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Izaya lit up when he heard a gunshot ring from a nearby alleyway. He heard shouting, as well, then a van drive off as he started making his way to the source of the sound.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to find — since that was always the allure — but it certainly wasn’t Shizuo.
He chuckled and walked over. There’s no way a gunshot would take out the monster.
“So—” He kicked Shizuo over so that he was facing the sky. “—Someone finally got to you, huh, Shizu-chan?”
“Piss off,” Shizuo weakly cursed. “Fleabag.” His voice was in and out, breaking in places where it shouldn’t.
“Looks like a gunshot could get even you, huh?” Izaya clicked his tongue.
When will these people learn that he’s the one who’s supposed to kill him? There was a reason why Shizuo wasn’t on any hitlists.
He pulled out his phone. Shizuo was still in a daze, so he didn’t seem to notice.
Shinra picked up. “Hello?”
“I’ll be over in half an hour, at most.” Izaya said, straight to the point.
“You’re lucky,” Shinra said, and Izaya could hear him lean back in his chair. “I just got home.”
“Good.” Izaya said. “Stay there,”
“What happened—”
And before he could finish, Izaya flipped his phone shut.
He spotted Shizuo’s and pocketed that.
“Come on, you monster.” Izaya said, crouching over Shizuo with his hand outstretched. “Let’s go.”
“Why are you helping me,” Shizuo asked, more like a statement than a question.
The better answer would’ve been I don’t need to answer to you. Instead, Izaya replied with, “Because I want to see what happens when a thing like you gets shot,”
Shizuo eyed him, but took his hand. “Whatever.”
He made Shizuo sit up against the nearby wall. Why the hell was he doing this? He clicked his tongue again.
“I’m taking off your vest.” He said, moving to unbutton it.
“Why.” Shizuo didn’t — or couldn’t — resist.
“You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t use it as a bandage.” Izaya said, taking it off of the monster. “I’m gonna rip it in half and use one for each.”
“Kasuka got me that,” Shizuo said, watching as Izaya ripped the vest in half.
“That’s never stopped you from ruining it before.” Izaya said, placing one half of the vest on the ground. He started tying the other half around Shizuo’s leg.
“Never been on purpose.”
Izaya hummed, tightening the knot. Shizuo didn’t react. Either shock or his usual lack of pain receptors. Probably both. He started tying the other half around the lower part of Shizuo’s torso.
A silence pierced the air as Izaya worked, and Shizuo’s labored breathing and cloth rubbing against each other were the only things that interrupted it. Izaya was sick of it.
He finished the knot and moved to help Shizuo up. Why was he doing this?
Shizuo always wondered what it would be like to get shot, and in his imagination, it would hurt a lot more than it did. In his imagination, Izaya never helped him. In fact, it was usually him behind the trigger during these hypothetical scenarios.
Shizuo looked over at Izaya, who was helping him walk. Why? Why would Izaya do anything like this?
“You’re not gonna try to kill me?” He asked.
Izaya laughed. “I like to stay unpredictable,”
Shizuo squinted. Wait. He noticed that his glasses had a crack in them. “Those little shits.”
“Hm?”
“Look.” Shizuo pointed at his glasses with the hand that wasn’t around Izaya’s shoulders. (Which was something he could never imagine happening, and yet.)
“You can get new ones,” Izaya said.
“Kasuka got me these,” Shizuo said, anger seeping into his voice, mixing with the exhaustion. “And the whole outfit. The next time I see those fuckers, they’re dead.”
Izaya hummed again. “Your little brother is an interesting one, you know,”
“Don’t try it.”
“I’m merely stating the obvious,” He said, and Shizuo wanted to punch him. “He seems so monotone in his interviews, yet so enthusiastic in his roles — like a complete opposite of you, Shizu-chan.”
“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?” Shizuo asked, again laced with a threat.
“I’ve lost count,” Izaya said. “Turn this corner here. But I believe ever since the first time I said it,”
“Must’ve been in highschool,”
“Stating the obvious,” Izaya said, to which Shizuo didn’t reply.
Shizuo got to thinking. He felt the pocketknife hidden in Izaya’s coat pocket. It was brushing against his side now and then.
He and Izaya met in their first year of highschool, after both being childhood friends with Shinra. Izaya caught him in a bad mood, and in the heat of the moment, Shizuo’s temper took over.
“I’m—” Should he even say it? The fleabag didn’t deserve this much. He trailed off.
“You’re what?” Izaya asked, and Shizuo wondered why Izaya was interested in anything Shizuo had to say. Didn’t he love humans? And wasn’t Shizuo exempt from that? Izaya’s made it clear that he doesn’t see Shizuo as anything but an unnatural monster, so why did they always encounter each other?
