Work Text:
Heiwajima Shizuo knew all too well what the feeling of powerlessness was like. Anyone who didn't know him could argue otherwise, that a man with such strength could never understand what that felt like, but it was precisely because of his strength, his curse, that he understood. But none of the days spent in the hospital, none of the sleepless nights, not even a hint of the crushing loneliness that sometimes consumed him could compare.
Izaya had never been farther away, and Shizuo had never felt more powerless than in that moment.
"Izaya, please just promise me that you'll talk to me."
"I suppose I have nothing to lose, considering I just spilled everything to you."
A month had passed since their well-needed heart-to-heart and Izaya had yet to keep up his end of the bargain. Not that Shizuo could really hold it against him. It was hard, opening up. He couldn't even imagine how difficult it had to be for Izaya in particular. He had learned his lesson the last time, to not force him. That being said, he didn't imagine that things would take this sort of turn.
When they went to bed for the night, Izaya had made himself at home underneath Shizuo's arm, resting his head on his chest. Now as Shizuo awoke, Izaya had retreated as far as he could to the opposite side of the bed, clutching at the comforter as if his life depended on it. Seeing Izaya hunched over like that, Shizuo immediately scooted over to him, only for his stomach to drop when he saw the pure fear in his eyes.
"Izaya?" Shizuo murmured cautiously. Izaya's only response was a flinch, his body tensing even more than it already had. Shit. He swore to himself, inching backward. What do I do? Shinra would know, but there was no guarantee for a quick answer, not at this hour. He could look it up, but what would he search? Inhale, exhale. "Izaya?" He tried again.
"Just do it, monster."
His voice was beyond broken, vulnerable without a hint of that false bravado he had almost died trying to maintain the last time he had spoken those words. That was the voice of someone who had given up.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Shizuo coaxed, keeping his distance. "We're okay now, right?"
No response.
Powerless, Shizuo clenched his fists, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry."
Something shifted, and when Shizuo looked back up, Izaya's grip on the comforter had loosened. His good hand slowly traveled to his forehead as he bowed his head, clutching at his hair and muttering, "Dammit."
"What?"
Izaya didn't look up. "The last thing I wanted was for you to see me like that."
Biting back a rather stern remark, Shizuo asked instead, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay."
Izaya laughed weakly. "That was easier than I thought it'd be." When the now flustered Shizuo didn't respond, Izaya scooted closer, resting his head on Shizuo's shoulder.
Shizuo flinched, struggling to find the right question to ask. "Are you sure you should be doing that?" didn't seem right. "Don't push yourself."
He could practically hear Izaya roll his eyes as he buried his head further into Shizuo's shoulder - and the "I'm fine" that almost left his mouth, instead replaced by, "Whatever you say."
After a grueling silence, Izaya looked - glared, rather - at him. For a moment Shizuo blankly stared back, eyebrows raised, though he soon cautiously raised his hand and ran his fingers through Izaya's hair.
"It's not your fault," Izaya reaffirmed aloud, immediately raising a finger and pressing it to Shizuo's lips the second he heard the gasp of disbelief. "Don't. It's all in my head."
Shizuo brushed his hand aside. "But it is my fault."
Izaya sighed, detaching himself from Shizuo's side and grasping for his shoulder, guiding Shizuo to face him in the faint light of the room. "Ask yourself this: would you have really fought me like that if I hadn't hurt Varona?" All Shizuo could get out was "I-" before Izaya continued. "You always wanted to kill me, yes, we know. But what if I hadn't sought you out? Provoked you? Tried to kill you the moment we met?"
"Stop-"
"You might have dealt that last blow, but I'm the reason our fights even began," Izaya said darkly, breaking their eye contact. "I did all of this to myself, and got what I deserved."
"Do you really think-"
"I can't talk about this right now," Izaya murmured, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and bringing himself to stand. "I should go."
Shizuo shot up at that. "It's the middle of the night! You're not really gonna walk all the way back to Shinjuku?"
Izaya shrugged, hastily pulling a shirt on over his head and retrieving his phone and charger from the floor. "It's not that far."
"Please," Shizuo whispered, so quiet that Izaya almost didn't hear him. "Stay. I can go sleep on the couch. We can talk whenever you're ready."
Izaya lingered in the corner of the room, eventually letting out a sigh and taking a seat on the bed. "Okay."
Shizuo smiled faintly, and once he reached the doorway he turned back and said, "Text me later."
"No promises," Izaya shot back, and Shizuo didn't have to turn around to see that devilish smile, grinning to himself as he exited the room.
. . .
Understandably, Shizuo couldn't fall back asleep. The image of Izaya hunched over, his eyes so out of focus, all of his being so out of touch haunted him, and would surely only continue to. It didn't matter what Izaya said, he thought. This was his fault. He had lost control and done the one thing he had spent his entire life fearing he'd do.
