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“We wish you were our brother, Shizuo!”
“Shizuo is Nii-san now!”
“Nii-chan, Nii-san”
Izaya’s eyes narrow as he stalks away, their words still echoing in his ears. Not that he cares. Shizuo is welcome to them. He despises the three of them.
Still. It was the first fight with Shizuo, or with anyone, that he had walked away from before it really escalated.
Whatever. He can't let it get to him.
He hears a familiar pair of giggles then. His head jerks up. The sun blinds him, reflected from the buildings, and he has to shield his eyes with his hand.
His sisters are kneeling on the ground in the deserted street, playing with dolls he hasn’t seen since they were about six. He blinks at them. He had no idea how they could have overtaken him so quickly, let alone were the dolls had come from.
“You’re a bit old for that, aren’t you?”
They turn to him in unison and beam identical smiles.
“ ‘Play with us.’
He stares at them as an odd feeling of déjà vu settles over him. He lifts his eyes over their heads, but the street is completely dead. He tries to remember whereabouts they are.
“How did you get here so fast?” he asks. He’d left them with Shizuo, and he’d been walking fast.
They take no notice.
“ ‘Play with us,’ they chime again.
He eyes them warily. He approaches slowly, self-conscious, convinced it’s a trick and they must be filming this, or something, but Mairu only thrusts a doll at him when he lowers himself to he ground.
“You can be Nozomi-chan.”
“Great.”
And so begins a complicated game of boyfriends, shopping, career changes, catfights. As he gets into it, however, he doesn’t think they’ve quite lost their minds. It’s nice. It’s nostalgic. And it’s hilarious. He deliberately misunderstands everything they tell him, to the point of ridiculousness. He feels something very old loosen inside him as they shriek with laughter, his own sides hurting. He’s almost enjoying himself.
The nostalgia of it, sweeter than old books, memories of the three of them crouched on the carpet while their parents were away,they were always away, and it was always dolls.
“Nozomi-chan can’t levitate, Nii-san,” Mairu insists when she can speak, tugging his arm, while Kururi sobs with laughter. “Bring her down.”
“She can’t hear you, she’s levitating,” he says, keeping the doll above his head, and she launches herself at him to wrestle the doll back.
“Hey,” he says, letting her, as her head flops against his shoulder as she giggles. He waits for them to calm down and start setting up another game. “You can still talk to me, you know. If you’re ever worried about something, or, I don’t know, if you just want to talk or something. I don’t know if this…” he gestures vaguely at the dolls littered around them. “Is some kind of cry for help or something?”
They’re ignoring him again.
“Play, Nii-san,” Mairu instructs.
“So you’re all right?” he persists, taking the latest doll off her before it takes his eye out. “Everything’s all right?”
“No, he’s not in this game because it’s only two people,” Kururi says, also ignoring him.
He decides there’s nothing to worry about. They were fine an hour ago, they were fine every time he’s seen them lately. They’re probably just trying to freak him out. Or, maybe they even sensed they’d crossed a line earlier and feel awkward about it.
An hour ago.
He looks up properly and notes with alarm that the sun is setting. He’d been playing with them for half a day. How was that possible?
“How long have we been here?”
Mairu rolls her eyes without looking at him.
“It doesn’t matter, Nii-san.”
“My career is in the gutter if anyone saw me like this,” he says, even though the area is as deserted as it had been all day. It's a little spooky. He can’t even hear the traffic and noise from the rest of the city. He’ll have to remember this little pocket of peace, whever it is exactly.
He settles his weight on his other hand to watch them play. He’s missed them. He’s missed them terribly and he hasn’t even known it.
The two new doll characters have known each other since school and are always fighting. Their parents, siblings, teachers and friends don’t know what to do with them. They don’t fight over anything in particular, like a boy or a competition, they just fight and fight until they’re both exhausted and unhappy.
He only vaguely pays attention to the story at first, but frowns when he starts to catch on.
“Very funny,” he says. “It’s me and Shizu-chan. Good one.”
They take no notice.
“Minori-chan likes Kaori-chan, underneath.”
“She bloody doesn’t.”
“She’s just too scared.”
Kururi chimes in,
“Kaori-chan doesn’t know, but she’s so tired of the fighting. So one night she tries to say something else.”
Izaya laughs uncomfortably. “This is a new turn of events. Lesbian Kimmi dolls?”
They start saying something else, when a noise distracts him. His head jerks up, eying the corner where it came from. It is so tranquil, he struggles to decide whether he’d imagined it or not.
"Did you hear that?"
His sisters take no notice, the game going on beneath him.
“Nii-san,” Mairu complains, when he remains distracted. It could just be a cat, but it makes him nervous even so. He glances down, and finds the two dolls held together in a kiss.
“Yes, lesbian Kimmis live happily ever after, I’m delighted you’re both so liberal and progressive.” He eyes the side street again. “I’ll be right back.”