Shizuo bit back his pride for just a second. Izaya’s saving his life right now. He could pay the fleabag back with at least this.
“…I’m sorry.” He said. “About when we first met.”
“What do you mean by that?” Izaya played, always on the edge of pissing Shizuo off.
“The first thing I ever said to you, do you remember?”
“You said “I don’t like you,” and attacked me.” Izaya recounted. “I remember it well,”
“I was in a bad mood,” Shizuo explained. “I’m… sorry.”
In almost ten years of knowing Shizuo Heiwajima, Izaya had barely ever heard an apology spill from his lips, and none of them had ever been to him.
Izaya didn’t know what to say — what does one say when their nemesis suddenly apologizes? — so he stayed silent for a second.
“It’s just,” It seemed that Shizuo wanted to continue. Izaya let him. “Ever since that day, and since our first fight, I’ve always thought, “what if we didn’t start that way?” Like, what if I had calmed down for a second to introduce myself properly, or if Shinra had picked a better time to introduce us, or if I apologized sooner?”
Izaya saw a bench up ahead. He could set Shizuo down there and listen. He didn’t like this side of him. It was so… human.
After all, he shouldn’t be the one apologizing. If anyone had anything to apologize for, it would be Izaya.
“I know we can’t go back in time and redo everything — hell, if we could, I would’ve done it a long time ago — that we did and said to each other, but I still think about it.” Shizuo took a shaky breath in and out. During the conversation, Izaya forgot that he had been fucking shot. “I still wonder what could’ve happened if—”
Izaya sat him down on the bench. The lamplight fell on Shizuo, making Izaya see how bad his wounds really were.
“—If we were friends.”
Okay, the gunshot was definitely affecting him mentally. Izaya stared at Shizuo, hands in the pockets of his coat. Shizuo took his glasses off and placed them in his pant pocket; but not before his muscle memory kicked in, and he tried putting them in his now-nonexistent breast pocket.
Izaya always found that to be a symbolic gesture, like he was keeping his little brother close to his heart. He could never imagine doing something so sentimental regarding his younger sisters. And he hated Shizuo for it.
Instead of saying what he was really thinking, Izaya deflected. That’s how they were, after all. That’s how he was. “As if I’d ever be friends with a monster like you,”
Shizuo exhaled again, this time with a hint of frustration. “Are we gonna head to Shinra’s or not?”
Hell, Izaya was already here. What could another hour do? “Might as well.”
Shizuo was still thinking as he and Izaya crept closer to Shinra’s building. Did he really want to reconcile? With Izaya, of all people?
“You know,” Izaya started the conversation this time. Shizuo tilted his head towards him. “It may have passed through my mind once in a while,”
Shizuo furrowed his brow.
“Us being… less than nemeses.” Idiot couldn’t even say it.
“Is that why you helped me?” Shizuo asked.
Izaya paused, and for a moment, the void of human voices was filled with shoes on asphalt, the buzz of electricity, and Shizuo’s labored breathing. He didn’t know he sounded that bad.
“I’m not sure why I decided to help you,” Izaya decided to say, and Shizuo honestly couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “I don’t know why I’m still helping you, but at the very least, Shinra should see this.”
“See what?”
“Me carrying you.” Izaya said, a smirk playing on his face. “His reactions will be amusing, at least.”
Shizuo sighed. Of course. He didn’t know why he expected anything else.
“You’re barely carrying me,” He pointed out.
“It’s not my fault you shrug away from me every chance you get,” Izaya rolled his eyes.
Every footstep they got closer to Shinra’s, Izaya could see more and more of Shizuo’s humanity. And he hated it. He hated Shizuo’s fucking guts. Why was he doing this? The answer he gave Shizuo was only a bit of a joke, and he mostly said it because he didn’t wanna say what was really on his mind.
It just occurred to Izaya that this was the longest conversation he and Shizuo had ever had, and it wasn’t going to end with a brawl and heavy property damage. He looked over at Shizuo, and he noticed that his roots were growing out, his hair finally deciding to show its true colors after about a decade of being damaged by bleach.
“Your hair needs a touch-up.” Izaya said. Why in the name of hell did he want to keep the conversation going?
“I’ve been meaning to get to it.” Shizuo replied. “Tonight, actually. But, well, you know.” He gestured to his gunshot wounds.
Izaya hummed. “Maybe you could get Shinra to do it,” He suggested. “Or Celty.”
