His laughter trickled out in a natural sort of way and if I ignored the familiar irritation pricking at the back of my mind- I could almost find the sound comforting. The air settled into something stagnant as his laughter stopped- I didn't dare break that fragile silence.
Izaya dared.
"Thinking back, you really did have a lot of jobs, huh?" That familiar plastered smirk was on Izaya's face, his expression faking on 'naively thoughtful' as he tapped a finger on his chin.
"Yeah, kind of need a job to survive and all," I muttered back, grumbling about the flea's job and the joys of being rich under my breath after I spoke. Izaya waved his wrist, shooing the idea away as he sunk deeper to rest in the chair, though I couldn't help but notice the few parts of his body that would actually phase entirely through-
But that was beside the point.
"I suppose with your dastardly strength you were lucky to even find a job as a glorified Doberman." I frowned, watching as his shoulders shrugged and he shook his head with pity. There was that sting of annoyance, something simmering at the back of my mind like a constant buzz at his insults, but I couldn't help but be surprised with my lack of complete irritation at the situation.
A trickle of pride washed over me at the realization. That over the time Izaya had been living here, I had learned to yield my anger towards his biting words better than I ever was capable. Though now that I think about it, besides the bickering and insults that would piss me off-
Izaya hasn't done much.
I blinked, wine-soaked eyes staring back. Tilting my head in confusion, his brow quirked up and his smile went wry with amused confusion. Clearing my throat, I tried to dispel the strange moment in favor of grunting out a half-assed response to his argument like the flea had probably been expecting.
"Like you have any room to judge on job picking, flea," I grunted, but the punch behind the words fell short- I don't think either of us minded all that much...
At least I didn't.
Izaya's smirk grew amused and he giggled, "This is strange isn't it?"
"What's strange?"
"Everything, I mean look at us-" His hands flickered to point between the two of us, "Think about it, one moment we are infamous enemies the city has learned to fear, next thing were having a conversation on your couch at four in the morning and not a single thing has been broken!" He paused for dramatics, "Honestly it's nothing short of blasphemy!"
I gave a shrug, fingers twiddling together with themselves in favor of ruining the sweatpants I had been gripping earlier- and even though I wasn't as tense anymore, It didn't take being tense for me to easily rip or break things.
"Blasphemy- really?" I was far from impressed with his dramatics, though I couldn't completely disagree with the flea- He was right, this was an entirely strange scenario, especially when he compares it to what we used to be like.
"My my Shizu-chan, I'm impressed! Knowing such a big word is commendable."
My head sunk in, an aggravated sigh weighing heavy on my lips as my mood immediately soured. Even if the scenario was strange, it didn't change the fact this was still Izaya.
Izaya...
I peeked over towards the ghost, who was indulging in a small fit of chuckles at his own joke. Right...he's still Izaya-
The Izaya I've hated since high school, the man who got me arrested, fired, and was responsible for most of the insane shit that happened in Ikebukuro. Not to mention the debt that comes with all that property damage...
And yet-
Like a record player jammed on a single groove, I couldn't look past that haunting question that repeated in my mind, just who is Izaya Orihara? It's been almost thrilling, perhaps daunting, to learn about him so far. To know what lay past those disgusting lies and creepy "love" for his humans.
He was just so strange, almost fascinating to learn about-
Holy shit, I'm starting to sound like Izaya.
I shook my head, hard. Willing that terrifying train of thought away, Izaya's mannerisms were not actually rubbing off on me! Like hell would I-
"Shizu-chan? Are you there? Perhaps the word was too much for your protozoic brain to handle after all..." Izaya mused his tone light with teasing thick on his lips.
Right, quit getting lost in thought- I gave my head one last shake, my shoulders shivering along with the lingering thought I just had before I looked back up to catch Izaya's expression.
And looked real.
Something that, surprisingly enough, had become a more common occurrence with Izaya as of late. Moments where he'd "slip up" and just speak with whatever tone or expression that came with it. Sure he still acted like Izaya, the same prick who mulled over psychology and laughed like a hyena, but the faces he'd make while doing them looked a little less sharp. A little less chiseled, crafted, and chipped over time to form a perfect sculpture of a persona.
I couldn't help but smile, there was something special about being one of the only people to have seen a side of Izaya like this. Honestly, I'm not sure the flea even realizes he's been letting his guard down so much- And like hell was I going to risk it by pointing it out to Izaya.
But then again, there isn't much to accomplish in hiding any longer when you are in Izaya's situation.
An onslaught of memories hazed at the edge of my smile, faltering it a little, but the curve still held stubborn in its upturn. My eyes flickered a little wider in realization, the thought of much darker things had made me realize how the flea had managed to completely change the topic of the conversation entirely.
Izaya sat silently observing me all the while, expectant for some sort of response as he watched, keen to note every little twitch my face probably made.
"Hey, Izaya?" I blurted out, speaking before I'd even processed what I was going to say. He hummed a response. "Sorry." We both knew it wasn't an apology for the random outburst or lack of response.
No, we both knew what it was for.
It felt good just to say it. I know I had already said it, but truth be told, I don't think I'll ever stop saying it, because I know I won't be able to forgive myself for what happened that night.
Izaya stayed quiet, and I was alright with that. I expected no forgiveness in return. Honestly, I was grateful he hadn't, because even if the flea wants to believe that, "a building did him in," I can't deny my part in what happened.
I'll never be able to just brush off what happened that night as some sort of accident.
So I'm grateful.
Grateful that the flea hadn't forgiven me, hadn't done some sweet-sickly routine of reassurance where he claimed it wasn't my fault at all, not that I'd expect anything like that from him anyway.