Something isn’t right. The closer he gets, the more he wants to back off, to get back on the floor and play with them and pretend there’s nothing there. It could be zombies, or Saika, or something he needs to face, having his sisters right behind him. He puts one foot in front of the other as slowly as he can.
Just before he turns the corner, he looks over his shoulder, but they’re both gone, not so much as a doll accessory in sight. He blinks, and turns around fully to scan the road, finding nothing. He tries to dismiss it. His sisters love playing tricks on him, that's all. Nothing to be alarmed about.
His head whips back to the side street when someone calls his name. Someone else is sobbing.
“Please. Please.” Kururi. “Please, Shinra. Keep trying.”
He inches round the corner, sick with dread. Sees himself on his back in the middle of the road. Shinra pumping his chest. His sisters are sobbing on their knees. Shizuo is between them, an arm around either of them, holding them back.
“Give him space,” he is saying.
I’m dead, he realises. That's me, I'm dead, I'm dying or I'm dead.
Below him, Shinra is wet with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. He pauses, his arms going slack on Izaya’s chest. He shakes his head.
“It’s not working.”
Mairu lets out a howl.
“Keep trying,” Kururi begs. “Please, Shinra, keep going, keep going-”
“Keep trying,” Shizuo says. His voice sounds strained, like he's in pain. “Let me help.” He eases the girls behind him and moves forward.
Izaya’s vision blurs as Shizuo leans over him, as he and Shinra fight for him, and next thing he knows his sisters are sobbing in his arms. He hugs them slowly at first, not quite believing they are really there.
“It’s OK,” he hears himself saying, tightening his grip. He closes his eyes and leans into them, shaking with relief. “It’s OK, it’s OK. Everything's OK.”
He strokes their hair until they quieten, still clinging to them. He looks past them to find Shinra leaning against a lamppost, head back, eyes closed with relief. He moves on to Shizuo, who appears to be watching them, only his eyes are not focussed.
“Shinra…?” Izaya says in warning, a moment before the other man collapses on the ground.
He’s conscious by the time the ambulance comes. They both are. He supposes it must almost look like a prank, without a mark on either of them, the car and driver long gone without so much as skidmarks. He listens to Shinra talk to them like it's about someone else. Cardiac arrest. Head trauma. Shock. Shinra goes with him in the ambulance. Shizuo follows with his sisters. They all have to give statements, even though he doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t remember any car. He remembers bickering with Shizuo, his sisters jeers, and stalking off. Only, he had apparently stalked off into the hood of an oncoming car, that hadn’t bothered stopping or even slowing down.
He's lucky, they say. It's a miracle he can walk away with only bruises.
The hospital agrees to let him go. They all take a cab back to Izaya’s. His sisters curl up on the couch at once, like pets, and go to sleep. He brings Shinra and Shizuo some food, and carries his sisters to the spare room one by one as they pick at it. The spare room, where they hadn’t crashed for about a year, where they used to spend most weekends. It is still littered with ponies and, unnervingly, Kimmi dolls, the things they loved when they were eight. He watches them sleep for a while, loving them so much it hurts.
When he’s satisfied they’re content, he goes back downstairs. He leaves their door open so he can hear them. Shinra is asleep in their vacated spot on the couch.
Shizuo is sipping a glass of water at the table. His hand is still shaking.
Their eyes meet.
“You want something stronger?” Izaya produces a bottle of sake from the cupboard, a good one, a present from a client that he hasn’t opened yet.
“That’d be good.”
They have a glass each in companionable silence.
“You’re so calm,” Shizuo says eventually. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Izaya shrugs.
“It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I don’t even remember any car.”
“There was a car,” Shizuo retorts. “I didn’t do it.”
Izaya doesn't argue with him. He goes to get a blanket and covers Shinra with it, who hasn’t moved an inch.
“You can stay the night too if you want,” he offers. “You can have my bed.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“I have a futon somewhere. Don’t worry about it.”
He shows Shizuo to his room.
“It’s big enough," Shizuo says, on seeing the bed. "You should sleep here too.”
Too tired to argue, or to remember where he kept the futon, he agrees. He’s still far too lost for it to feel awkward.
“Thanks for looking after them,” he says, when they're side by side in the dark.
“It’s OK,” Shizuo says. He clears his throat. “I’m really sor- “
“Don’t,” Izaya says. “Seriously. We’ve had plenty of close calls before. And anyway, it wasn’t your fault.”
Shizuo says nothing.
Izaya shifts in bed. His sisters, the dolls. That experience, laughing and fooling around with his sisters in the sun, had felt more real than being hit by the car must have, even though his chest hurts where it had slammed into him.
“How'd you feel?” Shizuo asks.
“OK,” he says, because he thinks this makes more sense than the truth, which was ‘numb,’ or ‘dead.’
He goes downstairs for more water, ends up finishing the whiskey instead.
Shizuo is still awake when he gets back in bed.
“Are you OK?”
“Uh-huh,” he says, trying painstakingly hard to not slur his words. “Are you?”
