Archive of Our Own

It wasn't often that he found himself nervous.

Was he nervous? If he wanted to do something, he did it, no holds barred. Granted, those situations didn't involve him making himself completely vulnerable, and around a stranger no less. Yet there he was, dreading the moment he made eye contact with the man sitting across from him once he looked up from his clipboard.

He looked up, and their eyes met. Izaya realized then that he wasn't nervous, but contemptuous, his distaste hidden behind his business smile: 95% fake, 3.5% mischievous, 1.5% genuine.

"It's good to see you again, Orihara-san."

Izaya bowed his head respectfully. "And you, Ito-san."

Ito Akihiko was a rather short and stout man, supposedly only in his early 40s, though all of his gray would lead one to believe otherwise. Considering just how disinterested his resting expression was, Izaya had gathered that he was instead rather impassioned and attentive - things one should have expected to find in a therapist, though Izaya had heard enough to know that wasn't always the case. He wasn't a particularly kind man, not that Izaya needed kindness, and he was also a bit of an airhead, but the two of them worked surprisingly well together.

"Not many people come back after their first visit," Ito replied, setting his clipboard down and giving his full attention to his client. "I'm happy to see you're taking this seriously."

Genuinely wanting to get help in order to change and going to therapy evidently ended up becoming two very different things. Izaya, master of telling people what he needed them to hear, found this to be his greatest challenge yet: condensing the tale of the past fourteen years of his life in order to properly explain just what was going on inside his head, and to someone who had never even been to Ikebukuro.

"All I know is there's that Headless Rider story. And there was that gang a couple years back...Dura something? Ra...ra..."

"The Dollars."

"Right, that's it."

Thank the god he didn't believe in for client confidentiality. Not that Ito seemed to mind all that much. Honestly, Izaya wished he would show a little more concern as any normal person would when involving themselves with him, but he supposed it was a refreshing change of pace. What had this man seen in his career that made Izaya just par for the course?

That certainly got him thinking. Ah, in another life, he might have been a revered psychologist. There was something far more entertaining, far more rewarding about this life he had chosen, however.

For the following 45 minutes, Izaya did the one thing he could say with confidence he hated more than anything: talk about himself. Talking about himself was just so frustrating, not to mention dull. For him, the best therapy would have been listening to Ito talk about his other patients, though seeing as that wasn't an option, he'd have to work on this lovely new strategy of grinning and bearing whatever came his way.

It wasn't all that difficult, surprisingly, which could more than likely be attested to actually talking things out with Shizuo lately. Some things, at least. That was where Ito came in - for the things he didn't quite understand himself, and for the things he couldn't bear to say even to Shizuo.

"Have you had any suicidal thoughts recently?"

As he had arrived at the most difficult part of his story, Izaya was temporarily back in that wheelchair, his own personal hell, desperately searching for something to stop him. Instead, he was met with the loneliness that punctured his brittle heart, shattering it like glass until there was nothing left. He wasn't sad. He wasn't angry. That was just it: he wasn't anything.

Not like this. He had told himself back then.

"Thankfully, no," he said, and though he wanted to laugh and brush it off, he was met with his own silence. "Though I'm sure my fear of death would keep me from doing anything if I did." Ito simply nodded in response, scribbling down some notes. Unnerved by his silence, Izaya brought himself to continue. "It's not easy, though. Every time I look at Shizuo, somewhere, I remember."

"Normally I'd be advising patients in your situation to avoid anything that might serve as a trigger, though yours is a unique case," Ito responded. "How long have you two been together?"

"A little over a year."

"Are you happy with him?"

Without hesitation, Izaya replied, "I am."

Ito managed a small smile. "That's the most confidence I've seen out of you yet."

That's a first.

"So, Shizuo-san genuinely makes you happy, and yet you're still torn over your past with him..." Ito trailed off, clicking his pen in thought. "Have you two had any time apart at all?"

"I was out of town briefly a couple of months ago, but other than that, we're around each other just about every day," Izaya replied, smiling weakly as he added, "You're going to tell me to stay away from him for a while, aren't you?"

Ito chuckled. "I can't force you to do anything, but I can at least advise you. You mentioned Shizuo-san witnessing you having a flashback not too long ago...would you say that you've been experiencing them more often lately?"

Izaya nodded, taking in a deep breath before he spoke. "I have."

