Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shizuo Heiwajima hated violence. With every sliver, every piece of his being, he hated it. He hated having to participate in it, he hated being affected by it, he hated affecting others with it. Everyone he cared about, he hurt in some way.

Shizuo was usually a peaceful person — that’s who he was, and who he wanted to be — but he had this temper. He was cursed with it. He hated it.

But his anger took control of him, and so did his strength. His body would move on its own, and soon enough, he’d find himself surrounded by broken surroundings, crumpled and torn up like paper.

He hated violence, and, in turn, he hated himself, since he was the very definition of it.

Shizuo’s birthday was coming up soon. Celty was the only one who’s brought it up, along with Kasuka over the phone who asked Shizuo what he wanted for a gift.

“Anything you get me is already a gift,” Shizuo said. Then he remembered the ugly crack in his glasses. “But those sunglasses you got me are starting to break,”

“You really don’t need anything?” Kasuka asked, worry painting his usual monotone voice.

“Well, I mean, I’d like to see you,” Shizuo said, sipping on a lemonade. “But you’re really busy nowadays, yeah? It’s okay if you don’t have the time,”

“I’ll see what I can do.” His little brother said, and Shizuo wished he could sit by him and do the dishes or something. “But my manager is looking for me, so—”

“It’s alright,” Shizuo said, smiling. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Kasuka,”

“Of course,”

Tom brought it up during work, too. He asked what kind of cake Shizuo wanted. Shizuo couldn’t decide, so he asked Tom to surprise him instead. He caught Tom texting what he said to someone. He didn’t ask.

It was a few days away now, and Shizuo didn’t know how to feel.

Every year he gets a step away from who he was before — and right around the New Year, too. Shizuo was always reflective during these times.

Birthdays. Another little spin around the sun. Shizuo was getting dizzy.

With any luck, he’ll celebrate his birthday with a few close friends, and maybe Kasuka, too. He’ll have some cake, Shinra will insist on a ridiculous party hat, and Izaya will take a single-day break from trying to kill him. (It’s happened only once before, and Shizuo was sure to return the favor.)

Shizuo’s lemonade was empty now. He must’ve finished it a while back. He threw it in a lonely trash can by the side of the road, near a quiet street corner.

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was, actually. Looking around, there weren’t many people — in fact, he was completely alone — and the wind was the only thing he could hear, along with distant cars and sirens.

He loved this side of Ikebukuro. Quiet. Peaceful.

He didn’t quite love how lonely he felt, and how he missed the presence of his friends already, but the atmosphere was really nice.

He walked straight ahead, and the buildings around him started to get really familiar.

“Wait a minute.” Shizuo muttered to himself. He walked a little more and looked to his left.

There it was. Shizuo stood across the building, hands in his pockets as memories flooded his mind.

The bakery.

Somehow, someway, Shizuo took the route from Raira to his childhood home.

It… it was closed.

Shizuo got closer to the glass doors to read the notice posted on it.

Permanently closed. About five years ago.

He put a hand on the doors, debating on whether or not he should enter the little building or leave the past in the past.

An alarm woke Shizuo up at a sharp six o’clock, and he groaned as he got up to stretch. His phone buzzed with an incoming message.

He opened it.

[6:01 am]

Shinra: Hey hey hey!

Shizuo groaned once again.

Shinra: Happy Birthday, Shizuo!

Shizuo decided to text back.

Thanks

Shinra: Are you free from 5pm onwards?

Yeah, why do you ask?

Shinra: Alrighty! Don’t be surprised if Celty and I come over, then!

Always with the exclamation points.

Shinra: We’ll bring a buncha sweets for you!!

Shizuo couldn’t help but smile. Thanks, Shinra

Shinra: :D

Shizuo decided to get up and get ready for the day.

[6:43 am]

Tom: Morning, big guy

Hey

Tom: What time are ya clocking in?

Tom: Boss says its alright if you wanna get here a bit late

I think I’ll be there the same time I usually am

Tom: Alright cool

Tom: Happy birthday, btw!

Thanks, Tom

Shizuo was always up early. He always took the time to bask in the sun and drink in the city around him.

He lit himself a birthday cigarette and leaned on the ledge of his window. There was a small commotion going on at the ground floor of his building — he made a mental note to check it out later. Aside from that, Ikebukuro kept moving, on and on and on.

Oh, he should probably take a shower.

Any other person would come out of Shizuo’s shower with third-degree burns; but because he’d loved blazing hot water for as long as he could remember, he had built up a thick skin.

His doorbell rang. That’s odd. Nobody bothered him at this hour — did his neighbors hear about his birthday?

“Coming,” Shizuo called, leaving the bathroom window open to let the steam out.

He opened his front door.

“Happy birthday,” Kasuka said, a small box of cake in his hands. And his cat on his shoulders. “Surprise,”

Shizuo let a huge grin spread on his face. Then he realized what the commotion downstairs was about. He wondered if Dokusunmaru was good with cameras and crowds.

“Come in, Kasuka,” He said, and he couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for his little brother. “Hi, Dokusunmaru,”

Kasuka stepped in and placed the cake box on Shizuo’s kitchen counter, Dokusunmaru hopping on the tile. He noticed the hot steam emanating from under the bathroom door. “I see nothing has changed,”

“Constancy is fun sometimes,” Shizuo said, patting Kasuka on the head. “You’ll see one day.”

“Oh, here,” Kasuka said, pulling a small rectangular box from the bag he was wearing. “It’s your gift — don’t open it yet.”

Shizuo’s eyes widened in surprise as he took the gift from Kasuka’s hand. “Thanks,”

The cat purred at Shizuo’s ankles. He bent down to pick him up, too.

He didn’t actually expect Kasuka to get him anything. Or to actually show up, especially this early in the morning.

“Ah—” Shizuo cursed. “—I have work in a bit,”

“You didn’t take the day off?” Kasuka asked, sitting down on Shizuo’s couch, Dokusunmaru meowing to join him.

“Uh, no. Should I have?” He gently placed the cat down beside his brother.

“My manager makes me take the day off work—” Kasuka checked his phone, swiftly replying to a text. Impressive, really. Shizuo was a slow typer, especially in comparison to Kasuka. “—But that’s him. He’s… an interesting character.”

Shizuo laughed and sat down beside him. Dokusunmaru snuggled in the gap between the two. He took out his phone, too.

[7:51 am]

Hey, Tom

Tom: What’s up?

Is it too late to ask for a day off?

Tom: Technically, no

But?

Tom: But

Tom: [023.png]

Shizuo opened the picture and smiled. It was Tom, some work friends, and their boss crowded around the office, setting up for what would be a birthday party.