“Maybe you should stick it up your ass,” Shizuo said. “Shinra’s gonna be stitching me up and I’m not sure Celty knows how hair dye works.” He stretched his neck. “Jeez. You know, if we were friends, I’d ask you to do it.”
Again with the hypotheticals.
And yet.
“You know,” Izaya started. “If we were friends, I would.”
An image popped into Shizuo’s head. An image of a better world.
In this better world, he, Shinra, Celty, Tom, and Izaya were cramped in Shizuo’s bathroom, everyone taking turns with a bowl and brush as Shizuo complained about how shitty they were with box dye. Tom was the only one who was semi-decent with it, and Izaya kept intentionally messing up. Shizuo threw the empty cardboard box at him, and he dodged, leaving a small crack in the bathroom tile.
In this better world, they had all been friends since highschool, and were known to be with each other quite a lot.
In this better world, there weren’t many pulled-up street signs or thrown vending machines. The streets weren’t under repair as often, and Ikebukuro was only a little less chaotic.
In this better world, Shizuo and Izaya didn’t think about their first meeting as much as they did in this one.
Shizuo snapped back to reality and looked over at Izaya. Their gazes met, and Shizuo saw something unfamiliar in Izaya’s expression.
What was it?
He was making a realization, that was for sure. Good or bad, though, he couldn’t guess.
Shizuo opened his mouth to speak, then realized he didn’t know what he was gonna say, so he shut it.
He tore his gaze away from Izaya and looked ahead. “There it is.”
Izaya followed his eyeline and chuckled. “Shinra’s about to be in for a surprise.”
“I almost feel bad for the guy,”
“But?”
“But then I remember that he’s a pervert.”
“Always has been, always will be,” Izaya said with poorly-feigned disinterest.
Suddenly, Shizuo was curious. “What do you think about him?”
“Why do you care?”
“Are you gonna answer the question or not?”
Izaya stopped walking for a bit. They were only a few feet away from the building entrance.
“He doesn’t have any kind of interest in humans,” He said. Shizuo listened. “Even though he proposed we start a Biology Club in middle school, it never went to humans, really. It was all general science, and I was just there for the ride — he piqued my interest because he wasn’t like anyone I’ve ever known before.”
“Which means?”
“He wanted to…” This seemed like a struggle for him to say. “…Genuinely try to talk to me. Not in the usual way, where someone would try to spark up some useless small talk in a futile attempt to get to know me,” There it was. The superiority complex. “But he said that he’d ask me every single day until I said yes. And after I did, he just… stuck around.”
Shizuo could see the point he was getting to, and he let Izaya come to it himself.
“I think…” Izaya pushed open the door and guided Shizuo through. “…He’s the only friend I’ve ever really had.”
And all of a sudden, Shizuo realized what he was feeling during their entire encounter.
Pity.
Izaya Orihara made a realization that night. It was that maybe, just maybe, he and Shizuo Heiwajima could’ve been really good friends; if only they’d started trying sooner.
The elevator doors closed and Izaya let Shizuo go. The brute leaned against the bars for support. Izaya examined the buttons and pressed the one to Shinra’s floor. He caught Shizuo’s reflection in the warped metal door. He looked both better and worse, like something in him was at ease now. Izaya wondered if the gunshot was like a sedative to someone — something — like Shizuo.
He’d said too much. About himself, about Shinra.
As much as he wanted to stay silent for the rest of the night, there was something in him, some gut feeling, that told him to keep talking.
“And you?” He asked. “What do you think about him?”
Shizuo thought about it for a second. The elevator dinged. They were here.
Izaya let Shizuo lean on him again (Why was he doing this?) and they walked out into the hallway.
“He’s a friend of mine.” Shizuo said. “He’s a good doctor. He’s a pervert. He’s in love with Celty. But he’s been there for me. He’s one of the oldest friends I’ve had — probably the oldest, since I’d count Kasuka as my oldest friend.”
Izaya hated this side of Shizuo.
And he hated how good he was with people, with friends, and especially with family.
He rang the doorbell.
“Well.” He said, a smirk playing on his face. “He’s in for a good surprise.”
The doorbell finally rang. That idiot was late! How could he!
He ran to open the door. “Do you know how late you are—”
What stood.
Was a sight.
That only first-year Shinra Kishitani could dream of. This was not something that happened in real life.
He exploded into barely-coherent babbles, his mind moving thousands of kilometers a second.
“You’re loud.” Shizuo complained, he and Izaya (a phrase he never thought he’d say) pushed past him and walked into the living room.
Izaya chuckled as Shinra had an aneurysm behind them.