“Mm. I keep thinking about your sisters. I mean, you never realise how much it hurts everyone else, do you? When something like that happens.”
Izaya says nothing.
“We should really be more careful.”
Izaya swallows.
“Do you want some more whiskey?”
“Huh?”
“I’ve got another bottle.”
“Oh, no. No, thanks.” He shifts in bed again. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
He thinks about the dolls and says nothing.
The next morning feels almost normal. His sisters insist on pancakes, like they always do their first morning sleeping over. He’s slept so little that he’s not even tired. He leaves Shizuo curled up in his bed and fools around with them in the kitchen, bickering idly as he hunts for sugar, fruit, jam, honey.
The smell lures Shinra awake, but he says he can’t stay. He gives Izaya a long hug at the door. It makes him feel odd, something squeezing in his thoat. Pained, but a good pain. He hugs back hard.
Shizuo emerges some time later. They’ve saved him some pancakes.
The twins gossip while he eats and while Izaya drifts round the apartment trying to think of things he needs to do. He calls Raijin and explains why they aren’t in school. He supposes he should call his parents, but he doesn’t see the point.
“Can we stay the weekend?” Mairu says.
“We need clothes,” Kururi tells her.
“I thought we had clothes here?”
“Only winter things.”
“Argh, really?”
He makes tea while they bicker, so he and Shizuo have something to do that doesn’t involve talking to each other. The girls eventually decide to go home for clothes (and movies and snacks and nail polish). They still look a little peaked, and he almost wants to go with them, or at least get them a cab, but he knows they want their independence, even after what happened.
They hug him at the door. He hopes they really do come back, that they won’t be distracted by boys or the internet, or whatever they hell they do nowadays.
Shizuo is finishing his tea as they leave.
“I should go too.”
Izaya experiences a little stir of unease, thinking again of the dolls.
Shizuo sees and frowns.
“You OK?”
“Mm. Fine. Just…still a little out of it.”
“I can’t believe they let you out so soon.”
“I think they were reassured by my having a friend in the medical industry.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like he lives with you.”
Izaya shrugs.
“You can always stay and keep an eye on me if you want,” he jokes weakly. Shizuo doesn’t laugh. Izaya sighs inwardly, feeling some of his old self stab back.
This is why I’m not nice, I just get it wrong, there’s no point in even trying.
Shizuo’s hand reaches out then. Izaya just thinks he's reaching for more tea and ignores him. He doesn’t move as the hand curls round his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss. He’s too stunned to move at first, then wakes up enough to curl his hands into Shizuo’s shirt. He knocks the teapot over with his elbow, the carpet hissing with the scalding liquid, but they take no notice. Shizuo is tugging him to his feet.
“How long will they…?”
“A few hours, at least.”
His sisters are very indecisive.
They are barely out of the shower when twin knocks sound from the door.
“You’re still here, Shizuo!” Mairu cries joyfully. Then she frowns. “But - why? Is Nii-san OK?”
“He’s fine. I just – really needed a nap,” he says awkwardly. Shizuo is a bad liar. Izaya thinks they would have picked up on it instantly, if they weren’t already distracted.
“What happened here?!”
Izaya follows Mairu’s gaze, realises he’d forgotten about the tea, the pot lying on it’s side with a dark stain growing in the carpet.
“Did you guys have a fight?”
“Sort of," he says, and doesn't elaborate. He quickly distracts them by asking about what movies they've brought, is surprised when they go along with it. He cleans the carpet as they dig out their DVDs.
“Stay, Shizuo,” Mairu insists, when he starts to shift. “Watch Mulan with us. We’ve brought ice-cream!”
“Shizuo can go if he wants to,” Izaya tells her. “He’s been here 24 hours already.”
“So you should give him some ice cream to say thank you,” she commands. “Please stay a little longer, Shizuo.”
He and Izaya exchange uncomfortable glances. They are convinced something in the air, in their movements, will give them away, but the twins are oblivious. He and Shizuo lounge at either end of the sofa, while Mairu lies on her stomach in front of the TV, Kururi leans back against Izaya's legs. They have a blanket each, and pass around popcorn. It is surprisingly peaceful.
Shizuo nudges him once with his foot. Izaya thinks its by accident until he does it again.
“I should go,” he says.
The twins hear and groan, but they are too engrossed in the movie to really stop him. Izaya eases Kururi’s head forward so he can stand, and takes Shizuo to the door.
“Stay for dinner if you want,” he says quietly. “I know they're hard work, but, they’re good fun.”
“I know, they’re great,” Shizuo says. “But you guys should have some time.”
Izaya feels himself nodding, relieved at the idea. He does want some time.
They pause at the door, suddenly awkward again.
“But call me after, if you want.”
Izaya nods.
They hug, sort of, which is somehow more bizarre than the hours they had in bed. Then Shizuo kisses him again, even with his sisters right there, and it would only take a casual glance over their shoulders to see why he hadn’t shut the door yet.
He gives Izaya’s arm a little squeeze goodbye, and then he is gone.