He didn’t notice Kasuka looking over his shoulder until he spoke. “You should go,”

The cat meowed, like it was agreeing with him.

“I don’t wanna leave you alone here,”

“It’s alright,” Kasuka said, reaching for the TV remote. “I can take care of myself. And it’ll be a lot easier if I just waited here instead of going with you.”

“Being an actor must be difficult,” Shizuo said.

“Let’s just say I’m glad it was me and not you,” Kasuka turned on a news channel. Dokusunmaru turned to face the screen, attentive to the newsanchors' words.

Shizuo laughed. “That goes for the both of us,”

[8:14 am]

Celty: Happy birthday, Shizuo!

You’re up early

Thank you

Celty: Of course! Big preparations are in store for tonight, you know :)

I feel like I should be afraid

Celty: Oh, it’s nothing like that!

Celty: Whatever Shinra told you, it’s a lot less dramatic than he makes it out to be

Hopefully a lot less ominous, too

Celty: Oh dear. Well, now I have to talk some sense into him

Celty: I’ll see you later! :)

See you

Shizuo flipped his phone shut and walked into the office.

Chapter Text

Shizuo was greeted with whistles and cheers, Tom giving him a brief but cheerful greeting and leading him to the table that was in the picture.

“Happy Birthday!” Came the cheer, one that was just loud enough that Shizuo could bear.

“Thanks, you guys,” Shizuo said, a small smile creeping on his face. “You really didn’t have to, you know.”

“Nonsense!” His boss yelled. “You’re the reason we’re still in business, Heiwajima! If it weren’t for you, none of our clients would’ve paid up,”

He said it in a lighthearted tone, but still, Shizuo felt the gratitude that spread through the room.

Honestly, it was nice to be appreciated. Shizuo felt a bit flustered. He got up to the table, where Tom handed him a paper plate. There was a small cake in the middle of the table, white icing and a few cursive letters on top that spelled out his name in a cheerful birthday greeting.

…And that’s when his phone decided to buzz with an incoming message. He decided to let it be for now, since he didn’t wanna make everyone feel bad.

For now, a couple of hours with his coworkers didn’t seem that bad. And he really liked sweets, so this couldn’t go very wrong.

[10:26 am]

Kadota: Happy birthday

Kadota: Expect excited messages from Erika and Walker in a bit… I see them typing

Thanks

And uh

Noted

[10:26 am]

Togusa: Happy birthday, dude!

Thanks

Togusa: Walker and Erika incoming

Appreciate the heads up

A few seconds later, Shizuo’s phone buzzed with a bunch of messages, directly after each other. The two were in tandem.

Erika: HAPPY

Walker: BIRTHDAY

Erika: SHIZUO

Walker: !!!!!!!!!

Shizuo decided to reply to them both, with the same, Thanks, you two

Erika: Hopefully there was a smile there!!!

Walker: And we’ll see you later anyway!

Don’t tell me

Erika: Yep!!

I gotta clean the house

Which was then replied to with a string of keysmashes, which — as the two once explained — were supposed to imitate human laughter. Shizuo didn’t get why a simple “haha” wouldn’t suffice, but to each their own.

He was on his way home now, with the came leftovers packed neatly in a bag for him. After the little celebration, his boss all but kicked him out, like a mandated break day for my favorite employee! …Or something.

Ah. He just remembered the text that came in during the celebration.

[8:20 am]

Kasuka: Brother

Kasuka: Packagde

Since he typed so quickly, Kasuka was prone to making typos and grammar errors. It was really funny sometimes.

Kasuka: [183.png]

Shizuo opened the image and squinted, hard. It was a small cardboard box, with a premade red ribbon on the top, no wrapping or anything. The only “decorations” (if one could call it that) on the cardboard box was his name, written on the box with a strangely familiar handwriting.

“Huh,” He had no clue who it was from.

I wasnt expecting anything today

But it’s alright

You can put it with yours

Kasuka: Alright

On my way home

I gotta clean the place

Since apparently a buncha people are coming over

Kasuka: I’ll help

You dont have to

Kasuka: I will

Kasuka: [184.png]

It was Dokusunmaru asleep on the cardboard box. Shizuo let a small smile tug at his lips.

True bliss

Kasuka: Wjsh that wede me

Me too

Shizuo shut his phone as he approached his apartment building, which had finally been cleared of paparazzi.

(That morning was hell. Even though Kasuka had been inside the private building for a while and showed no signs of coming out, Shizuo had to take a service door to leave in peace. How the hell did his little brother deal with these assholes? Shizuo would’ve put them through the roof.)

Shizuo received another text in the elevator.

[10:34 am]

Akane: Happy birthday, Mr. Shizuo!

Thanks, kid

Who allowed this little girl to have a phone? Honestly.

Akane: [021.png]

Akane: They said they’ll text you in a bit

It was Akane and the Orihara twins, all sitting cross-legged on the mats of their dojo.

Tell them I said hi

Akane: Will do!

The elevator dinged and Shizuo made his way to his apartment, wondering how he would hide so many empty cup noodle containers in so little time. He approached his apartment door and found his little brother slumped in front of it, a cap and a mask on, hair tied back, wearing latex gloves.

“Kasuka?” He asked, taking his keys out of his pocket.

“Brother,” Kasuka looked like he could’ve smiled, something tired in his tone and manner. “I wanted to help you out with cleaning your apartment — I was taking out the trash — but I forgot the keys inside.”

Shizuo blinked at him. “Thanks, but you really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense.” Kasuka got up and stepped back so Shizuo could unlock the door for him. “This is the least I could do,”

The door opened with a satisfying click and Shizuo held the door open for his little brother, who took off his mask and cap. Kasuka was never emotive — in fact, Shizuo felt that he held enough emotions for the both of them — but the most he ever got was when he was tired. Shizuo barely got the opportunity to experience this, especially during the last few years, but he could outline the way his brother’s shoulders moved when he decided to let his guard down, even if it was just for half a second. Dokusunmaru called from… wherever he was and jumped on the kitchen counter.

Kasuka held out a hand and Dokusunmaru climbed on. The little cat decided to make itself comfy in the crook of Kasuka’s neck.

Instead of staring for another few minutes, Shizuo decided to crack open a window and clean out the ashtray. “Sorry about the mess, by the way,”

“I’ll survive.” It was true. Kasuka was the neat freak to Shizuo’s pack rat. Whenever Kasuka wanted to avoid his homework when they were younger, he’d barge into Shizuo’s room and clean up the place.