"And have the two of you been spending more time together recently?"

"...Yes."

Ito's smile was somehow both comforting and cruel. "Then I think you know what I'm about to say."

. . .

The warmest rays of sunshine early February could muster (which was refreshingly warm, Izaya noted) shone down on him as his gaze wandered across the surprisingly packed beach. All sorts of different people came to view, bringing a smile to his face. The breeze tousled his already unkempt hair and sent a small chill down his spine, though he stood tall, watching the sun set across the horizon. Turning to face his companion, he said, "Welcome to Hawaii."

With a sigh, Namie removed her sunglasses, clipping them to her shirt and folding her arms indignantly. "I should've stayed home."

Izaya shot her a sideways smile. "Don't lie to yourself."

"Watch your back, Orihara."

. . .

"How do you feel about America?" He had asked the second Namie had picked up her phone.

"Ethically?"

"For a vacation."

Namie hummed in thought. "Why?"

She hadn't hung up yet. Izaya smiled hopefully. "I need to get out of the country for a bit."

"What did you do to Heiwajima?"

"You always assume the worst of me."

"Someone has to, these days."

. . .

Thus was how Namie had found herself accompanying Izaya on this spur of the moment trip out of the country. His argument had hardly needed to be persuasive; taking advantage of the fondness Namie had developed for the country during her time there was like taking candy from a baby. Maybe she just needed to get away from everything. These past couple of months had been rather overwhelming on her end, between quitting working for him, giving in and deciding to work for Nebula, tackling all of the scandals that resurfaced now that she was no longer under Izaya's protection, and handling her first ever relationship.

Maybe she had some secrets of her own.

Fortunately for him, Namie wasn't one to pry. Unfortunately for her, Izaya was.

He wouldn't hound her, for now. In that moment, he was just happy to not be alone.

After staring wistfully out at the ocean, Izaya took Namie by the hand and led her along the boardwalk, quietly taking any and all opportunities to people watch as they walked. Each time he said something, Namie gripped his hand firm enough that he'd immediately let go, and she snickered to herself with each victory.

After about four rounds of this, Izaya asked her, "Why do you keep grabbing my hand?"

"You're fun to mess with," came her reply. "I always loved a good opportunity to put you back in your place."

With a light chuckle, Izaya replied, "Past tense?"

"Jury's still out on that one."

He wasn't just happy to not be alone. He was absolutely euphoric.

Not that he would ever admit that to her.

. . .

Though this was technically a vacation, Izaya still had his work cut out for him. He spent most of his days positioned in the middle of the bed in his hotel room, his laptop in front of him - at least fifteen tabs open at all times - and his cellphones surrounding him in a circle so that he could easily grab any one of them if it were to ring. On the bed beside him was Namie, lying on her stomach with her reading glasses on and her nose deep into probably the thickest book Izaya had seen, legions of sticky notes poking out the top as an assortment of colors surrounded her just as Izaya's phones did him, along with highlighters and her own laptop open off to the side.

That was how they had spent the first four days of their vacation from sunrise to sunset, only stopping at night for dinner (Izaya insisted on going out to eat, much to Namie's dismay) and a bath.

Two hours into day five, Izaya closed his laptop, gazing over at the hardworking Namie with a pout of a frown. "Don't you want to go sightseeing?"

Namie's eyes didn't leave her book. "What, you can't go by yourself?"

"I did invite you for a reason. Plus, we're in Hawaii."

Namie scoffed, setting her book down in her lap. "You're such a child."

She didn't say no.

. . .

After a fulfilling day of dragging Namie all over creation, the duo found themselves back in their usual rhythm as they visited yet another restaurant. Namie was completely exasperated, but she still didn't say no.

Izaya was really about to test his luck, but he went in anyway.

"How do you feel about discussing an age-old philosophical question that has stumped even the brightest minds?"

Immediately concerned, Namie's glass of wine froze in midair as she attempted to form a reply. Her words failed her, and a quirked brow served as her response.

Izaya snickered to himself before clearing his throat and asking, "Who am I?"

"...What?"

"Who am I, in your eyes?"

. . .

"You have quite the story," was all Ito could say at first, chuckling to himself. Two sessions in and fortunately Ito understood him well enough to know he could laugh. For a moment it made him wonder, was he really that easy to read? Granted, Ito was a professional. What he said next immediately snapped Izaya out of his thoughts.