No matter what Izaya said, he would never be able to undo the damage done.
As he tossed and turned on the couch, Izaya completely consumed his thoughts, though after about an hour or so he was finally able to move beyond his guilt and powerlessness, instead thinking of their more fonder moments. Mostly fonder moments.
. . .
March, the previous year.
"Oh, you animal."
Shizuo grinned. "That's your first step in making it up to everyone."
Izaya, irate from being the one to lose a two month long bet that easily could have lasted a year - maybe longer - flailed around on the couch like an overdramatic, angst-ridden teenager, grumbling, "I thought we agreed on one favor." One favor for professing their love first. It was a simple bet.
But between the two of them, there was no such thing as a simple bet.
"That is one favor," Shizuo replied with a teasing smile. "You'll just have to do the rest yourself."
With planning for Shinra and Celty's wedding almost immediately underway, the topic was dropped for some time. Planning a wedding, especially when those to be wed hadn't a clue about it was infinitely more difficult that Izaya had imagined, not to mention the fact that he was keeping tabs on legitimately everything happening in the city. Fortunately, with Namie back at his side, that burden had been lessened ever so slightly, but there was no rest for the wicked.
"Maybe I just want to be nice. Guess you still don't know a whole lot about that, huh."
It had been a one-off line, a joke more than anything, and yet Shizuo's words stuck with him.
"You know," he began one night, huddled over his laptop looking at so many tablecloths to the point they all blended together. "It's really frightening realizing that whenever you've done any shred of good in your life it was done with an ulterior motive."
Shizuo didn't respond at first, quirking his brows in pure confusion, glancing from Izaya to the laptop, from the laptop to Izaya before he asked, "Jesus, are you okay?"
Izaya ignored his question. "I saved a girl from human traffickers only to somewhat inadvertently convince her to kill herself. I brought multiple abused children out of their home situations only to brainwash them. I dated a girl who truly loved me knowing I would never find it in my heart to love her."
As his rambling became more frantic, Shizuo hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, Izaya."
"And you know what?" Shizuo could only groan. "I don't even regret all of it."
Shizuo reaffirmed his grip on Izaya's shoulder. "Maybe you should just stop talking."
Izaya nodded, resuming his mindless browsing through the selection of tablecloths. Shizuo peered over his shoulder, trying to keep up and wondering to himself, Is it really that big of a deal? It's a tablecloth. And before he knew it he was speaking again, already uncomfortable with Izaya's silence. "You really want to change, right?"
"I'm dating you, I may as well be a saint already," Izaya murmured, earning a scowl from Shizuo. With a sigh he tabbed back to his planning document, typing and saying aloud, "Note to self, Shizu-chan can't handle sarcasm."
"Was it really sarcasm?"
"Undecided."
"I'm serious. What are you gonna do?"
Suppressing a sigh, Izaya pushed his laptop to the far side of the coffee table, his eyes still on it, unable to meet Shizuo's gaze. "What am I going to do..."
. . .
May.
"Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."
Before he could start what was undeniably going to be a very long, passionate, vaguely incoherent rant, Shizuo moved his phone a few inches away from his ear and asked, "What's going on? Are you okay?"
"I was just at the convenience store, and there was this girl in front of me who couldn't afford everything, so I paid for her. You know, like a good samaritan. Who am I?"
"Izaya. Calm. Down." Tom and Varona gazed at him curiously, and he gave them a reassuring wave.
"I need to ruin this somehow." God, he was an awful listener.
"No, you don't." Shizuo sighed, turning back to his friends and frowning. "Just go home. I'll be there after I'm done."
At least he was trying, right?
Once Shizuo was off of work for the night, he arrived at Izaya's place as promised and after a brief period of peace resumed their earlier conversation. "Hey."
"What."
Shizuo moved closer to Izaya's side, draping his arm around him. "If you stop thinking about being good and just do it naturally, I think it'll be a lot easier for you."
Izaya turned his head, eyes narrowed. "...You're severely overestimating my natural kindness."
"I don't think so," Shizuo replied, laughing to himself. "You gave me your umbrella the first time we met after all that time apart."
"Compensation."
"You got me cake for my birthday."
"Obligation."
"You're planning Shinra and Celty's wedding."
"Shinra was my only friend for the majority of my life. Next."
Shizuo pulled his arm back only to bury his head in his hands. When he regained his composure, he asked, "Do you enjoy being an asshole?"
"It isn't that I enjoy it," Izaya replied, crossing his arms. "It's simply a means to get me to the end I desire - humans' reactions."
"But you enjoy it."
"But I enjoy it."
Shizuo tried to sigh and ended up laughing instead. "We have a lot of work to do."
. . .
