Chapter Text
It's a usual busy morning when Izaya catches sight of familiar bleached, messy hair. He considers his options, wondering if it might be in his best interest to let Shizuo pass by unprovoked. Izaya's got a deadline coming up and a meeting to get to, not to mention his stomach is a little sour from leaving his apartment without breakfast. He could wait until Shizuo passes, make his way to the nearest cafe, and the rest of his day could go without a hitch, but somehow the thought of another mundane day has Izaya's face scrunching in irritation. His work isn't normal by any means, nor is his life, but he thinks if it ever started to be predictable, he really might lose his mind for good.
He watches Shizuo, wondering when might be the best time to intercept him, but he pauses when he hears Shizuo's laugh ring out. It's bright, unbridled, happy. Izaya rarely sees Shizuo like this, and he's never seen Shizuo like this up close. By far, this is the most Izaya has ever hated Shizuo. This is the most hate Izaya thinks he's capable of.
Still, he isn't making himself known.
Shizuo passes by with Tom and Vorona, still chuckling about something Izaya didn't hear. All of them are in their own little bubble, and to anyone who didn't know them, they might seem vulnerable. Izaya grins at that, thinks of false perceptions. He really shouldn't interrupt their day, not when there's so much else to do. Shizuo likely wouldn't stop chasing Izaya for over an hour, and even afterwards, Izaya knows staying in Ikebukuro means Shizuo will keep hunting him. It's better for Shizuo not to know Izaya is even in the city at all.
He steps out onto the sidewalk anyway.
It's an instantaneous reaction. Shizuo's happy, contented expression is replaced entirely, and Izaya knows if nothing else, he's succeeded in ruining Shizuo's morning. Shizuo steps closer, his teeth bared, fists clenched. He growls something, but Izaya barely hears it, doesn't need to. It's the same old song and dance, and Izaya knows it by heart.
He turns and books it, and he can tell without looking back that Shizuo is hot on his heels. It's strange, really, that his least favorite person— monster— is always the one who makes Izaya feel most alive. It's probably an animal instinct, something leftover from the past. Shizuo is a predator, after all, another breed entirely. More than that, he's fun. Shinra has mentioned, more than once, that goading Shizuo is akin to self-destructive behavior on Izaya's part, but then what does that make it for Shizuo?
“Getting distracted, flea?!” Shizuo shouts, and Izaya cackles as he dodges whatever it was Shizuo just threw. “You're slow today!”
“Faster than Shizu-chan all the same,” Izaya mutters to himself. He hasn't been sleeping well, which isn't anything new. He's got so much work to do, took on a lot at once, maybe too much. Izaya has always had a hard time sitting still, but at some point he's forgotten how to stop. It's unfortunate he ran into Shizuo today, but what was he supposed to do? Leave Shizuo in peace? Never.
He's propelling himself forward, and he thinks he's finally gaining enough momentum to lose Shizuo, but what he loses is something much more significant. He hears a honking, some shouts, a woman screaming. He feels pain all over, and then his vision goes black.
***
When he comes to, no time seems to have passed. He tastes blood in his mouth and realizes he bit his tongue when he fell. He's flat on his back, concrete smooth against his palms, and he blinks stars out of his vision as he realizes Shizuo is on top of him.
“Oi. You okay? Flea?” Shizuo holds up a hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“None?” Izaya asks. He coughs a bit, choking on blood and saliva. He bit his tongue hard. “You're just— it's just a fist.”
Shizuo leans back, eyeing him. His phone is in his other hand. “I'm gonna call Shinra.”
“Don't bother, I'm fine. Fuck...” Izaya looks around. A crowd has gathered, circling them, and Izaya thinks of sharks in the water. “I can walk.”
“Your head's bleeding.”
“Was I hit?” Izaya asks. He looks around for a truck, but he never saw what it looked like.
“No,” Shizuo says. He holds his phone up to his ear, and Izaya realizes Shizuo is calling Shinra anyway. “You weren't hit.”