"Thank you for telling me all of this."

For the first time in a long while, Izaya was rendered completely speechless. All he could do was laugh.

"Sorry," Ito continued on. "You seemed rather uncomfortable, and yet you didn't stop. I appreciate you being genuine."

There was that laugh again; not quite nervous, but nowhere near confident. "I've tried to make a habit out of that lately."

"Orihara-san," Ito said after a brief silence, pushing Izaya to make eye contact. "There's something I want you to think about before your next visit." When Izaya just nodded, Ito continued. "Who is Orihara Izaya?"

"...What?"

Ito smiled. "When you talk about yourself, you exclusively talk about either who you were or who you want to be, not who you are now. While you're gone, I want you to think about that, but don't press yourself for an answer."

As Izaya rose from his seat, he looked back at Ito with a hint of a smile. "I'll do that."

. . .

Who is Orihara Izaya?

"An annoyance," was Namie's immediate reply. Izaya opened his mouth to speak, though Namie immediately silenced him with a raise of her hand. "I wish I could just stop there, but you seem serious, so I'll entertain you. Just this once."

"Your generosity is admirable."

"That being said," Namie continued, rolling her eyes. "You're the kind of person I get the urge to stab at least twice a day. You're completely infuriating to be around, and somehow...that's part of your charm."

Izaya laughed. "Really?"

"You're horrible, but you're not as horrible as you used to be," Namie clarified, averting her eyes as she continued. "You finally let go of that facade of yours, so you feel more genuine."

"Namie..." Izaya began, leaning in and gesturing for her to move closer. In a whisper, he asked, "You don't still have feelings for me, do you?"

"I loathe you."

With a smile, he replied, "Just making sure."

. . .

As to be expected, Namie's answer stuck with him for the rest of the trip, haunting him alongside his desire to see Shizuo again. For a while, he couldn't tell which was worse. Fortunately, work was a good distraction, and Namie eventually became more open to the idea of sightseeing rather than staying cooped up inside.

It still went by too fast. As much as he wanted to see Shizuo, he almost didn't want to say goodbye to the beauty that was Hawaii. Namie was unsympathetic, apparently even more eager to get home.

"Missing a certain someone?" He teased.

"So what if I am?"

Well, she hadn't told him to go die, at least. She couldn't hide that smile of hers either once they were on the plane.

"I think I needed this," she murmured drowsily as she awoke in Japan. "And that's the closest to a thank you you'll ever get."

"I'll take it."

. . .

If there was anything Izaya was expecting upon his return home, it certainly wasn't being tackled from behind. He could only sigh as whines of, "Iza-nii!" filled his ears and as he tried to shake Mairu off of him, though to no avail. Either he had grown soft, or she had gotten stronger. Hard telling not knowing. In contrast to Mairu, Kururi kept her distance, slowly approaching and tugging at Mairu's shirt in an attempt to get her to come down. As always, Kururi was the only one who could get a handle on her sister. Once Mairu was off of Izaya's shoulders, he turned to her with a playful smirk and asked, "What, did you miss me?"

"You wish," Mairu retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. "That was clearly an attack."

"Well, it definitely wasn't your best."

"Hey!"

As Mairu puffed her cheeks out indignantly, standing on her toes to try to match her brother's height (and failing miserably) while he just laughed, Kururi murmured, "Dad...is home."

Izaya immediately turned to her. "He is?"

Kururi nodded, clarifying in her demure voice, "Warning..."

"I'm not too worried," Izaya replied with a hint of a laugh. "But thank you."

"Please come with us," Mairu whined, hugging his arm. "If we have to deal with him, so do you. Besides, lying is kinda your thing."

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

The twins just smiled. Kururi grasped at his other arm, and so the three walked side by side back to the twins' apartment, Izaya's suitcase trailing behind them.

It was almost impossible to believe that the Orihara siblings came from a man such as Orihara Shirou. Whereas his children were all rather abnormal, Shirou was the epitome of normal. Though he was overseas more often than not, and though it didn't always seem that way to Izaya in his adolescence, he was a caring parent who only wanted the best for his children. That being said, he was unbearably naive. The man could not have been more out of the loop with the true nature of his children.

Lying was a game, and the Orihara siblings were winning by a long shot. Izaya could only imagine what the twins had come up with this time around. They'd had well over three years to prepare, after all.