Looking back around, Shizuo realized how much Kasuka already did within that tiny span of two and a half hours. Most of the mess that had previously scattered the apartment — mostly strewn-about empty cup noodles (rinsed, he wasn’t that much of a monster) and piles of dirty or damaged clothing. Shizuo spotted a tied-up plastic bag right by the washing machine, which was softly whirring, and there wasn’t a single cup noodle container in sight.

Kasuka must have noticed him inspecting the room. “You should really diversify your diet, brother. All those cup noodles aren’t good for you,”

Shizuo sighed. “Neither are twelve-hour workdays, but here you are,” He said, his attempt at holding back almost failing.

“Max is a handful, but he makes sure I eat vegetables.” Kasuka replied, the emphasis breaking his usual monotone. Shizuo chuckled. “By the way, another delivery should arrive within the next few days — it seems that you need a new stock of clothes.”

“Sorry about that,” Shizuo turned to look for the package that Kasuka texted him about. “I really try not to get them damaged, but… well, you know.”

“All too well,” Kasuka said, and he almost sighed. “I’ll see what I can do about making the material stronger.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“—But I will.”

Shizuo shut up. Kasuka could be very insistent when he wanted to be. He wondered why his little brother doesn’t use that skill whenever his dumbass boss makes him do fucking whatever. They fell into a small silence, and Kasuka wandered over to the washing machine.

Ah. There it was.

Shizuo bent down by his front door to pick up a cardboard box with a premade red bow glued to its top, his name written on the brown board with handwriting that he couldn’t shake a familiar feeling off of. He set it down on the kitchen counter and moved to open it by the seams.

The box opened with a dull pop as Shizuo restricted his strength so as to not destroy whatever was inside. His head tilted to the side in curiousity as he slid out a smaller box.

It was a white box with a plastic sheet on one side — like the kind figures came in. This particular figure was a bent stop sign colliding with a familiar-looking cargo truck. Getting irritated, Shizuo turned the box over to look for some kind of indicator for who sent it. The only markings on the back were OPEN ME! and an arrow pointing downwards written in strong black marker with narrow letters.

Shizuo did so, his movements getting less and less cautious with each grab.

He took out the plastic that held the figure, and something fell out of the box — it must have been lodged between the plastic and the top of the box. It was a piece of paper, red with black letters.

Happy Birthday, Shizu-chan!

Shizuo felt his irritiation rise to anger within half a second, like water going from a simmer to a boil on a burning stove.

Turn the figure over.

He did so. On the bottom of the truck was Shizuo, seething in anger. Behind the truck was Izaya, smiling.

“Fucking piece of shit!” He yelled, and Kasuka had to grab the figure from his hands in order to stop it from getting damaged.

“This is what happens when you open presents before you’re supposed to,” Shizuo heard Kasuka softly muse as he paced around his apartment muttering fucking piece of fucking shit, I’m gonna kill him dead. “Curiousity and the cat — you know how it goes.”

[10:47 am]

Kururi: Happy birthday, Shizuo!

Mairu: birthday

[010.png]

Kururi: …

Mairu: …

Kururi: Yeah, that’s Izaya, alright

Mairu: agree

I’m gonna kill him

Kururi: :0 Not on your birthday! As much as I want that, it can wait another day. This is your day, after all! No matter what Izaya says or does!

Shizuo sighed at his phone. Kasuka had hid the figure somewhere.

Kururi: After all, he hasn’t tried to kill you yet, has he?

Shizuo thought for a moment. It was only ten in the morning. Izaya had plenty of time to ambush him later in the day — but he supposed the twins were right.

Yet

Kururi: Hey, that reminds me! He actually owes me a favor, how about I cash it in right now?

You would do that?

Kururi: Without you, we never would’ve met Akane-chan, or seen Yuuhei-sama that day! Of course I would! Think of this as me paying back those debts :D

Thank you, you two

Mairu: no problem

Kururi: Think of it as our birthday gift to you!

Shizuo said his thank-yous a couple more times and decided to put his phone down for a second.

“Are you calm now?” Kasuka asked from the living room. He and Dokusunmaru were watching the television, Dokusunmaru meowing every now and then, as if responding to whatever the telecasters were saying.

Shizuo grunted, unable to lie to his little brother, and took a cigarette from a pack he had in his back pocket.

“Superhuman or not,” Kasuka said, the volume of the TV going down as he spoke, “You should stop smoking, brother.”

Shizuo let a puff of smoke out the open window he was leaning on. “I don’t know what else I’d do — what if I start hurting random people again?” He recalled his middle- and highschool days.

“I don’t think smoking has stopped you from doing that,” Kasuka pointed out bluntly.

Shizuo frowned and inhaled, letting the tobacco fill his lungs. Kasuka was right as always, but hey. He didn’t reply.

Kasuka sighed in defeat. “Make a ring.”

Shizuo complied, a series of smoke rings escaping his mouth.

Chapter Text

Something Shizuo always took to heart was the notion that eyes were the windows to one’s soul — what little emotion Kasuka showed, Shinra’s enthusiasm and energy, Tom’s ever-thinking and calculating thoughts, and some of those kids Celty knew, they usually held ambition or naïvete.

Maybe that was the reason why he hated Izaya so much.

Since, whenever they met gazes, Shizuo barely saw anything.

Maybe that was why he took his glasses off every time they fought; an attempt to see something more than just dead dark, only ever absorbing everyone else’s light rather than creating his own.

He thought about this as he put out his cigarette, Kasuka turning on the vents to get rid of the smoke. (He always went on about his health and how much his boss wanted him to take care of it — and always remembered to turn it up whenever Shizuo was smoking around him. For the record, it worked, and Shizuo didn’t smoke around him as much as he used to.)

“Is there anything else that needs to be done?” Kasuka asked, looking around the place.

“I mean, food—”

“—Will be taken care of.” He interrupted. “With what you’ve told me about your friends, they’re plenty in number and personality. You won’t have to worry about it,”

Shizuo frowned in silent protest. He really didn’t like pushing other people to do things.

Sure that nothing else major was to be done, Kasuka went around the apartment and just started tidying things up, Dokusunmaru following him around. Shizuo noticed that there was a duffel bag he hadn’t seen before, lying on the floor by his couch.

“Is this yours?” He pointed at it.

“I hope it isn’t too much trouble,” Kasuka answered from the kitchen, the soft clink of class chiming in the conversation every now and then. “Max said I could have the weekend off, and I thought I’d spend it here,”

“Of course it isn’t,” Shizuo said, suddenly grateful he had an impulse to wash his futon about a week ago. “I’ll set up the futon for you right now,”

Kasuka hummed as Shizuo picked up the bag and walked into the hallway.

