Author's Note: What's up, friends? I don't know how many of you are familiar with this story (originally posted on the kinkmeme) but here it is! Finally!

Someone asked me a while ago to post it here, and I'm just now getting to it. I'm glad too, because I really enjoyed writing this story! It's the longest thing I've ever written, I think...

And I'll be posting two chapters at a time! So each update is a two-for-one! Yay!

Hopefully, I'll remember to update continuously... I've been bad about that. Sorry!

Please enjoy!

They're getting worse.

And as I lay here on my back, I wonder how long it will take for this one to dissipate. Could be hours… or days…

What about when it ends? How much time of relief I will have before the next one strikes is beyond me. I try not to think about it. I simply want it to go away.

I keep my eyes closed because, when open, everything spins. Everything glows. Like lanterns all around me. Lanterns whose flames want burn out my eyes. It hurts. The dizziness shoots down to my stomach, and even when emptied for the tenth time, I still find myself surrendering to the dry heaves that follow, as if I can truly throw up the pain.

Most would find a sight of a shimmering aura beautiful. Not I. To me, nothing is more hideous because I know what it means. I feel it. Beauty rests only on the surface. Pain runs deep and unforgiving.

Surrounding noises give strength to the agony as well. Even the smallest feel like roars of some uncontrollable beast, unleashing its relentless rage on my weakened system. Every click, whoosh, buzz, beep, tap, slam…

Regular city sounds.

They reverberate in my head. The throbbing hits my entire body like a body builder attacking my brain with a hammer.

Lately, they've become so intense that it hurts to move.

The suffering that started on the right side of my head slowly began to extend down to my knees.

I feel helpless.


Each fragment of any given cacophony feels like bad news to my ears.

With a horrifying amount of force, I drag my aching body out of bed, stumbling as the blood rushes from my brain; yet the pain stays put.

This has gone on for far too long.

I can't work. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can barely see.

Ibuprofen does nothing anymore.

I don't want to be sick. I don't want to be weak. So this is a big step for me… actually asking for help…

My phone sits at my desk downstairs, far from my bed so that its constant vibrations are less irritating to my senses. By the time I reach it, my entire form is trembling under the weight of the pain. I could puke if I'd had anything to eat in the past forty-eight hours. Simply taking the black device in my hand is a challenge.

Convinced that I may never reach my bedroom at this rate, I trudge over to the couch and lay down once more. Sliding my phone open, I flinch at its fluorescent light, regretting the move instantaneously.

"Fuck…" I hiss, narrowing my eyes at the screen.

I can't bear to look at it for long. So I hurry to make the call.

The sound of the ring back tone damn near kills me.

Fucking nerd better answer before I cut my own head from my shoulders.

"Kishitani Residence," a sudden voice picks up, sounding all too cheery, in blatant opposition to my yet-to-be clarified misery.

An unrestrained whimper escapes me at the sound of Shinra's voice.

"Huh…? Izaya, is that you?"

Taking a moment to breath heavily, I swallow my pride, fighting past the torture as best I can. "Y-yeah…"

"You sound like you're hurt," he states matter-of-factly. I can just imagine the curiosity on his face while he pushes his stupid glasses up the bridge of his stupid nose.

"I… I…" I can't speak.

"Did Shizuo get you with another vending machine? You know if he did, you should just come over, I'll patch you up. Or shall I send my lovely Celty to come pick you up?"

"N-no…" I hiss between my teeth. "C-come… over."

"Jeez… what happened? You sound horrible."

I've tried too long to keep this secret of mine - blaming a heavy work load for my ambiguity. For being relatively invisible between Shinjuku, Shibuya, and of course, Ikebukuro. Instead, I've sent out what is left of my own subordinates - lesser informants - to do by bidding. And that crass assistant of mine only shows her face twice a week.

Namie knows something is wrong, but I could never actually tell her. I won't.

Passing these details along to Shinra is bad enough.

"Just…" I'm about to yell at him to hurry up and stop asking questions, but a wave hits me hard in the forehead. "Now."

I'm holding back from showing him just how much it hurts.

With my head held in my hands, I can feel my body trembling. I wonder if he can see it. I wonder how obvious I am.

I hear his pen scratching across papers held in place by a clipboard. The sound is something akin to nails raking down a blackboard. It makes me nauseous.

For the past hour, Shinra has been asking me questions, and now I believe he is researching my answers.

"Have you gone to a certified physician?" he asks me, replacing the scraping of the pen with his boyish voice.

"N-no," I say, shaking my head slightly.

"You should. You ought to get a CAT scan or something."

"I thought you were a good enough doctor to figure this out without all that shit," I whisper, falling back into the couch with my arm draped over my eyes.

"It's just a suggestion."

"What do you think it is then?"

Shinra sighs a sigh I always hate to hear. With him, if an expression like that breaks his sadistic, bubbly exterior, it's always bad news. Not news that makes you think, "Well that sucks."

Legitimate bad news.

"You say you've had these headaches for six months, and the severity is increasing?"


"And they're screwing with your vision, and motor skills?"


"Judging by the length in which you say they're lasting, I don't think it's a tumor or anything you have to worry about," he sounds optimistic in this regard… but… "However, you're not going to like my diagnosis."


"How many times has Shizuo actually gotten a hold of you in your fights?"

"The hell kind of question is that?" I snap.

"Well, I think you're developing chronic migraines due to too many head injuries. Instead of brain damage or immediate injury, the pain you shouldn't have been able to withstand is, in a sense, catching up with you."

Removing my arm from over my eyes, I shoot a scowl at my friend. "So you're saying this is that fucking barbarian's fault!"

"W-well not completely! I mean… you do have a tendency to instigate a lot of your… uhm… what's the word I'm looking for…"

"Shinra! Seriously!"

And I've never wanted Shizuo to die quite so much as I do now. How I want to drive my knife through his chest, straight into his heart and sever his animalistic life from this world. I want to see that stupid blond ogre choke on his own fucking blood. I want to give him a taste of just how much it hurts.

Better yet, I could jab my blade into his idiot brain. Give him a taste of what it's like to lose sleep for days on end because my head hurts so fucking bad that I can't find a space dark enough, let alone quiet enough, to ease the suffering.

I want to fucking kill him.

"Look," Shinra says calmly, "Before you go on a vengeful tirade in that creepy, passive-aggressive way of yours, I can help."

"Help by dissecting that imbecile with a chain saw."

Instead, the doctor reaches into his bag and pulls out his pill stash. "Or I could just medicate you," he smirks.

"Screw that. I don't want some weird array of chemicals in my body!" I protest.

"So you don't want to feel better?" he asks knowingly, holding up a specific bottle.

Leering at him, I snatch it out of my hand, proceeding to examine the tablets. "These things are huge."

"Hm. Yeah. Take these whenever you feel a migraine coming on," he nods. "They'll do the trick."

I pop one in my mouth, finding it difficult to swallow. Does he really expect me to take one every time my head hurts? Does he know how often it does?

Shinra packs up his things and heads for the door. "Anything else I can do to help?" he wonders before making his leave.

"Yeah," I nod, "Tell anyone - especially Shizu-chan - about this, and you're dead."

The sadistic fuck giggles and heads out the door. His annoying laughter aptly reminds me of the pain bouncing around in my body like a Mexican jumping bean.

Fuck migraines.

Fuck Shizuo.

Fuck everything.

I didn't ask for this.