Izaya hadn't even seen either of his parents since before everything came crashing down.

Once they reached the twins' apartment, Izaya had his sisters go ahead of him, with Mairu calling out to Shirou as she opened the door, "Look who we found!"

Shirou beamed as Izaya stood in the doorway, and he rushed to his children, pulling them all into a tight hug. "It's so nice to see all of you together," he said as he released them, taking a good look at Izaya as Izaya did the same with him. His father had grayed a lot since the last time he had seen him, his skin adorned with wrinkles, though his proud smile remained the same.

As always, their meeting was bittersweet. If Shirou had any clue what the three of them were really like, that smile would be gone in an instant. Well, there was no way of knowing for sure how he would react, but it wasn't something Izaya planned on seeing any time soon.

As Mairu said, lying was kind of his thing.

Now it was time to regroup, as he casually offered to make dinner, insisting that everyone sat and caught up while they waited. While under the twins' roof, he would be Orihara Izaya, successful financial planner, dutiful older brother, and a good man who loved humans and never found himself in trouble with them. He couldn't help but listen in on the twins' stories as he cooked, gathering that Mairu and Kururi were almost done with their first year of college (not a lie, surprisingly, though it was rather difficult for Izaya to believe), Mairu was dating a "sweet boy" named Aoba while Kururi "remained single" to focus on her studies, and they were both incredibly popular and totally not infamous for all of the trouble they got themselves into.

It was a good thing he was rather adept at hiding his genuine reactions, or else he would have burst out laughing right then and there.

"It's hard to believe you're all grown up," Shirou said. "I can't even believe you two are nineteen now."

Izaya snickered. "They haven't grown much."

"You take that back!" Mairu exclaimed, huffing and crossing her arms. Kururi scooted closer to her and rested her head on Mairu's shoulder.

Shirou just smiled and laughed. Izaya could only sigh as he watched the scene unfold.

Once he finally sat down, providing an overly extravagant meal that made even the twins momentarily praise him, Shirou finally directed his attention to him. "What about you, Izaya? How have you been?"

"Good," Izaya replied as he donned his business smile. "I got a raise a while back so I took a little vacation to celebrate. I've made some new friends. I was the best man at Shinra's wedding."

"That's great!" Shirou beamed, his warm smile piercing the part of Izaya that was guilty for keeping up this facade, even if most of what he said was actually true. "I'm proud of you."

It was in that moment that Izaya completely shut down.

"All of you," Shirou added, carrying on as if everything was fine. "So what about you, Izaya? Will I be meeting a girlfriend any time soon? And Mairu, I'd love to meet this Aoba-kun. He sounds like the perfect match for you!"

Mairu giggled, waving her hand dismissively. "Stop it, you're too kind. Aocchi is really busy with his studies, so maybe once he has a free moment."

Not even the blatant lies about one of Izaya's least favorite people on the planet could snap him out of his withdrawal. Instead, his mind was a steady loop of Shirou's words, over and over again.

I'm proud of you.

God, how he wanted to laugh. Proud of what? He wanted to cry out. In the past, Orihara Izaya had been resentful. Resentful of his parents for leaving him alone with the two younger siblings he essentially raised himself, resentful of his daily life, his shitty, mundane life where the only way he could find the extraordinary, or even simple pleasure, was through tormenting the people around him. He was a manipulator, a delinquent, a scoundrel, and most importantly, he was weak.

He was lonely.

"I'm...not seeing anyone right now," he finally managed to respond.

Shirou nodded in understanding. "Are you happy?"

"I am."

"Then that's all that matters," Shirou replied. "I've worried about you quite a bit. You were always such an isolated child...but you said you're making new friends, and you're happy, and as your father, that's all I can ask for."

Izaya smiled - truly, genuinely smiled. "Thank you."

Not much later, he excused himself due to horrific jet lag (only partially a lie), waving his family goodbye before catching the train home to Shinjuku. Shizuo would have to wait a while longer. Every bit of energy he might have felt from his trip was gone in an instant, draining him and leaving him to immediately slump against the door to his apartment once he was inside.

"Home sweet home."

. . .

Back down the rabbit hole again. Ito's expression was welcoming as Izaya entered his office, though once again Izaya's apprehension got the better of him. Compared to the initial two sessions, this was a piece of cake. Ito knew his story inside and out; all that was left was to discuss the vacation, and the events of the day prior.