When was the last time Kasuka had slept over?

[11:49 am]

Celty: Shizuo!

What happened

Celty: [163.png]

Celty: Would you say this is a good or bad thing?

FUCKING FLEABAG

Shizuo was sure Kasuka heard him when he yelled a loud, “SON OF A BITCH!” from his bedroom.

The picture was of the interior of a package Celty and Shinra had received. It was a small cake with a broken stop sign topper with Happy Birthday, Monster! written in icing. A piece of card next to it said, Don’t forget to tell him to make a wish, right next to an appropriately mischievious-looking smiley face.

He heard footsteps approach and the doorknob turning, Kasuka peeking his head in with a silent question.

“You’re never gonna fucking guess!” Shizuo said, tossing the phone to him.

Kasuka caught it with ease, trading the yellow cellphone for a small bottle of milk. Shizuo rapidly gulped it down.

After scanning the text messages and picture Celty sent, Kasuka typed out a reply.

“Hey, hold on,” Shizuo protested, crawling over to see what he sent. “Gimme—”

—It would be surprising to some to learn that Kasuka was almost as fast as the flea. He sidestepped out of Shizuo’s reach, eyes never leaving the phone in his hand. “Hm.”

“Whaddya mean, hm?” Shizuo’s brows knitted as he felt his temper rise.

Kasuka typed out another response and sent it on its merry way as Shizuo crumpled the milk bottle in a tight fist.

“Kasuka…” Shizuo warned.

“One second,” Kasuka typed out a final message and sent it. With a quick and rapid motion, he flipped the phone shut and tossed it to Shizuo, who caught it with his free hand. “Here.”

Shizuo opened the phone.

“I’m not sorry.” Kasuka shut the bedroom door on his way out. “In advance.”

[11:50 am]

Celty: Oh dear.

Held be dine. It’s kSauks

Celty: Oh! Hello!

I havr an idwa

Celty: An… idea?

I’ld test yod with my nuenber

Celty: Alright.

“Piece’a shit,” Shizuo muttered, setting the remnants of the milk bottle down on the floor.

Whatd he say?

Celty: Since we both know I’m horrible at lying, I’ll just say that I can’t tell you.

Celty please

Celty: Nope!

A notification, this time from Shinra. Those three talking together? Oh god.

[11:52 am]

Shinra: Think of it as a birthday surprise!

I have a bad feeling

Shinra: Isn’t that your usual feeling?

Die

Shinra: Gasp! Not on your birthday :0

Shizuo flipped his phone shut with some force and got off the bed, grumbling to himself.

Kasuka was a fucking plotter when he wanted to be. Why was he getting the sense that whatever he had concocted wasn’t the best idea?

As some sort of not-apology, Kasuka had ordered lunch for the both of them from a fast food place they both had marked as a guilty pleasure. So much for health.

Shizuo had brought this up but was promptly shut up by an enticing plate of fries and a strawberry milkshake, Dokusunmaru padding over with curiousity.

Shizuo fed the kitty a fry and stared a hole into Kasuka’s forehead. “Wh—”

“—Not telling.” He rapidly interrupted, taking a huge bite out of a hamburger.

Shizuo’s eye twitched. He observed Kasuka’s permanently disinterested, closed-eye movements as he chewed. Fishy-ass motherfucker.

“We should watch that movie you’ve been talking about,” Kasuka changed the topic. “The one with the snow title and the Christmas theme?”

“Christmas was a month ago,” Shizuo said, sipping his milkshake.

“And I still haven’t watched it.” Kasuka said, feeding Dokusunmaru a piece of lettuce. “Thus,”

Shizuo lifted an eyebrow but didn’t protest any further. “It’s called Let It Snow.”

[2:38 pm]

Anri: Happy Birthday, Mr. Heiwajima!

Thanks, kid

How did she get this number? Shizuo couldn’t recall giving it to her — must’ve been Celty. Why? And how was her contact name already there?

Anri: My friend, Mikado, says happy birthday as well :)

Say thank you to him for me

He and Kasuka had just finished the little christmas movie. It wasn’t anything stellar, but Shizuo felt so oddly comforted by the whole atmosphere the film created. He supposed it was in his nature to want for a quiet little town in the middle of nowhere whose biggest problems were the little romances between teenagers.

He also supposed he could never truly belong somewhere like that.

“I liked it,” Kasuka stated simply. “The lesbians in particular were interesting. Very Romeo and Juliet-esque.”

Shizuo let out a light laugh. “You can sit down and enjoy a movie without thinking about it too much, y’know?”

“Not me,” Kasuka said.

“Always taking notes.” Shizuo said, getting up.

Two and a half hours before the place fills up. He was getting a bit jittery.

“Uh…” He reached for his cracked sunglasses, which he left on the kitchen counter. “Do you mind if I step out for a bit?”

“Just remember to come back.” Kasuka said. “Wouldn’t want to be late for your own birthday party,”

“Of course.” Shizuo gave the sleepy Dokusunmaru a pat on the head and headed out the door.

Shizuo ended up at the bakery again. After a quick detour to Russia Sushi — where Semyon and Denis begrudgingly gave him a birthday discount — he just started walking wherever his subconscious would take him.

And that ended up being right here.

About a week ago, he had let bygones be bygones and turned away, all but running away from his past.

But now, with nothing to fear from a long-abandoned and empty building, he decided to let curiousity prick at the cat for the second time that day.

He broke the chain with ease. The padlock almost flew off with his strength, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He opened the door and took the notice off of the glass. With practiced gentleness, he folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket, then explored the bakery.

He realized quickly that he had never really been inside the building except for that one time.

It was empty now, industrial furnishings long gone and the smell no longer lingering of baked goods, but he could still outline where he had left those gangsters bloody and ruined.

Eyes behind tinted glass, he traced where they had been, where the woman had been. Where, in some cruel and unusual shape, he had accidentally injured her, too.

But what was he if not cruel and unusal?

Was it not his nature to leave everything he touched in the same state, as well?

Shizuo peeled his eyes away from the spot where the woman had been trapped and upwards to the ceiling.

Some people never find the time to see the cracks and stories in ceilings.

It was painted white, and there were age-old cracks in the paint on top of bubbles that still dripped with water.

Maybe a water failure was what caused the bakery to go out. Can’t really bake if there’s no water, huh?

He looked around, scanning the windows and their sills, watching the sun paint its own abstract pictures with golden rays, gray shadows mingling along.

There was something on the windowsill. Right there.

With a squint, Shizuo took off his sunglasses and walked over to look at it.

