DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Durarara!
I finished talking and was somewhat surprised to see that Izaya had actually bothered to listen, and not just listen, he almost seemed like he was seriously thinking about what I had said. That was first for me, Izaya had never bothered to take anything I said seriously, and actually I had begun to doubt that he was capable of taking anything seriously.
I watched as something passed through his features and he slowly drew his hands off the keyboard and ducked his head again. I was waiting for a snarky retort, but it never came.
"Oi…Izaya, don't have anything to say on that matter?"
He didn't even bother to look up, just pushed away from his desk and spun so that he was facing out the window, and so his black leather chair masked his figure. I sighed, typical of Izaya to run away from stuff again.
Walking over to his desk again, I walked around his chair so that I was facing the raven haired man. I had expected…something. But there was nothing written on his expression, no tears, no anger, no laughter; his empty gaze slid past me and into the realms of nothingness. Then, slowly he raised his injured wrist up to his eye level and gazed at it in a drunken fashion before drifting into hysterical laughter. It was that maniacal laugh that usually annoyed the heck out of me, usually because he was laughing at me and some prank that had gone flawlessly well. This time it wasn't directed at me, in fact I don't think it was directed at anything specific. That weird freak persona of his was Izaya's way of getting through things easily, sort of like his twisted form of deep breathing.
I figured that it would be best to treat that like a rhetorical question since his gaze was still on his wrist.
He stood up and stood in front of the window, twisting to see his reflection at different angles.
"Everyone keeps saying the same thing over and over and over again. It's getting annoying you know? I heard you all the first time. But you know…" He walked away from the window and over to his desk picking up a paper weight, testing it in his palm, "It really isn't my fault that nothing I do EVER makes me GOOD ENOUGH!" He launched the paper weight past my head and into the window it hit was a loud clang and then hit the floor with a 'THUMP'.
He kept yelling and picked up something else, tossing it at the widow. I hoped he wasn't actually trying to hit me because he was horribly off. I finally reached out to stop him when he picked up his phone and went to throw it; I didn't want to have him complaining about that later. I grabbed his arm causing him to finally look up and remember that I was still actually there. I was paying special attention not to hold him too firmly, mentally cringing at the last time we had been in this position.
"Look, I can't even understand what you're saying when you yell that that. Plus trashing your own stuff really isn't very proactive; take it from someone who knows." I felt Izaya's body relax a little beneath my grip and let go of his arm.
He lowered his phone to the desk top and his gaze slipped past the mess of dented objects in front of the window before resting downwards. His fist clenched and unclenched, he was a lot better at calming down then I had ever been.
"Aren't you suppose to be the one with barbaric anger issues. Everything is just falling apart more and more. This is so anoyinng!" He slammed his hand down on the desk. I heard his knuckles cracking as he flexed his hand.
"You're going to bruise yourself like this."
"Ahh of course." He responded with a creepier than usual voice, "Shizu-chan is lucky with this monster body he doesn't have to worry about stuff like this. You know, I really hate this body. I just want everything to be perfect."
I don't know if anyone still reads this. But you all deserve an award for sticking with me through these sporadic updates