"I had another episode last night."

Interest piqued, Ito asked, "Did you see Shizuo-san at all?"

Izaya shook his head. "No. I guess I just got a little too carried about thinking about what my dad said."

"Would you say that there's a correlation there?"

Izaya sighed. "It's...a bit far fetched."

Suddenly Izaya was twenty-one again, fresh out of his time underground and formulating the very beginning of the lie he would continue to tell his father, that he was starting a career as a financial planner. In spite of being rather withdrawn as a child, he had come out of his shell and developed a passion for humans - something he couldn't hide no matter how skilled a liar he was. But his father was happy. Too happy, Izaya thought. Then again, Shirou loved humans himself. Nowhere near as much as his son, Izaya had realized, but more than the average person.

Finally, he had something to connect to his father with, though he would have to remain at arms length, as his father had always left him. In adulthood, he really didn't mind that much, but somewhere inside of him, a younger Izaya still longed for, yet resented, his parents. He would forever keep his distance, as his parents kept theirs.

Yet hearing Shirou say those words sparked something inside of him that he couldn't quite place. Regret? Guilt? Sadness? Maybe even pride?

Orihara Izaya was lonely. He couldn't let anyone in, not even his own parents, but for just a moment, his heart both swelled and shattered. Love was a double-edged sword, one tip always pressing against Izaya's heart, while the other lie in wait with whoever he involved himself with. Were he to get too close, they would both suffer.

There were some exceptions. Shinra had always kept Izaya just close enough to avoid the killing blow, and now he had Shizuo, his brute strength allowing him to control the sword at will, making sure that no harm came to either of them.

He couldn't even tell his father about Shizuo. Surely Shirou would accept the two of them over the twins' relationship with each other and Aoba any day, and yet the lie came right out. These days, Orihara Izaya was ridiculously self-conscious. He wanted to make amends, most of which he knew he could never make, but he also wanted to save face.

But what face was there to save?

"I don't have an answer for you yet. I apologize."

"Please, take your time."

Hesitantly, he said his goodbyes, reassured knowing he wouldn't see Ito again for another two weeks. His mind was in complete and utter chaos, and how he wanted to hide away from everything for just another day.

How he wanted to hide, yet his feet brought him straight to his home away from home.

Only after taking in a deep breath did Izaya's hand grasp the doorknob, and he silently cursed his anxiety as Shizuo came into view. His gaze was blank as he stared at the TV, the afternoon news hitting Izaya's ears, and the sound of the door opening reaching Shizuo, who froze in place as he saw Izaya. Hesitantly, Izaya smiled at him as he rose from the couch.

"Namie texted me."

His smile immediately faded. "You know, I'm really not in the mood for a lec-"

He had no choice but to silence himself as Shizuo pulled him into his embrace, his grasp somehow both gentle and firm, almost as a testament to Shizuo's temperament. Izaya allowed himself to fall into the hug, his lingering hands making their way to Shizuo's back.

"Welcome back," Shizuo said tenderly.

"I'm home."

Shizuo moved to let go, though Izaya remained where he was. Shizuo smiled and moved back to him, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Izaya couldn't begin to express how much he had missed this.

After an unusually long while, the two finally sat down, Izaya resting his head on Shizuo's shoulder as if not a thing was wrong, and certainly as if he hadn't been told to stay away from him. (Ito never specified how long, Izaya told himself.)

"So," Shizuo began with an amused smile. "How was Hawaii?"

"Don't freak out, but honestly, I'd rather listen to you talk. I'm beat."

"Damn, what happened to you?"

Izaya chuckled weakly. "You'll find out...eventually."

As he expected, Izaya hadn't missed much while he was gone. Shizuo's life had been as mundane as it always was now; a few petty fights at work here and there, meals with Tom and Varona on the daily, missing Izaya more than he thought he'd admit, and,

"My mom texted me, and I was thinking... I want to introduce you to her."

Izaya sat up, turning to face him with an intrigued grin. "Really."

Sheepish, Shizuo awkwardly fumbled with his hair. "Well, yeah. Are you okay with that?"

"My calendar is open."

. . .

Apprehension was all over Shizuo's face as he waited outside his childhood home just a day after his determined declaration, and Izaya couldn't help but playfully nudge him. "I guess you've never brought anyone home before, huh?"