“Fuck.”

It was a bottle of milk. Old and putrid-smelling, of course, but it was there. Underneath it, a note.

Shizuo reached out to pick up both things, making a mental note to dump the milk out as soon as possible. He unfolded the cream-colored paper, stained with age.

For the strong boy who saved me. I haven’t seen you after all this time, but I could never forget you and your little brother. Thank you.

Something wet fell on the page.

Shizuo realized with a start that it was his own teardrop.

“Fuck,” He repeated, his voice shaking this time.

[4:38 pm]

Kasuka: Broher

Kasuka: Crlty andn Shinea are ehrd

On my way back

Shizuo was in a park about a fifteen-minute walk away from his apartment. He had rinsed the now-empty milk bottle in the fountain and was now holding it in his hand, staring at the little blue print that ran a ring around it.

He was going to keep it, that was for sure.

With a particularly emotive sigh, he pushed himself off the fountain and started heading home.

Chapter Text

Shizuo held the bottle with a certain kind of touch, as if he were holding a precious artifact that he knew belonged to him alone — that is to say, as gently and assuredly as he would hold his own heart if he knew it would still continue to beat. (Even outside of his chest.)

He was grateful for his friends, as much as they pissed him off. Grateful to have Kasuka to confide in, grateful to have shared the highschool experience with Tom and Shinra, grateful to have Kadota and Saburo and Erika and Walker to bump into around the city and talk about nothing at all, and Celty…

…Grateful to have Celty to talk about monstrous things with.

He was eternally grateful that none of them saw him as a monster.

“—Surprise!” Shinra yelled at Shizuo when he opened his apartment door, Celty beside him with her phone displaying the same message.

“Not really much of a surprise, is it?” Shizuo asked rhetorically as they moved aside to let him in.

“Play along, now, would you?” Shinra asked light-heartedly.

Despite the sigh Shizuo let out, a small smile crept onto his face. Shinra beamed.

His phone buzzed.

[4:56 pm]

Unknown Number: Guess who~ ;)

“Son of a bitch!” Shizuo swore. Shinra lept into Celty’s arms, as did Dokusunmaru into Kasuka’s lap.

Piece of SHIT

Unknown Number: Ouch, Shizu-chan :(

Unknown Number: Rude, much?

Im blocking you

Unknown Number: Sure thing! I have five more phones, anyway :)

With a frustrated groan, Shizuo walked to the kitchen window and pushed it open for a smoke. He renamed the contact.

Fleabag: I just wanted to see how my little gift looks on your shelf, you know~

Like a pile of shit, he sent, lighting a cigarette.

Fleabag: >:'0

Cry all you want

Then, his phone rang with a call. From Izaya.

Against his better judgement, Shizuo picked up.

“H—”

“—What the hell do you want!?” Shizuo yelled, smoke puffing out of his mouth along with the words.

A sigh on the other end. “No tact, as always, Shizu-chan.”

“I’m dropping the call in ten seconds if you don’t tell me what the fuck it is you want.”

“Well, actually,” Izaya started, voice buzzing in and out of the line. “I was contacted by my sisters and some friends of yours for a few favors, and I just wanted to say…”

Shizuo inhaled deeply on the cigarette. “What.”

“Happy birthday, Shizu-chan.” Izaya finished, simple.

The smoke fell out of Shizuo’s mouth quickly and suddenly. “Um… thanks?”

“Don’t die on your birthday.” He followed, without missing a beat. “It makes headstones look unnatural.”

“Since when did you care about what was unnatural?” Shizuo leaned on the windowsill.

“I care about a lot more things than you think, Shizu-chan.” Izaya scoffed. “Obviously a monster like you wouldn’t understand my complex relationship with humanity—”

“—Okay, that’s it.” Shizuo said, suddenly fed up. “Thanks for the birthday greetings, Izaya. Don’t call again.”

With that, he hung up, Izaya’s laugh following him the way there.

He turned to see Shinra cowering behind Celty.

“Some friends, huh?” Shizuo asked the two, voice laced with threat. Shinra squeaked.

Five minutes later, Shinra had been banished to the kitchen and Shizuo to his bedroom, both Kasuka and Celty putting down firm hands until Shizuo could cool down.

Shizuo sighed and opened his phone again. A text had come in while he was yelling bloody murder at Shinra.

[5:00 pm]

Fleabag: And it wasn’t just Shinra :)

Shizuo cursed again and typed out an equally foul reply. Fuck off

It was probably Celty.

Another text, this time from Kadota.

[5:04 pm]

Kadota: On our way there

Kadota: Not far

Okay

Rolling over, Shizuo felt something dig into his side—the empty milk bottle. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, the note still rolled up and tucked in its mouth. He also took out the notice on the glass door from his other pocket.

He never asked for the lady’s name, he realized as he set the bottle down on his nightstand.

Deciding he was about as calm as he could be, considering the circumstances, he got up from his bed and walked out into his apartment.

“Hey, Kasuka,” He called, shutting the door behind him. His brother lifted a hand from the living room so that Shizuo knew he was listening. “Kadota and his guys are coming over soon. Brace yourself,”

He heard Shinra chuckle from the kitchen. Even with his pissy mood, Shizuo could appreciate his old friend simply being there.

“It’s gonna be a lot worse than you think it’ll be,” Shinra said. “Erika and Walker in particular,”

“Are those the…” Kasuka tried looking for his own words. He ended up failing and instead quoting Shizuo’s various texts. “…Kids of Kadota and Saburo?”

Celty shook with laughter. Shizuo took a seat across from her.

Y-yes, that’s one way to say that! Her phone said, shaky as she laughed.

“Yeah, they are,” Shizuo clarified. “By blood or not, Kadota’s their older brother, at least.”

He usually bumped into them when he walked around the city. Not that day, though. He made sure to pick the streets that were most likely to be deserted, ducking into alleys or jumping up onto fire escapes when he did encounter someone. Just once, he wanted to be left alone for a walk, and luckily, his silent prayers were answered.

He was still wary of Izaya, though. No amount of favors — from Izaya’s family members or otherwise — would ever really stop him from doing whatever it was he felt like doing at any given moment.

“And Saburo?” Shinra asked, holding back a laugh.

“Their tired step-dad.” Shizuo said simply. He’d gone over this dynamic with Kasuka many times before, and it was about time someone else listened to his hypotheses.

Doesn’t that imply that he married someone? Celty asked, her fingernails clacking on her phone.

“Yeah,” Shizuo said, sitting down by the kitchen counter. “Kadota.”