“I-Is everything alright?” A kid appeared, a teenager with glasses who Shizuo was sure he’d met before. “A-ah!”
“Oh, hey,” He greeted. “You’re that one kid, uh—”
“—Anri Sonohara.” Izaya finished for him.
“Sorry.” Shizuo said. “I’m not good with names.”
Izaya brought him over to the couch and sat him down. Shizuo put his hands over its back. “Oh, is Celty not home?”
Anri shook her head.
“Also, why are you here?” He asked. “Don’t tell me that pervert’s doing something weird.”
“Now, now, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, and this time, his voice didn’t piss him off all that much. “Shinra’s many things, but he’s not a pedophile.”
That seemed to snap Shinra to attention. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just said that you weren’t a pedophile.” Izaya said. “That’s the closest you’ll get to a compliment,”
“Ugh,” Shinra got his kit and moved towards Shizuo. “Anyway, what happened here? A-and why are you two here together?”
“I was shot.”
“Obviously,” Izaya interrupted.
“Die.” Shizuo shot back. “Izaya happened to be there. Honestly, he could’ve watched it all go down, as far as I know.”
“You have such a low opinion of me, Shizu-chan,”
“Can you blame me?”
“I suppose you have a point there,”
Shinra watched the back-and-forths go down, like he was watching two lions fight at a zoo. “Who did it?”
“I wasn’t able to see their faces,” Shizuo said. “But they were a couple guys. And they’re dead, and so is the guy who called the hit.”
He let his anger seep in, keeping it together just enough so the kid won’t be scared off.
“Masaomi Kida is one dead bitch!” He yelled, punching his open palm.
Izaya broke the silence first. “How interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” The brute quickly and sharply turned his head to meet his gaze. Izaya decided to set his eyes on Anri, both of them knowing what it meant.
“Masaomi Kida,” Izaya started. “Is one of Anri’s friends, if I’m not mistaken.”
Anri took a step back.
“Oh yeah?” Shizuo asked, his tone softening a bit. He paused, trying to make something up. Izaya could see the cogs turning in his head, attempting to come up with something that wouldn’t scare the teenager.
How was a monster like Shizuo more human than Izaya was? Izaya gritted his teeth.
Before Shizuo could tell Anri his updated plan, she bolted, making her way to the door and, presumably, out of the building.
Izaya sat on a seat across from Shizuo. Shizuo’s phone buzzed from his coat pocket, reminding him of its presence. He ignored it.
“You might’ve scared her,” Shinra said, voicing the thought they all shared.
“Shit,”
Shinra reached for his phone and called Celty.
“Anyway,” Shinra said after finishing up Shizuo’s stitches. Shizuo heard Izaya playing with the two bloody bullets that were in a can. “If you were a normal human, I’d tell you to take it easy and get some rest,”
“But?”
“You heal at an exceptionally quicker rate that normal humans, so it’ll take a lot less time to close itself up.” He said. “But still, Shizuo. You should take it easy, even if it’s just for the rest of the night. Do you have anywhere to stay?”
“I have my own apartment, you know.” Shizuo said. “We’re grown adults. It’s not like I have to run home and tell Kasuka why I’m all banged up like this.”
“But you still needed Izaya’s help to get here, right?” Shinra said, and it came off as condescending, even when it was clearly genuine. Shizuo knew what he was getting at.
Shizuo sighed. “I’m not staying over,”
“Please?” Shinra asked. “It’ll be just like in highschool! Izaya?”
Izaya leaned back into the plush couch. “This couch is quite comfy, but I have some business to attend to.”
“Can it wait?” Shinra asked. Wow. He really wanted this to happen. “After all, you still haven’t told me what’s gone on with you two tonight,”
Fuck. Uh, no.
“No.” Shizuo curtly denied. That conversation could come after he and Izaya figured out… all that. “I have to go repay the debt that the guys who shot me gave.”
Even Shinra seemed to understand the thirst for revenge. Or not, and he just knew when to stop pushing it. Either way, he sighed. “Okay, but come visit soon, alright? I worry about you sometimes,”
“I, uh— um.” That took Shizuo by surprise. “Thanks, Shinra. It uh, means a lot.” He meant it genuinely, he really did. But his mouth tripped over itself.
Shinra gave him a weak smile. “Now, don’t you both have something to do?”
Izaya was already putting on his shoes. “Yep! See ya, Shinra,”
Shizuo buttoned his shirt up, just a bit. (The top buttons fell off. He didn’t know how nor why, and especially not when)
“Thanks for everything,” Shizuo said, then followed Izaya out.
“Your shoes!” Shinra yelled.