"Shut up, you know I haven't," Shizuo grumbled, taking his glasses off and clipping them to his shirt pocket. His outfit was the same as always, sans the vest for once, though it was his pushed back hair that made the difference.

"Ooh, so fancy. I thought this was a casual dinner," Izaya had teased him as he poked his head around the corner to peek into the bathroom, to which Shizuo responded by rolling his eyes and kicking the door shut. Izaya himself had slightly altered his outfit as well, trading in his jacket and t-shirt for a black button-up. When he looked between himself and Shizuo, he was almost reminded of Shinra and Celty. Somehow, it suited them.

Before he started second guessing himself again, Shizuo rang the doorbell, and his mother was at the door in almost an instant.

"Mom, I want you to meet someone."

Namiko's gaze wandered from her son to Izaya, and she greeted him at first with shock, though soon with a smile.

"Orihara Izaya. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Izaya?" Namiko echoed, and her face flushed in shock once again as she turned to Shizuo, demanding answers.

Shizuo's sheepish smile returned. "Yeah, it's him."

After taking a moment to process things, Namiko stepped aside. "Come in, please, come in! I need to hear how on earth this happened!"

That had to be the fastest anyone had gotten over their distaste for him. Izaya laughed to himself, and taking it as a response to her statement, Namiko beamed at him. Pride was all over her face. Finally, her son was bringing a significant other home. Izaya could see his father clear as day with the same expression.

Namiko led the two inside and they were soon greeted with a simple nod from Shizuo's father, Kichirou. Izaya was already piecing together a puzzle in his mind. The origin of Shizuo and Kasuka's natures was blindingly obvious, though perhaps it was a bit too soon to guess. Speaking of Kasuka, he couldn't help but notice his absence at the table, though it wasn't all that surprising. He had a busy life. It was a miracle he could even attend Shinra and Celty's Christmas party a few months back - and that he even wanted to.

Namiko directed everyone to take their seats as she brought the food over, and Izaya stiffened as he recognized the meal in front of him.

Hot pot. Of course it was hot pot.

He shot a look to Shizuo, though Shizuo held his hands up defensively. Izaya almost believed him.

"So," Namiko began, breaking the brief tension. "How did this happen?"

"It's a long story," Shizuo murmured as he filled his bowl, making sure to avoid eye contact.

Izaya smirked. "It's a good one, though."

"Is it?" Shizuo shot back with a smile.

"It all started three years ago..."

Shizuo's hand immediately went to his hair out of habit. "We're really doing this."

After retelling the story to Ito, Izaya was able to condense it with ease for the Heiwajimas listening pleasure, omitting the rather traumatic bits and whatever might paint Shizuo in a negative light. Namiko listened intently as he spoke, with Shizuo occasionally chiming in, and Izaya was stunned time and time again by that warm smile of hers.

Once it was finally time for them to head home, Namiko reached out for Izaya's hands, taking them into hers before he left. "It was so nice to meet you. Please, come again." To Shizuo, she added, "That goes for you, too. A phone call would be nice."

Blushing, Shizuo replied, "Okay, okay."

It was a win-win situation for Izaya tonight. Shizuo took his hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world, bidding goodbye to his parents before the pair began their journey back to Shizuo's apartment.

"I love your mom," Izaya said as soon as they were out the door, earning a laugh from Shizuo.

"I can see why. She was brutal today."

"We do it out of love."

"Mhmm."

There was that word again. No matter how content he was, he'd never quite get used to saying it, just like that, as if it was nothing and everything at the same time. Feeling his face flush, he grasped Shizuo's hand tighter as they walked.

"Is everything okay?"

Dammit. Nothing got by him any more.

"Why do you ask?"

Once again, Shizuo rolled his eyes, stopping for a moment to lean down and press a kiss to Izaya's cheek. "You're so frustrating."

"You love me."

"Yeah, I do."

He honestly could have exploded.

Once they got back to Shizuo's apartment, he did. Shizuo was immediately pressed up against the door as Izaya leaned in to kiss him. It was the first time in just a few weeks, but it felt like it had been years. Shizuo being, well, Shizuo, all night didn't help either. He didn't know he could miss someone so much until now.

Honestly, he thought it would kill him. When was the last time his feelings had been this intense? Had he ever felt like this?

Well, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that he was kissing the love of his life, and he was over the moon.