Before anyone else could reply, the kettle started whistling. Kasuka floated over in that way he did and took it off the heat to pour three cups (and one sauce bowl, for Dokusunmaru) of tea.

(Kasuka, Shizuo heard from his room, had already told Celty that he would’ve offered some if he knew it was possible for her to consume it. She had laughed. Or, at least, Shizuo guessed that she did.)

Celty and Shinra had already moved onto another conversation topic that Shizuo was already giving up on following.

Dokusunmaru hopped onto the kitchen counter from wherever the hell he was and crawled onto Shizuo, who pulled him into a little cradle.

Shizuo’s phone buzzed.

Kadota: Parked

As expected, Kadota and his guys entered Shizuo’s apartment with a bang — in the literal sense, even, when Erika and Walker blasted Shizuo with confetti poppers at his door. As thankful as he was for it, he did make them clean it up because there was no way in hell he was dong that alone.

The two of them alone were already enough of a sensory overload, but the two of them with alcohol was almost too much for Shizuo.

Shizuo really only drank socially, so he didn’t know his real limit, but that night, he realized that he could take alcohol like a fucking champ. Kadota, Saburo, Erika, and Walker all bought him dinner and drinks and would not stop refilling his plate and glass. It made Shizuo a little bit suspicious, like maybe they were trying to get something out of him.

He glanced at the time. It was around 9:10 (15? 12? He wasn’t entirely sure.) in the evening, now. The sun had set low into the horizon a while back, and Shizuo was feeling its warmth in the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed in the past four hours.

To summarize: he was pretty damn buzzed.

The chatter hadn’t stopped as time went on — in fact, it had only increased, especially when Kadota figured out how to make Kasuka talk. With a little bit of alcohol in his system, Kasuka was talking a whole lot of shit that sounded like it had been bottled up for decades.

Shizuo got up slowly, his vest and bowtie long discarded, and unbuttoned his top couple buttons, ignoring Erika and Walker’s whistles. He walked over to the window and pushed it open, grabbing a lonely glass of water from the kitchen counter.

His phone buzzed. He opened it and almost spat out the water in his mouth.

[9:14 pm]

Fleabag: Enjoying your time?

Shizuo clicked his tongue and reached for a cigarette.

Jealous that I have friends? Stop texting me

Fleabag: How rude, Shizu-chan! I was just trying to check in T.T

The lighter met the cigarette, Shizuo’s eyes lingering on its orange embers.

Did you know I was at my window?

Fleabag: Your smoking window?

So you did

Fleabag: I thought we both knew that you’re not safe anywhere, Shizu-chan~

Shizuo gritted his teeth.

Will you buy me a new phone if I throw this one out my window?

Fleabag: Not enough birthday gifts for you, huh?

Shizuo decided that he wasn’t going to dignify that with a response and flipped his phone shut, tucking it into his back pocket.

He leaned his elbows on the windowsill and took a long drag.

Ikebukuro was gorgeous sometimes. Shizuo, as much as he dreamed of the green of the countryside, loved the bright lights of the city — especially when they were set against the dark, pitch-black of the night.

He’d always thought — and he’d told this to Kasuka, once — that if he couldn’t see the stars in the sky, he’d be perfectly content staring at the artificial lights that passed in the night. After all, they were more alive than long-dead balls of fire.

As he stared at the waning crowd of paparazzi below and the cars that passed behind them, he realized that maybe he wanted to take another walk.

Probably not the best idea to have while drunk, but hey, it was Shizuo’s birthday —

(He turned to look at his friends behind him, still lively, still chatting. Shinra’s head was on Celty’s shoulder, on the brink of passing out, and Erika and Walker were as animated as ever, listening to Kasuka be the most emotive he’s been in years, with Dokusunmaru cradled in his lap.)

— And his friends seemed a bit preoccupied. Might as well sneak off while they’re not looking.

Chapter Text

Alcohol had a strange effect on Shizuo. It was like it mellowed him out, hid the ugly parts of him, placing them in the back room and putting a spotlight on the rest of Shizuo’s personality — the parts that not many people knew him long enough to see. He wondered why that was. He was sure there was a scientific explanation for alcohol’s effects on the human mind, but probably not one that was good enough to satisfy his second question; why didn’t people want to get to know him?

Well. Nevermind. He knew the answer to that question, and it was buzzing incessantly on his phone, an answer that would never stop reminding him.

Shizuo was, after all, a monster. Barely even human, if Izaya was to be believed, but Shizuo didn’t like that conclusion — Izaya was wrong about a lot of things, and Shizuo wanted to hold on to the little spark of hope that told him that he was human, that he was so much more than some… creature that pulled up roadblocks and stop signs to use in a fight.

The elevator dinged.

As he took it down, he checked his phone again. The only text he hadn’t opened was the one that buzzed in his pocket after he decided to ignore Izaya.

[9:16 pm]

Fleabag: [001.png]

It was a photo of Shizuo at the window a few minutes prior, taken from what seemed like the building across the street.

Fuck you

Fleabag: </3

For the second time that day and the third time that month, Shizuo found himself walking down that alleyway again, and something possessed him to run his fingers on the concrete and glass around him as he passed different buildings.

It was a largely abandoned alleyway, he realized, looking around. It wasn’t just the bakery that had closed down within the past five years — there was a ramen shop, a general store, and a small real estate business on that same stretch of road.

“Enjoying the nighttime peace, Shizu-chan?”

Immediately pissed, Shizuo turned to find Izaya, leaning on the exterior wall of the bakery.

“Why are you here,” Shizuo asked, but it came out as a threat, rather than a question.

“I followed you, obviously.” Izaya said, like it was nothing. “Relax, despite your—” He gestured to Shizuo’s probably-disheveled appearance. “—Choice of clothing, I’m not here to fight you.”

He opened the glass door and waltzed in.

“I don’t believe you,” Shizuo said, walking in after him. The moonlight highlighted areas in the bakery that he hadn’t noticed before, shining, reflecting white light into his eyes, bare without his glasses. “Are you unarmed?”

“No?” Izaya laughed, jumping on a dusty counter. Shizuo spotted the glint of his pocketknife reflect the moon’s light. “Being unarmed never stopped you,”

“Unlike you, I don’t start fights.” Shizuo walked over to the windowsill where he’d found the milk bottle and traced the faded ring it had left behind.

“Don’t you?” He heard Izaya grunt as he jumped down from the counter to join him. “You smell like tobacco. And alcohol.”

“Why are you here?” Shizuo asked again, eyes on the ring in the wood. I could never forget you and your brother.

