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Shinra wakes up one day to find Izaya vanished.
In all honesty, Shinra is impressed that Izaya would take the initiative - that he would finally just up and leave. He knows Izaya's been unhappy. He's seen the flinches when he laughed at the other, seen the sadness in his smiles. Felt the cold distance between them, even when they're sleeping right next to each other. It felt like a countdown - the feeling one got when they were spending the last few hours with someone. Like their time together was already up.
But Shinra thought it would pass - that the tension would break and things would go back to the way they usually were. That's what happened every other time. Shinra never would have imagined that Izaya would do anything about his unhappiness and leave. Because Izaya is so, so weak. He's a shameful coward, hiding behind his walls, behind his excuses. The only thing that he's more afraid of than the world is himself. He's like a newborn deer that just lies in the grass, unable - or unwilling - to push itself to it's shaky legs.
But now his side of the bed is empty, along with his drawer of the dresser, his side of the closet. Nothing left of him but a note that ends with "Don't look for me."
Shinra's impressed. But more so, he's amused.
That Izaya would think a letter was necessary. Sure, maybe it's common courtesy when running away, but it's not needed in this kind of situation. Izaya has to know at this point that Shinra doesn't care. He's told Izaya as much quite frequently over the past few months. Maybe the raven just couldn't quite get it through his slow brain that Shinra is apathetic to him.
So no, the goodbye letter is not needed. It's a bit funny that Izaya would think to tack on a plea such as "Don't look for me."
Shinra wouldn't waste his time.
It doesn't bother him to wake up to an empty bed. For the room to be absent of two sets of breath, two heartbeats, in the dead of night. He's not at all uneasy about the missing weight of another body tilting the mattress.
He doesn't call anyone to ask if Izaya's staying with them. Because hell, he's a grown adult. If he wants to live on his own, he's capable.
And hey, if he does, its just to see who else the stupid sucker's set on getting his heart broken by. Shinra knows he broke Izaya's heart. Because it wasn't love for Shinra. But for Izaya, it was. It was love, and it was real, and it was burning.
(But it's Izaya's own damn fault. Shinra told him up front that this was just physical, that love was never on the table. Because ever since Celty she left, Shinra knows better than anyone how bad love hurts. So bad that he's decided, never again.)
Izaya's just a fool who decided getting all worked up over a silly little crush was a good idea. Like they couldn't just get mutual pleasure like two mature adults, oh no. He had to drag feelings into this.
So when, a few weeks in, Shinra calls Izaya's phone, it's only to scorn him for running away like a coward.
(Because Izaya didn't even try; Shinra saw the longing, the want, in Izaya's eyes but never heard a word out of his mouth about them doing something about it. He saw a lot of Izaya being rejected; not by Shinra in person, but by Shinra in Izaya's own mind.)
((He shoves down the logic when it comes up; the reminders that he told Izaya at the very start to never dare speak a word to Shinra about love, that if Izaya had said anything of the sort that Shinra likely would have laughed in his face and locked him out for the night and they both knew it. He tries to ignore the facts that maybe Izaya never said anything about that fire in his eyes, but neither did Shinra. Because Shinra's not a coward. He's not.))
So Shinra's not anxious when Izaya doesn't pick up the first day. And he's not scared when Izaya doesn't pick up, ever. He doesn't worry about him, worry if he's alone or hurt or scared. Wonder, anxiously, if he's even still alive.
Because that would be stupid, and Shinra's not stupid.
Because they say only love makes you that stupid. And it was never love. It wasn't like what he had with her.
Apparently, though, alcohol makes you pretty stupid too. Shinra finds this out firsthand when he puts on a happy face to go out with the group for Kadota's birthday, laughing and joking that there better be hotties at the bar, since "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone."
But three hours and far too much alcohol later, he cracks his phone against the tile in the bathroom when dialing Izaya's number finally sends him not to the voicemail, but instead, to a message from the phone company that the number is no longer in service. He stumbles out of the bathroom, clamoring past Kadota, Shizuo and the rest of the group as best he can.
But the distress on his face is hard to miss. As he falls against the door of the bar to shove his way out into the snowy night, there are hazy voices behind him, asking what's wrong, if he's sick, if he's hurt.
(And he is, he is, but not in the way they're thinking. This is a wound that never bleeds, but that never heals, either.)
He gives them the answer, not directly, but by screaming a name down the street. Searching, stupid-drunk enough to not know that he'll go unanswered. Or maybe just too drunk to care.
He doesn't cry. And if he does cry, it's only from anger. Or maybe from the freezing wind outside the bar, biting at him as he screams into it, feeling it grab his words and carry them to where no one - lest of all Izaya - would hear them.
When Shizuo grabs him by the shoulders, Shinra - with exemplary coordination for someone so thoroughly fucked - spins around and backhands him across the face. He hears Shizuo stumble back and curse, hears Erika start to cry from somewhere near the doorway, and hears his own voice resume its screaming into the cold, terrible winter wind.
He only ceases struggling once Shizuo has him pressed against his chest with his unshakable strength and he's lifted him up, carrying him into the entryway and just holding him in the space between the double doors, pressing him into a quiet corner to box him off from whispers and stares. He holds him there and pets his hair, not shushing Shinra or telling him it's okay as he cries. Because he knows that it's not. It's not okay.
Shinra eventually tires himself out enough to calm down. It's only when his breath has somewhat evened out and the roar in his ears from the wind has died down that he can make out what his own voice is saying, pressed into Shizuo's jacket.
It's not Izaya's name. It's not even her name. It's a lament. It's: "I'm such a fuck-up."
I'm such a fuck-up. Shinra's not upset because he misses Izaya, no. It's that he misses having a partner. It's that he's ashamed at having had two partners run from him; one who loved him and one who he loved. It's not about Izaya, it's about Shinra.
That's what everyone assumes, and Shinra doesn't bother correcting them.
Partly because he's not even sure that they need to be corrected. Hell, maybe it actually is that simple. He hopes it's that simple.
Because if it isn't, then Shinra's lost two partners - one who loved him, and two who he loved.
God, he hopes it's as simple as everyone thinks.
But he's never sure.