Back in high school and in his younger adult days, Shizuo would have killed to see Izaya be this torn over his own morality and each and every mistake he had made. Someone needed to get back at him in a way Shizuo couldn't - though in the end, in a way, he himself succeeded. He'd be lying if he said Izaya's regret wasn't just a little satisfying, for all the anger and pain forced upon his younger self, but he wasn't satisfied. He didn't need to be.
Izaya could call him a simpleton all he wished, but under ideal circumstances, Shizuo was quick to forgive. If you gave him a reason to be mad, he'd hate your guts. But if you had shown something more - promise, kindness, friendship - it wasn't that big of a deal. Fortunately, it was Varona who had helped him discover this fact. Even after realizing that she was the rider who had attacked him, who had kidnapped Akane, who had stolen Celty's head, he couldn't bring himself to hate her. How could he hate his dutiful kouhai, his friend, the one person who had risked their life for him? Him, of all people? Varona desperately wanted to change, and he would believe in her.
He could only believe in Izaya, too. It was only fair. Not a day went by in their two years apart that Shizuo didn't think about him, praying that he was alive, wondering what life would have been like had things turned out differently.
Now, he could only wish that he could turn back time and make things right sooner.
How could he have been so blind to just how much Izaya was suffering? Why did Izaya refuse to let him be there for him?
If he had just ignored that phone call, hadn't met Izaya at that construction site, stayed behind with Varona instead of running off...
Yet no matter how hard he wished, he couldn't turn back time. Izaya would forever carry the scars of that night with him, and it was all his fault.
. . .
When Shizuo returned home from work that night, Izaya still hadn't texted him. He turned the corner to his room, knowing it was all just wishful thinking to hope that Izaya was still there, peacefully sleeping, or at least hastily typing away on his phone, but he had left without a trace. Shizuo slumped down onto his bed, protectively clutching his phone and scrolling to Doogle, typing in his questions now that he had a clearer head. Izaya hadn't given a name to his condition, though it wasn't hard to find. Shizuo found just about every article on PTSD he could, diligently reading (something he honestly despised) each and every one, mindlessly slurping down cup ramen as he did so.
Still not a word from Izaya.
He would wait as long as it took.
. . .
August.
"I've compiled a list."
Izaya spoke without preamble, setting a notebook down right beside Shizuo's first glass of milk of the day. Shizuo squinted up at him, his eyes hardly open and his mind barely awake. When Izaya gave no clarification whatsoever Shizuo asked, "Of...?"
"Mostly everyone I've wronged in my life, how likely I am to try and make amends, and what I can do to try and make said amends," Izaya explained, resting his arms on the counter and looking at Shizuo with determination written all over him. "I've already excluded Masaomi-kun and Saki-chan after our meeting, and I think it's safe to say that Namie and I are on better terms."
Interest piqued, Shizuo grasped the notebook with his free hand, scanning the list of names. Am I supposed to know any of these people? He continued reading, only picking out a handful of names he recognized - Celty, Akane, Varona, the twins - until a frown made its way onto his face.
"Why am I on here?"
Izaya chuckled. "Dating isn't exactly making amends."
"We're fine," Shizuo replied, setting the notebook down and taking Izaya's hand in his.
"If you say so," Izaya responded, his smile morphing into a smirk as he said, "You'll be missing out on a lot of things..."
"Like what?"
Izaya took the notebook back and said, "Now you'll never know."
Shizuo rolled his eyes, but his hand didn't leave Izaya's.
. . .
On the third day without a word from Izaya, it finally sank in.
He was still moving forward. Here he was, formerly the worst man in the city - the loneliest man in the city - restarting his relationship with his lifelong enemy, making new friends (and new enemies), and doing what he loved most: observing humans.
Orihara Izaya was the epitome of persistence.
"It's not your fault. It's all in my head."
Maybe he was the awful listener.
. . .
Five days later he arrived home only to find Izaya sitting on his couch, chin in hand as he intently watched the episode of a new drama that Kasuka was starring in, that Shizuo had of course recorded the night before. Once he realized Shizuo was in the doorway he paused the TV, turning to face him with an all too awkward look unbefitting of him.
When Shizuo said nothing, merely closing the door behind him, Izaya looked him right in the eyes and said, "Let's talk."
. . .
"I decided I wasn't going to run away any longer, and I'm not," Izaya concluded about an hour later, Shizuo's face still frozen in shock. He had desperately wanted to know, and yet hearing all of it, from the wheelchair to the nightmares to how he almost lost hope, was almost too much. "And that being said..." He continued, managing a faint smile. "I think I'm going to go to therapy."
Relief unfroze Shizuo as he let out a reassured sigh. "Really?"
Izaya nodded. "Punishing myself is exhausting."
"Oh, I hate you," Shizuo said, smiling for the first time in days as he shot a look at Izaya. Can I kiss you?
You need to stop asking. Izaya settled himself in Shizuo's lap, cupping his cheek with his hand and kissing him without another word.
"I love you, too."