“Maybe I’m jealous you didn’t invite me to your birthday party,” Izaya singsonged, but Shizuo detected an undertone of hurt—especially since Izaya never walked away unless he was avoiding something, and there wasn’t really anything else to avoid in the conversation.

“First off, I didn’t know it was happening,” Shizuo said, turning to lean against the counter. “And second, why would I ever invite you to my birthday party? It’s not like you ever asked me to be at one of yours,”

He saw that Izaya had made his way behind the counter and was in the process of trying to pick the lock on the kitchen door. “I thought that maybe, since I was friendly today—”

“—You call that friendly?” Shizuo interrupted. It pissed him off, how light Izaya’s steps were. He never could tell when he was right behind him.

Izaya didn’t reply. Shizuo heard his pick snap and decided to walk over, dodging the drips from the ceiling. The moonlight illuminated his slight figure, and Shizuo realized, not for the first time, that he really only wore that damn coat to hide how small he actually was.

“Move.” He said, reaching for the door knob. He actually didn’t care if Izaya got in the way. (Izaya moved.)

With a twist of his wrist, Shizuo felt the lock on the door snap and pushed it inwards.

“What is this place?” Izaya asked, slipping between Shizuo and the doorframe.

“A… bakery?” Shizuo asked, dusting off his hands. He looked up.

Izaya slapped a hand on the steel island to jump over its corner. When he landed, he said, “No, I mean, what is this place to you?”

Shizuo decided to open up a fridge door. (Disappointingly, it was warm and empty.) “Why would I tell you that?”

“So you think you’re the first one to tell me.” Izaya said, the sound of a creaking oven door following.

Shizuo froze.

What was it that Kasuka wasn’t sorry for, again?

He turned to look at Izaya, who had his head in an empty, rust-and-dirt-covered oven, like what he said meant nothing at all.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, quick. A text.

There was no way in hell his brother, Celty, and Shinra organized this meeting.

“Don’t answer your phone.” Izaya said, inspecting the inner workings of the oven.

Not if any of them wanted to live.

Shizuo balled his fist. It could’ve just been Izaya. He always had an ulterior motive; Shizuo was a fool to forget that, even for just a few minutes.

“Why are you here.” He repeated.

Izaya got out of the oven and closed its door with the heel of his shoe. “I don’t know,”

Shizuo was a little bit shocked. (Nope, a lot shocked. Very shocked.) That was the most direct sentence Izaya had said to him in a while, and for it to be an expression of uncertainty was… new, to say the least. Was this organized by Kasuka? Why would Izaya have agreed to it?

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and huffed.

“You’re so lucky I’m drunk.” He said, walking over to a tower of trays that would’ve usually held freshly baked goods. He drew one out and ran his finger over the surface to see how much dust had built up on it. “What do you think happened?”

“You really wanna know?” Izaya asked, his heels clicking on the metal table behind him. “It won’t be what you want to hear,”

“Nothing you say is ever what I want to hear,” Shizuo replied, staring at the thin layer of grey dust on his fingertip. “But you always talk, anyway.”

A breath came out of Izaya’s nose, like a chuckle. Shizuo turned to see him staring up at a blown-out light fixture. He wondered what that meant. In a cosmic context. Under its shadow, Shizuo thought he saw the blush of alcohol on Izaya’s face. He’d probably been drinking, too, wallowing in how empty and lonely his life was while taunting Shizuo and his friends.

Izaya refused to actually tell Shizuo what he’d heard, so in return, Shizuo refused to tell him what actually happened. They’d found a door in the back of the kitchen that lead to a second floor office that still had intact documents in its top drawer and — to Izaya’s delight — a false bottom.

Shizuo had looked over his shoulder to see him take out a flask of alcohol with a note taped to it.

“For whoever successfully breaks in.” Izaya read out, taking the note off and taping it on Shizuo’s forehead. “That’s bleak, isn’t it?”

Shizuo sighed and took the note off, folding it and slipping it into his back pocket. He walked around the desk, writing his name in the dust. He looked up and spotted Izaya taking a shot from the flask.

“That’s good,” He noted, twisting its cap back on and throwing it to Shizuo. “Whiskey,”

Shizuo caught it and uncapped it with one hand, carefully monitoring Izaya’s movements. “Hm.”

Izaya walked over to a file cabinet and forced it open, papers flying here and there. Shizuo took a sip of the whiskey, which went down smooth and cool.

Inspecting the flash, Shizuo saw a design etched into it, a young girl, smiling.

“I hear you ran into the bakery and mangled a bunch of yakuza members.” Izaya said finally, pulling out papers and glancing over them. “This filing system is immaculate,” He muttered.

“Did you know why they were there?” Shizuo asked, drawing Dokusunmaru above his name.

“Yes,” Izaya said, and Shizuo heard another cabinet pop open. “But I gather you don’t,”

“Is it monstrous to defend someone who’s helpless?” Shizuo brought up, getting to the point Izaya was hula dancing around. “Is it my fault I wanted to help someone who was nothing but kind to me?”

Izaya didn’t say anything. Shizuo looked up and saw him reading out a file. With a huff, he walked over and snatched the paper from him, trading it for the flask.

An invoice from nine years ago. The bakery wasn’t doing well at all, and was barely making through the year.

With a gulp, Izaya pointed out the date. “That’s when they first got in contact with the local syndicate,”

“So they turned to the yakuza to save their business,” Shizuo said, finger circling the exorbitant amount of money they owed to their bank. “Why?”

Izaya pulled out a different folder, this time from his coat. (Shizuo couldn’t help but wonder why or how he had it.) He offered it to Shizuo. “It wasn’t just a business — it was a multi-generational family business.”

Shizuo opened up the folder, this time filled with documents printed out from Izaya’s computer with its source name blacked out. Invoices, e-mails, handwritten letters, notes, texts, call transcripts.

“Probably sentiment,” Izaya summed up. “Do you want the rest of this whiskey?”

Shizuo shook his head, staring at a text from the owner. You can’t close us down, we’ve only just gotten in contact

“Suit yourself,” Izaya said, gunning down the rest of it.

The reply, from a blacked-out source, was devastating. Yes, we can. You haven’t been living up to your contract.

Shizuo felt Izaya slip the flask into his back pocket, crumpling the note he’d put there earlier. He also felt Izaya’s breath on his neck.

“Tough.” Izaya said, peeking over Shizuo’s shoulder at the documents.

“Why do you have all this?” Shizuo asked him, flipping through all fifty or so pages of information Izaya had compiled.

“Your little brother — lovely little Kasuka-san — asked me for it a few years back.” Izaya said easily. Shizuo’s hand balled, crumpling some of the documents. He didn’t interrupt. “He asked for me to give it all to you tonight,”

“Why?” Shizuo asked. “And what did he pay you?”