Izaya barely registers Shizuo's conversation with Shinra. He's foggy, unsure of details, and his head is pounding. He presses his hand into his hair and winces as pain shoots through him. When he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.
“I can walk,” Izaya says again. His legs seem to be fine, everything seems to be fine. It's just his head that's hurting, and Izaya has been concussed before. He stands and wobbles a bit, and Shizuo is on his feet in an instant.
“Izaya, stop. You're hurt.”
“I wasn't hit,” Izaya argues. “Did you save me?”
Shizuo glares at him before barking something else into the phone, and Izaya finds himself lowering back to the ground. His stomach is uneasy, and everything about this feels wrong somehow, like he's not in the right place or time. He draws his knees up and rests his head against them, feeling like he's dreaming.
Shinra arrives pretty fast. He's babbling something about already being in the area, and then he's pressing his fingers roughly into Izaya's hair and over the growing lump. Izaya hisses in pain and jolts back. Shinra laughs.
“You're fine if you can complain, Izaya-kun!”
“I don't think that's how pain works,” Izaya mutters. He's noticed that Shizuo is still standing off to the side, smoking as he observes.
“You should come over. You'll need monitoring.” Shinra checks over the rest of Izaya before deeming him fit enough to be moved. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Izaya snaps, but when he stands, his legs feel like jelly. “I already said I could.” He winds up blacking out before he can take a step.
***
As it turns out, it is a concussion, a pretty bad one. His head ends up needing stitches, and Izaya is surly and irritated by the time Shinra is finally leaving him alone. Shinra's guest bed isn't comfortable, but the room is quiet and private. Izaya wonders if Shizuo is still out there with Shinra and Celty, but then he decides he doesn't want to know the answer.
It's hard to focus at all, but time is definitely passing. Izaya keeps dozing off and waking to different lighting in the room, usually to Shinra jabbing him. It takes a while for Izaya to feel up for talking, but when he does, he blurts out the only thing he can think of.
“Shizu-chan saved my life, didn't he?”
Shinra hums and writes something down on a chart.
“He did. Tackled you right out of the way from an incoming truck.”
Izaya frowns and tries to make sense of that answer.
“What's wrong? Unhappy you were saved by Shizuo-kun? Or just unhappy you were saved?” Shinra asks, and he grins as he plops into the seat next to the bed. “You should be grateful. You probably would've died if you were struck.”
“Don't tell me how to feel about my own mortality,” Izaya says. “It's rude.”
“You've always called him a monster, but he was human enough to save you! Maybe this is your new lease on life. You can become a better person,” Shinra quips.
“Does that mean I'll finally get better friends?”
“Maybe! I don't have any intention of changing, though.”
“Of course not.” Izaya grins and covers his eyes with his hands, rubbing at them as incredulous laughter escapes him. “Fuck. This can't be real, right? Shizu-chan saving me?”
“He's a good person,” Shinra says, and he swats at Izaya when Izaya just laughs harder. “I mean it!”
“He's barely a person at all.” Izaya uncovers his face and stares listlessly up at the ceiling again. Where does this leave him? Should he thank Shizuo, be indebted to him? Should he stop trying to make Shizuo's life a living hell?
“What are you thinking about?” Shinra asks, and he smiles when Izaya turns to him.
“I didn't ask him to save me.”
Shinra sighs and leans onto the bed, his hand tugging at Izaya's sleeve.
“I'm not saying you should thank him or anything. He'd probably be mad if you did, actually. But maybe just try and hate him a little less, huh? I think you can do that much.”
“Maybe I can't,” Izaya says. “Maybe seeing him as anything other than a monster is a fate worse than death. Maybe this was his plan all along, to torture me.”
“You're being dramatic. Now I know you're fine!”
They wind up playing cards. Izaya's headache is at a tolerable level, due to the pills Shinra gave him. Shinra's presence is warm and welcome, and Izaya's chest aches with how much he's missed this, playing a game with somebody. Usually he's alone, a master of solitaire and his own games, but this is better, much better, seeing Shinra get so competitive and bent out of shape about losing. Izaya considers letting Shinra win a hand, but thinks better of it. Shinra is an even worse sore winner than loser.