But there was also that selfish side of me, that part that had my heart thrumming with the realization that even if Izaya never truly said "I forgive you," he was still here- still talking, laughing, and trying to make me mad.
Just like always.
He wasn't yelling, screaming, and wishing for my death as he honestly should be, and even if it was strange that he wasn't, seeing as how far our hatred delved- I'm still grateful.
My shoulders slumped, fatigue washing over me with a weight that even I couldn't handle. I blinked slowly, looking up to stare at the clock, the disgusting numbers of, "4:10" were on display and the lack of sleep was quickly catching up to me.
I rose to my feet, eyelids heavy as I murmured, "Well I'm going to bed." Izaya nodded, still deathly quiet as he watched me shuffle back towards my room.
"Good night, Izaya."
My feet left sounds of heavy footfall down the hall before I seeped back into the comfort of my bed. I let out a satisfied sigh that heaved deep from within my chest and left my body limp. I didn't bother to stuff myself under the covers, the prickling of exhaustion weighing on my limbs won out in favor of moving anyways.
A whisper of a smile curved on my face, the thought of light conversation on my mind as my eyes fluttered closed.
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I watched as Shizuo dragged himself back to his room, the door creaking closed behind him as he left.
Unease settled on my shoulders as soon as he left, the truth of my death mixing a concoction of nerves and relief as I kept staring at where Shizuo once stood. I frowned, thinking back to what that night must have been like.
It was relieving to know Shizu-chan hadn't rightfully killed me, sure he had played his part- but it was nothing as daunting as his bare fists or hand on my throat. Honestly, I never saw myself growing old and found it rightfully disgusting to think of myself aging with time- but I'd always yearned for something grand in my finale.
So the thought of dying in an abandoned building with only Shizu-chan to witness it was far from pleasant.
Shizu-chan...
He had mourned for me- even after everything that happened between us, he had watched me die and had mourned. Still is in mourning, and as much as I'd like to deny it-
It was nice. Knowing that no matter the reason, there were people who had actually mourned my demise. Matter of fact, even if my view had been limited, Shizu-chan almost appears to have taken it the hardest. Perhaps it was just because of his involvement- but...
I let out a short brittle breath, something akin to a single pitch of laughter.
It truly was strange.
Everything.
Hearing about my death had left an unsettling realization anchoring deep in my gut. That yes- I was dead, and no- things could never go back to what they once were. But it wasn't only that, it was the little things too. Those little moments between me and Shizu-chan have felt the strangest of all.
Since when was it normal for the two of us to just-
Talk?
Thinking back, when had things gotten so much calmer between the two of us? When had I stopped putting so much effort into making Shizu-chan angry? When had Shizu-chan stopped growling with disdain every time he said my name? Actually- Shizu-chan hasn't done much of any true fighting, not since before my death. I fiddled with the hem of my coat, pinching at the tufts of fur that curled off into smoke.
I scoffed.
What happened to that almighty promise of making Shizu-chan's life a living hell because I was stuck with him? I clicked my teeth- yeah, so much for that.
My palm jutted out in front of me, turning as I absently looked through the haze, thinking back over the past few weeks. Sure I still manage to piss Shizu-chan off sometimes, but hardly on the scale I used to be able to.
My hand flopped back down to my side.
The past me would've laughed if he'd heard what had become of me- it's ridiculous, profound even! Living with Shizu-chan in his small apartment, having conversations without a single thing breaking, there hadn't even been any yelling this time...
It was almost peaceful.
Shizu-chan even opened up a bit, told me about what happened that night, and apologized. He didn't tell me to go to hell or drag me to my grave just so I could watch him spit on my tombstone. He didn't even smile, didn't cheer at my death and his victory in our stupid little speel of hate-
I sunk further down into the cushions, head lolling to the side at a strange angle. My brows furrowed, was that really all it was now? A contest of hate that's been left in the past...
Apart of me...
Honestly, a lot of me-
Found it enjoyable. Our chases, our fights that left people staring in awe and terror. The rush of adrenalin- that freeing feeling of being able to dodge every attack the proclaimed, "Strongest man of Ikebukuro" could throw at me.
It was fun.
But now something felt off about it, thinking back to the constant death threats and promised pain. What was it all for if this was the end result?
But then there was that other part of me... That part of me that was left lingering past our label of hate and memories of disdain. That small part of me I couldn't push away that was still seeping with enjoyment- but not for what had been, but what had just happened.
Of just speaking to one another.
I couldn't fathom why he had decided to come out and talk to me, but it was nice to get some answers about what happened that night. It filled a few holes in the specifics of my death and even helped explain my appearance. But that wasn't all-
I managed to sink even deeper onto the chair, half of my body was probably phasing through the cushions at this point, but I couldn't bother to move. Stubborn denial crept at the edges of my mind, trying to will myself away from the death trap that would be my own scattered thoughts.
Lips pursed as my sunken head lolled back over to the side and I dared a peek back towards where Shizuo had left.
I hadn't found just the gain of knowledge to be pleasant... No matter how many times I begrudgingly admitted it, it felt strange on my tongue.
That familiar feeling began to crawl at the back of my throat, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the hallway. My thin brows pinched, strained from that strange feeling that wouldn't leave- Still fluttering, scratching, squirming inside my throat, cascading down to leak into my chest.
Honestly, I was lost.
I don't know where to go from here, and I hate it. I hate that I have no control over what will happen- I hate that I can't even tell what it is I'm feeling. I hate that I have no idea what will come next.
I'm clueless and it terrifies me because as this crawling, itching- feeling at the back of my throat won't stop- I can't help but wonder...
If Shizu-chan was really the monster I had always seen him as.