“The standard price, of course,” Izaya walked over to the desk and wrote something in the dust. “As for why… he said it was his birthday gift — or, rather, my birthday gift. From me to you,”

Shizuo tucked the folder under his arm and stormed over. “Tell me the truth.”

“When do I ever lie?” Izaya grinned, a canine flash in his eyes.

Shizuo put a fist through the desk, leaving cracks and a dent in the wood. “Tell me the truth.”

Izaya clicked his tongue as he watched the splinters fly past him. “It is the truth.”

“Why did you say yes?” Shizuo asked. He realized that he’d been asking too many questions tonight.

“You’re not asking the right questions, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, reaching for Shizuo’s collar.

“Don’t touch me.” Shizuo slapped his hand away.

Izaya chuckled and walked over to the door. “I like you much better when you’re not angry, you know,”

“I don’t care.” Shizuo replied, following him with a huff. He stopped at the doorway and turned around to see what Izaya had written on the desk.

Predictably, it was his name.

Outside, Shizuo lit a cigarette under an unlit lamp post and wondered. About the lady at the bakery, the yakuza members who showed up at her workplace, why Izaya ever agreed to the commission.

“Where do you even put those things?” Izaya asked, balancing on top of a low brick wall that ran around the soil and roots of a tree.

“Shut up,” Shizuo said, walking on the street beside him.

“I’m serious—” Izaya jumped down and fell in step with Shizuo. “—And why? It’s not like it does anything for you, does it?”

Shizuo gave him a look. “I don’t think my regeneration or whatever affects this,”

“Then you’re still susceptible to lung cancer?” Izaya mused. “What a way for you to go, Shizu-chan. On a hospital bed for treatment of a terminal illness,”

“I don’t even have cancer,” Shizuo pointed out.

“Yet,” Izaya singsonged.

Cars whizzed past, helicopters and airplanes flew overhead, all leaving trails of light behind. Shizuo wondered why Izaya was holding his tongue tonight — he was usually so much more vicious, and Shizuo expected a verbal lashing from him about how badly he’d beaten up those yakuza members, but he hadn’t.

Shizuo wondered if Kasuka had paid him extra to shut up.

“The girl you fought for,” Izaya brought up. “Kasuka-san asked for her contact information, but I don’t think he’s ever used it.”

“Are you offering it?”

“I never said that,” Izaya said, the glint of his pocketknife catching Shizuo’s eye. This time, it was different. He didn’t need to be on guard, because Izaya wouldn’t attack him. “But he has it.”

Shizuo didn’t reply, just drew in a breath through his cigarette. He looked up at the smoggy Ikebukuro sky and spotted an airplane fly across his vision. Another came in from the opposite direction, going the opposite way. Aircrafts passing in the night. Shizuo wondered what that was like.

“How come you haven’t tried to attack me tonight?” Shizuo asked, turning to look at Izaya, smoke covering his face.

Izaya waved it away. “I’m a little bit drunk,” Was all he offered.

Shizuo decided to humor him. “What, you need a ride home? I failed the driver’s test a while ago,”

“Couldn’t pass anger management?” Izaya teased, and Shizuo saw something in his eyes, something he’d never seen before. (How could he possibly describe it?)

“Fucking obviously,” Shizuo said, reaching for his breast pocket, only to remember that his glasses weren’t there. “How are you getting home?”

“Oh, you know,” Izaya gestured vaguely. “Walking. Running across rooftops. The like.”

“No more stalking me for the night?” Shizuo asked, turning a corner.

“Eh, no,” Izaya said, not following him. Shizuo turned to face him. “Birthday parties usually get really boring after 10:30, anyway,”

“How would you know? You don’t seem like someone who’s been invited to a birthday party before,” Shizuo said, rocking on his heels.

“Maybe you can change that next year,” Izaya said, and Shizuo was surprised when he didn’t hear a teasing tone in his voice, but rather, a sincere one.

“You’re drunk off your ass.” Shizuo said, deflecting for a second. “Maybe if you stop trying to kill me, we’ll see,”

Izaya laughed, an unreadable expression on his face. “We’ll see, indeed,”

He turned to walk the opposite direction, and Shizuo watched him go, observing a little bit more of a stumble in his step and a little more emotion in his body language. Something had changed in Izaya, and it didn’t start with tonight.

But, then again, things change in everyone every single day. Was it really that much of a stretch to believe that Izaya could be the same?

Shizuo walked into the main entrance of his apartment building. The paparazzi had left, and Shizuo still had the semi-crumpled folder under his arm.

He opened his phone to check the text he’d received a while back.

[10:48 pm]

Kasuka: Soryd about ths Sueorise. i hpW rou likwd it

Kasuka: wven i f izays wss the msdesnger

It seemed his typos were magnitudes worse when he was drunk to that extent. Shizuo’s thumb floated over the keyboard of his phone. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to reply to a message like that. A few years ago, Kasuka searched for the same questions Shizuo had now, and went to Izaya for answers. Now, Kasuka had gifted him those answers as an olive branch.

Shizuo wondered whether or not he was willing to accept the olive branch and begin to move on, especially since the wielder of the olive branch was the worst person he could possibly imagine it to be.

Another notification buzzed. Confused, Shizuo checked the text.

[11:59 pm]

Fleabag: Happy birthday, Shizu-chan

The cigarette hung from his lip as he tried to decipher its hidden meaning.

It felt different, this text.

Given their meeting only half an hour prior, Shizuo had thought that Izaya was only playing cool for kicks, to build momentum for some climactic occasion.

He hadn’t seen that, though. It didn’t happen. Izaya just… left.

Tomorrow, things would go back to normal. Izaya would find him again and attack him on the street, and there would be major property damage.

Unless… unless Izaya was serious about that birthday party invite.

He started typing.

Thanks

Maybe, just for tonight, Shizuo could allow himself to pretend like they were friends.

[12:01 am]

Thanks, Izaya-kun

Shizuo flipped his phone shut and tucked it into his pocket, looking both ways before he crossed.

Maybe, just this once, he’ll accept the olive branch. Maybe Kasuka was right — maybe some people did just need real friends.

But for now, he had to hurry home. Kasuka was waiting for him. Along with the rest of his friends, who’ve undoubtedly fallen asleep in a heap in the middle of his living room.

As he got into the elevator of his apartment building, Shizuo realized that it had been the first twenty-four hours in a very long time that he hadn’t engaged in real, harmful violence that resulted in serious injury.

It felt… good.

Shizuo hated violence.