“I can leave tomorrow, right?” Izaya asks.
“I don't see why not. You're conscious and alert, no signs of brain damage.” Shinra shows his hand, a full house. He's beaming. “I win!”
“Finally,” Izaya says, bemused. “Here I was thinking that playing alone would be more of a challenge.”
“Liar,” Shinra says, already shuffling the cards. “You look far too happy to be thinking mean things about me.”
Izaya joins Shinra for dinner at the table. Neither Celty nor Shizuo are in the apartment, which Izaya is grateful for. He's not ready to face Shizuo, and he isn't in the mood to deal with Celty pestering him about being nicer to Shizuo from now on. Shinra serves some fried rice with vegetables, nothing fancy, but Izaya eats ravenously, remembering he hasn't had food all day.
“I wonder what's keeping Celty,” Shinra says after a few minutes of quiet.
“She's probably off with Shizuo, both of them discussing what a saint he is for saving my life,” Izaya mutters around his chopsticks.
“Mm, maybe. She keeps odd hours, after all. I love having her with me all the time, but just thinking about our reunion makes me so giddy! I can't wait for her to come back!”
Izaya rolls his eyes and then winces. He rubs at the bandage covering his head.
“Are you in pain?” Shinra asks.
“It's fine, really. It's going to hurt for a while. I think it's the stitches more than the injury.”
“It was a pretty bad injury. You really hit your head hard.”
“So you've said,” Izaya says, letting his hand fall. “Like I said, it's fine.”
“It's unlike you to be so clumsy. I expect Shizuo running into things, but you're usually more careful,” Shinra says, and Izaya nods.
“I've been a little under the weather. I shouldn't have provoked Shizuo today.”
“You shouldn't provoke him at all!” Shinra laughs. “A concussion is less than you deserve.”
“Second chances, and all. I suppose next time I get Shizuo hit by a truck, I'll be more sympathetic to his plight. After all, he saved my life.” Izaya takes another bite of food and then looks up at Shinra. “Have you got any sake?”
“I do, but you can't have any. You're concussed.”
“Worth a try,” Izaya laments, leaning back in his chair.
“I mean it, Izaya-kun,” Shinra starts, and Izaya waves him away.
“I get it, no drinking—“
“Not that,” Shinra interrupts. “I mean about Shizuo-kun. This fight really needs to end before someone gets killed. You came close today.”
Izaya sighs. “Freak accidents happen every day. It doesn't matter what I was doing before it happened to me. For all we know, it still might've happened.”
“Doesn't mean you should further your chances.”
“Why not? I'm a good gambler.” Izaya smirks, but he softens when Shinra keeps giving him a hard stare. “What do you care for, anyway? You've never minded our feud before, aside from your desire for us all to be friends.”
“I mind it! I've always minded it! I don't want either of you to die. It seemed kind of...playful, for a while, but you're both getting worse all the time.”
“Playful,” Izaya scoffs. “We've been trying to kill each other. This isn't anything new.”
“It is, and you know it. You're both out for blood all the time now. I'm so glad Shizuo-kun saved you today. He could've let you get hit, but he didn't. It gives me hope that you two could be—“
“Stop it,” Izaya says sharply. “I mean it. I don't want to talk about him anymore.”
“Izaya-kun.” Shinra is giving him an imploring stare, his jaw set. “No one is going to make the two of you be friends, but can't you at least consider not being his enemy?”
“No,” Izaya spits vehemently. “I can't consider that, and I won't. This isn't some stupid rivalry that's going to end from one act of selflessness. It's not that simple, for him or for me, and I'm sure he'll tell you the same.”
“Saving a life isn't just an act of selflessness, Izaya-kun. It's more than that! Don't you know how much a life is worth?” Shinra's stern gaze turns into something else. “Or is it just because it's your own life that you don't see it?”
“For fuck's sake,” Izaya groans. He puts his head into his hands. “You never know when to quit. I already said this was a pointless discussion, and you're still beating the dead horse into the ground.”
