt nothing.

"I packed a bag for you. Leave before I call the police."

"The police?" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes, "It's my name on the fucking lease!"

She folded her arms, ready to stand her ground. "Not anymore. I told the landlord everything. He switched our names."

"Fuck! What the hell!"

"Who would rent an apartment to an irresponsible loser, Izaya?"

"Seriously?"

"Leave," her anger never wavered, and I knew she meant it word for word. "We're through."

"So… what? You're just going to throw away the past two years as if they never happened?"

"Of course not!" she sneered, ending it with a cruel laugh, "You did that all by yourself when you started drinking."

I shrunk back, angry and hurt, confused and panicked. "I told you I'm sorry."

"If you're sorry, it would have stopped by now."

"It's not my fault!" I declared, clenching at my heart, "You're all I have. The only one who loves me, Namie… don't shove me out like I'm garbage!"

"You are garbage. And I do not love you."

"E-excuse me!"

"I value myself far too much to become victim to the hell you've created for yourself. You're pathetic, and I don't have to live with it. I don't care where you go, but I don't want to see your face. You're nothing but a reminder of all the time I've wasted."

And I could tell that she meant it. With every gorgeous fiber of her being, Yagiri Namie did not love me as she once had.