Of Understandings

The city was its quietest around three in the morning, when most of the citizens were asleep, only sketchy individuals and troubled people left to dwell upon the stars and moon as so many others did all over the world. 

Izaya, awake against his better judgment and knowledge of the busy day ahead of him in a couple hours, stared out over Shinjuku from the roof of his office building. 

His office was more like a home than any apartment he had ever rented could serve, the other living spaces he didn't frequent left to catch dust. He briefly thought of terminating the leases on his spare apartments in Ikebukuro and surrounding places, but thought better of it. 

He might need them someday.

He leaned on the rail that separated him from the possible action of falling to his death, the wind mussing his hair and filling him with breaths of fresh air. “Hmm...”

Humming to himself, the raven turned around, abandoning the view for the door to his loft, wondering if he was truly ready to back inside. Of course, there was nothing in there waiting for him, the informant living by himself for as long as he could remember. 

Perhaps that's what made him weary.

Turning back to face the city line, he gazed at the various lights shining in the distance as his thoughts wandered.

He didn't have time that often to think on his own, his free time usually laden with work or meetings. Today was one of the very same days, his life falling into a droning pattern, but something had kept him from sleeping.

Something that never left. 

He began to notice how cold his office got, especially at night. 

He began to notice how quiet his office got, no matter the time of day. 

He began to notice how alone he was- even if his secretary was right across the room from him.

He began to realize how he felt lighter and lighter, meals becoming less frequent without someone to enjoy them with. 

Realization crashed upon him like a cliche ton of bricks, his heart stuttering faintly before starting up once more to its normal beat. 

He was lonely. 

Of course, Izaya had discerned this before, in fact noticing such a trait of his many times in the past. He never seemed to learn that his horrendous attitude and bouts of rudeness pushed others away, even though they were his defense mechanism.

He couldn't help it. 

His eyes began to sting, though not from tears- or so he told himself. He played it off as being tired, yawning to cover a facial expression that was slowly crumbling. Even without direct eyes cast upon his appearance, he still felt as if he had an image to uphold, the raven quickly running a hand over his face. 

“Just a little longer...”

He'd convince himself of such a thing for just a little longer, for a couple more days, months- maybe even years.

All of it would end someday.