“I'm determined,” Shinra says. “Finish eating before it gets cold. And think about what I said before you just brush it off! I really think you two would be good for each other.”
Izaya doesn't respond because there's no point. No matter what he says, Shinra will always be trying to get him to make amends with Shizuo, and in a weird way, Izaya is grateful for Shinra's tenacity. Shinra is a selfish idiot, but he's the only person in Izaya's life who actually cares about him. He's the only one who would play cards with him on his sickbed, anyway.
“Did you call your sisters?” Shinra asks as he clears the table. Izaya gets up to help, not wanting to be a rude house guest.
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“Well, you almost died,” Shinra says, and Izaya chuckles, thinking to himself that it's really not as big a deal as Shinra is making it out to be. No one cared when he was stabbed, after all.
“I have no intention of telling them. They'd only use the information as an excuse to attack me, you know? Mairu really has it out for me these days.”
“You have a strange relationship with them. Have you meddled so much in their lives that they don't like you now? Maybe you should ease up a bit, and I'm sure they'll forgive you.” Shinra washes the dishes, and Izaya dries them with a fluffy towel. A bright cursive 'C' is printed on the towel, and Izaya shakes his head at it.
“It's not that. We just don't get along well. I'm sure they blame me for...certain aspects of themselves, and they're right to. I was never a very good parental figure.” Izaya stacks the dry plates together, unsure of which cabinet they go in. He doesn't come here enough to know where things go.
“You did the best you could,” Shinra says with a shrug. “When they get older, I'm sure they'll realize that.”
Izaya highly doubts it. He always took care of their physical needs, but when it came to emotional availability, he was out of it. He never understood their mood swings and their tantrums, and he didn't really try to. Their parents are painfully ordinary people, so the twins got every bit of their eccentricities from Izaya, who didn't think anything of it at the time. It makes sense for them to hate him. He doesn't take it personally.
He goes back to the guest bedroom after Shinra disappears to shower. There aren't any messages on Izaya's phone, not even from clients. Things are quiet tonight, and Izaya is grateful for it. He doesn't feel well enough to spend energy on getting involved in anything.
He dozes fitfully. He's tired, but different parts of him hurt enough to where he keeps waking up. He can't get comfortable on this shitty bed. He needs to remind himself to bully Shinra into getting another mattress, or at least a mattress cover. Izaya longs for his own bed, his own place, but there is a certain comfort in knowing Shinra is right in the other room, within earshot. Izaya doesn't have that at home.
By morning, Izaya is warm under the covers, and for all it's flaws, Izaya doesn't want to leave the bed. He forces himself upright, and when he pads into the living room, Celty is on the couch, her helmet off. Still, he can tell she's looking right at him. She holds up her PDA.
“You look funny all bandaged up.”
“Thanks,” he says. “Make fun of the mortal for injuries. How cruel of you.”
“Any lasting damage?” she asks.
“I doubt it. I'm nothing if not resilient. I probably won't have work for you for a few days. Things are strangely quiet, and I should rest anyhow. Phone screens are hurting my head.”
She lowers her PDA almost sheepishly, and he finds himself laughing at her.
“It's fine, really. I appreciate the concern.”
“Are you going to thank Shizuo for what he did?” Her shadows are swirling pensively. Izaya knew this was coming.
“Nope!” he says, and she shoves the screen in his face.
“?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!”
“I didn't ask him to save me, now did I? Besides, can you imagine what he'd say if I thanked him for anything, ever? He'd probably kill me then and there.” Izaya backs away from her and fetches his coat from the rack. “Believe me, pretending it never happened is what we both want.”
“You're wrong.” she types, and he ignores it.
“Tell Shinra I'll see him around,” he says as he exits the apartment. He's ready to be in his own bed, maybe call Namie over to wait on him. She'll hate him even more for it, but she cooks pretty well, and he actually likes her company. It's refreshing to be around people so openly hostile. They rarely hide what they're thinking.