Shizuo re-entered the apartment and picked up his shoes. “Sorry.”
Shinra gave him a small chuckle and locked the door behind him.
Izaya was in the elevator, holding a button down. “Aren’t you coming?”
The elevator would’ve been eerily quiet if Shizuo weren’t muttering they’re dead, they’re dead, they’re dead, they’re dead over and over. Izaya felt something buzz in his coat pocket and remembered that he still had Shizuo’s phone. He took it out and passed it to the monster without a word.
“Thanks,” Shizuo said, clearly surprised that Izaya had it. He flipped it open and read through a few things, replying furiously to a few. After a few cycles of read, reply, repeat, he closed his phone with a grunt. “Those guys are dead.”
“Hm?” Izaya was playing with his knife when the elevator dinged.
Stepping out first, Shizuo replied with a curt, “Celty just saw those guys. I’ll kill them,”
“While that’d be very entertaining, I’m sure,” Izaya followed, Shizuo holding the building doors open for him for some reason. “Unfortunately, I have some other matters to attend to.”
Shizuo hummed. Izaya stepped out into the brisk night air and watched as he pulled out a cigarette.
“How many of those things can your body take until it ultimately succumbs to lung cancer?” Izaya wondered out loud.
Shizuo took a long drag, exhaling a line of smoke, even and slow. “You piss me off,”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Izaya said.
Shizuo started walking the opposite direction from where Izaya was headed, but he followed anyway. “Actually, I don’t think that’s true,”
Izaya stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t lying back there — he had briefly thought of other possibilities with him and Shizuo — but when the opportunity suddenly passed by him, he stopped short in his tracks. What would he do, if their familiar rivalry was gone? If they had stopped fighting, and they reconciled?
It simply wasn’t conceivable. If Izaya lost his strongest enemy, first off, everything would turn quite a few shades duller. There would be no more surprise attacks from Shizuo, and no one would be Izaya’s equal. (As much as he loathed to admit it.)
“I think,” Shizuo continued, thankfully unaware of what was going on inside Izaya’s brain. “If we were friends, you’d show up for me.”
Izaya jumped and landed on top of a street barricade. “I think you have a very optimistic view of me,”
Shizuo let out a small chuckle, cigarette smoke stuttering out of his mouth too. “Probably, huh?”
They walked, almost side-by-side, in silence, letting Shizuo’s breathing and their footsteps color the night air; letting their thoughts fill their minds, undoubtedly sharing the same line of thought. Izaya jumped up and down street ornaments every now and then, Shizuo pausing to wait for him every time.
Then came the intersection where Izaya had to split away from Shizuo if he wanted to make it in time for his next appointment.
Shizuo took a right, then paused when he realized Izaya wasn’t following. He looked over his shoulder with curiousity.
“Well,” Izaya said, picking his next words carefully. “It’s been…”
“…Yeah.” Shizuo replied, letting his cigarette drop from his lips and grinding it under his foot.
It seems they were both equally confused as to where that night left them.
“I’ll be seeing you, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, turning left.
“Same here, Izaya-kun,” Shizuo said, footsteps already receding.
Something else hung in the air, words that wanted to follow the sentence, but neither of them wanted to say them, whatever they were.
For now, Izaya retreated. And for now, Shizuo let him.
It was only when Shizuo was walking home that night — after cutting a car in fucking half in vicious vindication and letting cops get to those assholes — that he realized that whatever occurred a few hours ago was the first time he and Izaya ever walked away from an encounter with each other without injuries, threats, or an argument. That was the first time they’d ever left each other…
…peacefully.
He stopped in front of his apartment door. There was a small plastic bag. Deliveries were usually made at the ground floor, where everyone’s mailboxes were — so why was this here? He bent down to pick up the bag, a cardboard box in it.
He took out the box, and — to his surprise — it turned out to be a box of hair bleach, with a note taped to the bottom.
Is that offer still up? Along with a phone number.
“Fuckin' fleabag.” Shizuo shook his head and unlocked the door.
He dropped the box on his kitchen counter, staring at it for a bit longer.
With a sigh, all of the common sense left Shizuo’s body. He took out his phone.
Izaya was inspecting the black eye Simon gave him when his phone buzzed with a new text from an unknown number.
It is, actually
He chuckled to himself and could feel Namie’s eyebrow raise from the table over.
He named the contact and typed a text back.
Tomorrow, 7pm?
Shizu-chan: Fine
Izaya felt something shift. He wasn’t sure if it was something literal, under his feet, or something behind his black eye, or something else — an emotion — but it was there.
Something that told him everything changes from here.