"I love you," he managed to get out in between kisses, and he was so close that he could feel Shizuo's laugh just inches away. Those three words felt so liberating in that moment. Perhaps he'd have to start saying them more often.

"I'm liking this brutal honesty," Shizuo teased as he reached for Izaya's hand, sneaking past him and guiding him to the couch for some more comfort.

Izaya positioned himself in Shizuo's lap once they made it to the couch, though before their lips met once again, he asked, "Want to hear something else, then?"

Shizuo's smirk could almost rival Izaya's trademark. Holding back a laugh, Izaya leaned in and whispered in his ear...

Shizuo's face was unsurprisingly bright red when Izaya could see him again. Slightly above a whisper, Shizuo asked, "Are you sure?"

No words needed, Izaya wrapped his arms around Shizuo's neck, guiding him downward onto the couch with a kiss.

Whereas Izaya fought back laughter, Shizuo embraced it. "Guess that answers that question."

. . .

Heiwajima Shizuo was the sun. That much Izaya was certain of. If Izaya was darkness, then Shizuo had to be light. He shone brighter than anyone, and Izaya wondered how for so many years he could have been so blind. Now, he didn't know how he would be able to live without him. They were such an unlikely pair, the two of them, yet they fit together so well, no doubt attested to just how much they had changed. Where Shizuo had once had the patience of an angry toddler, he was now kind and beyond understanding. He was genuinely funny when he didn't try so hard, and he had polished his wit to be able to keep up with Izaya in more than just physical fights. He couldn't even begin to list off all of the things he had grown to notice, every little quirk that drew him in further and further.

How could the same man be the root of all of his joy and all of his sorrow?

In that moment, he couldn't care about that. All that mattered was that he was happy.

He scooted up as much as he could with Shizuo's arm around him, kissing his chin rather than his cheek, though he supposed it was the thought that counts. Shizuo suppressed a laugh as he asked drowsily, "What's gotten into you tonight?"

"I think it's the hair," Izaya replied, maybe only half joking. "You should do that more often."

"Go to bed, flea."

. . .

"Shizuo, who am I?"

Shizuo groaned, calling back to him from the kitchen, "Can I wake up before I answer any of your philosophical bullshit?"

"No," Izaya called back. "Don't think. Just be honest. Who is Orihara Izaya?"

"Who is Orihara Izaya..." Shizuo repeated, grasping his chin in thought. "You're...the love of my life. You love humans more than anyone. You're more passionate than anyone."

As he paused to think, Izaya crooned, "Aww."

Shizuo ignored him and continued on. "I used to think you were the devil incarnate, but I'm happy I realized I was wrong."

"And what made you realize that?"

Shizuo hesitated, and his voice lowered as he said, "When you didn't come back."

Izaya didn't respond, simply making his way to the kitchen so he could see Shizuo's face, though he refused to look at him, his eyes wandering anywhere they could. At a loss, Izaya reached for his hand, gingerly intertwining their fingers. What could he say to him? 'It's not your fault,' even though it technically was?

"I'm here now," was what he settled on. "I'm not leaving again."

Shizuo released his hand, and for a moment Izaya feared the worst, though his fears were lost as Shizuo turned around and hugged him tight. Neither said a word, just standing in each other's embrace, accepting the silence.

Waiting for the day they could finally put all of this behind them got harder with each passing day, but Izaya knew they would just have to keep pushing onward.

. . .

In the following days, everything began to fall back into place. He and Shizuo were as normal as they could be considering everything, and life in Ikebukuro carried on. There was just one thing that haunted Izaya: Ito's question.

Ito might have told him that he wasn't pressed for time, but the clock was ticking as their next meeting slowly drew closer and he still didn't have a clear answer.

"When you talk about yourself, you exclusively talk about either who you were or who you want to be, not who you are now."

All his life, he had perfected the art of studying other people, understanding every little detail he could, yet he had failed to apply that to himself without even realizing. He supposed now would have been a good time to start, but where was the fun in that? He'd just have to keep searching the only way he knew how.

Well, nearly getting kicked in the back of the head wasn't part of the plan, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

A livid Sharaku Eijirou came into view as Izaya spun around, deja vu hitting him as Mikage showed up behind her brother, smacking him to reprimand him once again.

"Eijirou-san, we've really got to stop meeting up like this. I am taken, you know."