Throughout the day, everything is painfully normal and boring. Aside from the twinges of pain he feels, Izaya thinks to himself it's almost like nothing happened at all. He contacts a few of his clients and asks for an extension, calls Shiki to check in and let him know he'll be resting for a bit, but will be ready for more work soon enough. When Namie comes, Izaya pesters her until she cooks, and she even joins him for dinner, though she says it's just because she's starving.
That night, Izaya sleeps well, though he has odd dreams, which is a normal occurrence for him. He dreams of the twins and himself, all young, together in that house. In the dream, he's trying to spend time with them, but they keep going off by themselves, laughing at him for even attempting to make a connection. No matter what he tries, he feels miles away, and in the end, he relents, leaving them alone until they both vanish. He wakes with a pit in his stomach, a feeling that something is very wrong, even if he can't place it.
He calls for Namie, but he knows she won't answer. It's daylight now, early morning, and she's long gone, clocked out on the time clock he installed just to annoy her. He looks up at his ceiling, remembering the dream. It's like a bad taste in his mouth, something that lingers despite his attempts to get rid of it. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, feeling like something is incredibly wrong, but unable to place exactly what it is.
He showers, forces himself to calm down. Nothing is any different from normal, and no matter what happens, being uneasy won't solve anything. He has so much to worry about already, especially knowing other people saw him injured on the sidewalk with Shizuo lingering over him. He considers messaging Shizuo, ridiculing him for stepping in, but he decides better of it. Izaya is too out of it to run from Shizuo right now, or anytime soon. He'll save it for later.
It's not until Namie is near him, clacking away at her own laptop, that Izaya says anything about it.
“I had a weird dream.” He looks up at her. She pauses from her typing, looks up at him with a deadpan expression.
“Okay. And?” she asks. He laughs, pushes his keyboard away before responding.
“It was about my sisters,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.
“I thought you said you didn't care about them very much?”
“I don't. It's just... A lot has happened,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.
“Do you want their sympathy? You had a near-death experience. Did you want them to dote on you?” Namie is amused, grinning at him. Izaya shakes his head.
“It's not that. I always have weird dreams, you know? Sometimes I can fall asleep early like a normal person, but when I'm out of it, I see all kinds of things. I guess this one just stuck with me. It seems ominous, kind of. It made me feel...like something is going to happen soon.”
“Like a premonition?” Namie asks, and her playful expression is gone.
“Maybe? I... I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm bringing this up. I've had much weirder dreams in the past. I guess this one just felt different.” Izaya groans before rubbing at his bandage.
“Feelings are enough,” Namie says, and when she meets Izaya's gaze, she is sincere. “I mean it. If you think something is wrong, maybe something really is wrong.”
“You're being awfully engaging today, Namie-chan,” Izaya says, and she shrugs.
“They're your sisters. I understand how it feels to worry about family.” Her expression changes, and Izaya has no doubt she's thinking of Seiji. He makes a face and tries to get back to work, but he still feels off, a little nauseous, too. He's never felt this bad after a head injury before, and he considers calling Shinra, but it's entirely possible he was coming down with a stomach virus before he got hurt. He hasn't felt his best for a few days now.
“I think I'm going to nap,” he says after a while, and Namie glances back at him.
“Nap? You?”
“I feel gross.” Izaya stretches before standing. He pads over to the stairs. “You can go home, if you want. It was stupid of me to try to work today. Sorry to make you come over at all.”
“And now you're apologizing to me? How hard were you hit, anyway?” Namie asks, and she's grinning. Izaya rolls his eyes at her.
“It won't happen again,” he promises, and he starts climbing the stairs. Namie clears her throat.
“Do you need anything before I go?” she asks, and he's a little stunned. Usually she's out the door like a shot the second she learns she can leave for the day. As it is, she's looking at him with a neutral expression, but Izaya thinks she seems a little concerned.
“I still have leftovers from yesterday. I think I have a stomach virus, anyway. I doubt I'll eat much of anything.” He rubs at his stitches. They're really itchy, and underneath there is a constant, throbbing pain.
“Do you have medicine here?” Namie asks, and Izaya snorts.