"Can it, Orihara," Eijirou grumbled, clutching the cheek that Mikage had slapped. "Taken by some poor soul who doesn't know any better, right?"

"I'm with Shizu-chan, actually."

The siblings' jaws dropped at about the exact same time. Eijirou was at a loss for words, so Mikage spoke up instead. "You're kidding, right?"

Izaya smiled.

"How..." was all Eijirou could get out.

"Anyway, let me ask you two something," Izaya said, eager to get off topic. This had been a chance meeting, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in Mikage's answer. "Who am I, to you?"

"The bastard who ruined my sister's life." Ah, of course Eijirou could talk now.

Mikage scowled as she snapped, "What is going to take to get it through your thick skull that nothing happened?"

With no signs of their bickering ceasing any time soon, Izaya took the opportunity to slip away, looking back at them - and bumping right into another familiar face.

"Dotachin?"

"Stop calling me that," Kadota replied before he could even process what he said. Izaya laughed in response. Some things never changed. "What trouble are you getting yourself into now?"

"You heard, huh."

Kadota nodded. "And I guess you're gonna ask me the same question, too."

"You're awfully perceptive."

With a small laugh, Kadota responded, "You're a wild card, I guess is the best way to describe you."

"A wild card?"

He had no time to wait for a response as a female voice called out from not too far away, "Dotachin!" Erika came into view not much later, waving her hands excitedly - until she saw Izaya, of course. With a brief farewell to Kadota, Izaya crossed the street, hoping he'd have better luck on the other side. There were only so many people in the city that would be willing to talk to himself, much less answer his question.

Masaomi and Saki certainly weren't an option. Fortunately, Masaomi hadn't even noticed him, though Saki acknowledged him with a nod. As he turned the corner, Varona came into view, and she wasn't an option either, not knowing him well enough to give a proper answer. He could ask the twins, but they were naturally with Aoba.

It was a small world in Ikebukuro, and he was running out of options.

So he thought.

After about an hour of scouring the city, short ginger hair tied into a side ponytail paired with a blinding pink outfit caught his eye immediately, and he hastened his pace to catch up. This was an opportunity he couldn't miss.

"Well, if it isn't Manami-san."

Manami flinched, whirling to face him with a frown. "What do you want?"

"Just a moment of your time," Izaya replied nonchalantly. "I have a question I want you to answer."

"What's in it for me?"

"You'll never have to hear from me again."

Manami narrowed her eyes, sighing before saying, "You better not be lying."

"Who am I, to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who is Orihara Izaya?"

Manami didn't respond instantly, stepping to the side and leaning against a wall, tapping her foot in thought. "Your doctor friend told me something a while back. That you're more human than anyone, and that your heart is fragile." Averting her gaze, she added, "I hate to admit it, but that stuck with me, and made me think."

"Really?"

"I still hate your guts!" She snapped, folding her arms. "It just got me to think a little differently."

Genuinely curious, Izaya asked, "Is that why you helped save me?"

"I told you before I just wanted to be there when you died," Manami grumbled. "None of this changes what you did to me."

"It doesn't," Izaya replied, noting Manami's raised brows as he did so. "But aren't you happy to still be alive?"

"I...Yeah. I guess I am."

With a grin, Izaya walked on past her, waving and calling to her, "Thanks for humoring me."

He could just barely hear her murmur of, "Asshole," as he departed. There it was.

. . .

Sunset painted Ikebukuro's streets with warm hues as the day drew to a close, welcoming the bustling, chaotic nighttime that made the city home. All around him were people with unknown names and faces, names and faces he might never get to know, though that hardly ruined the fun. All around him, life carried on. A child cried on the side of the street and a Raira student immediately went to their aid, getting down on their knees and gripping the child's shoulders reassuringly. Off in the distance, a couple argued far too loud considering they were in public, though with all of the noise that filled the streets, Izaya could just barely make out what they were saying. Outside Russia Sushi, Simon dutifully called out to passersby in an attempt to get them to visit, as unsuccessful as always. A trio of Raira students walked by Simon hand in hand, surprisingly saying hi before carrying on. Far off in the crowd, Izaya caught a familiar blonde head of hair, another blonde and a head of dreadlocks on either side of him.

All around him, there were stories waiting to be told. People to meet, and people to part with. People to help, and people to harm.

Who is Orihara Izaya?

Izaya laughed to himself. Like that was hard to answer.