“I have my own little pharmacy, courtesy of Shinra. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned about me!” Izaya grins at her, waiting for her to argue with him, but she just keeps looking up at him with furrowed brows.
“You don't seem well,” she says, and he frowns. “You look like you're going to keel over.”
“I plan to collapse right into bed. I'm fine, really. Go home, Namie-chan, I don't know what to make of you being nice to me.” He turns and heads back for his room, and he can hear Namie moving around below. He's too tired to make her leave, and really, she has a key. She can come and go when she pleases. He closes his eyes and drifts off to the sound of her footsteps.
When he wakes, his head is buried in his arms, and he realizes he's at his desk. He bolts upright, his eyes wide as he looks around. Namie is looking at him scathingly, as if he's purposely annoying her.
“Bad dream?” she asks.
“I thought I...went to bed. I went upstairs. Didn't I?” he asks, and she raises an eyebrow.
“You said you were tired and fell asleep right there. Now that you're awake, though, can I go?” Namie is already standing, and Izaya blinks up at her. His head is throbbing.
“Did we talk at all? I mentioned my sisters...”
“Your sisters?” Namie asks, pausing in gathering her things. “You never talk about them. Why would you start now?”
“Was it all a dream?” Izaya asks. He feels queasy. He needs to call Shinra.
“You're dreaming about mundane conversations with me? Wow. Here I thought an eccentric like you would have a more colorful subconscious,” Namie quips. She pulls her jacket on and heads to the door. “You have leftovers in the fridge. Don't call me unless you're dying.”
“Well that sounds more like you,” Izaya mutters to himself, waving her out. Once he's alone, he stands and immediately groans in pain before flopping back into the chair. His stomach lurches, and he doesn't know if he'll make it to the bathroom. He sits as still as he can while waiting for the vertigo and nausea to pass, and when he can move again, he grabs his phone and calls Shinra.
“Izaya-kun! I'm having dinner with Celty!” Shinra says as soon as he answers, and Izaya sighs.
“Sorry, I think maybe— Wait, dinner? It's so early,” Izaya says, and Shinra doesn't reply. “Hello?”
“Did you need something or can I hang up?” Shinra asks.
“My head— I think something's wrong. I feel terrible and I'm nauseous.”
“That's normal. You were rattled around, you know? It was a big truck.”
“The truck didn't hit me.”
“Right, right, but Shizuo-kun has more strength than a truck. Either way, just take it easy. You'll feel better soon, but you have to actually take care of yourself. Have you eaten today?” Shinra asks.
“No. I feel like I'll throw it up.”
“You've probably got low blood sugar. Eat something and lounge around, and if it doesn't subside by tomorrow, I'll come by.”
“I'm having trouble telling what's real,” Izaya blurts, and there's a pause before Shinra bursts out laughing.
“I'm not that kind of doctor, Izaya-kun!”
“It's because of my head injury, you idiot!” Izaya snaps, and Shinra keeps laughing.
“I'm sorry. It's normal to have some fogginess. You hit your head hard, and you aren't taking care of your body. Just relax and stay inside tonight. You don't want to pass out in the middle of the city. I'll come check on you tomorrow, okay?”
“Right. Okay.” Izaya hangs up then. He knows Shinra is right. He forces himself to the fridge, and he heats up the food Namie made the day before. He's nibbling at it, already feeling better when his phone rings again. It's Shiki, and he frowns, not understanding why Shiki is calling his personal phone and not his work phone.
“Hello, Shiki-san! What can I do for you?” Izaya answers.
“Izaya-san, I'm sorry,” Shiki says. “Are you home? Are you safe?”
“I'm fine. Yes, I'm home— Is something wrong?” Izaya asks. There's static for a moment, and then Shiki's voice is louder, and it sounds almost like Shiki is right next to him.
“We were worried about you. I'm glad you're safe.”
“We spoke yesterday, right?” Izaya asks. How much of that did he dream? Shiki sighs in his ear.
“Yes, but something has happened. Unfortunately, nothing could be done, and... Izaya-san, it's your sisters.”
“My sisters...” Izaya murmurs. He rubs at his head.
“They're dead.”