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Izaya bit his lip looking down. Could he really trust this stranger? This stranger already knew more about him than most.

"I…" he faltered, unsure what to say, how to say it. "I'm me," his whole life story summed up into a two words. Pathetic, yet true for every single human that walked this Earth and those before.

"Is Izaya your real name?" Shizuo asked. "Or is it a fake name like Hibiya? Or is Hibiya your real name and you've been lying to me?"

He closed his eyes. He didn't want these questions. He didn't want someone to know who he really was. That was when you got betrayed, hurt and broken. Opening up to anyone made you vulnerable. Yet, the others man posture, though taunt and clenched, looked even more scared and open than anything he could say.

"Izaya is my real name," he finally said with a sigh. "I just don't like others to know my real name."

"Then why did you tell me?" angry words hiding a scared tremor. What was the blonde afraid of? Him?

"Because…" he trailed off. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because he had been sick and hurt, maybe it was because he was tired and loopy, maybe he just wanted someone to know. "I don't know,"

"How the fuck do you not know?" Shizuo yelled, whirling around to show coffee eyes ablaze. "Just what the hell is wrong with you?"

This made him laugh. A loud laugh that bubbled from his lips and forced him to double over.

"Wrong with me?" he laughed. Tears welled in his eyes. Laughter spilled from his lips. "Wrong with me?" his laughter began to fade, almost as sudden as it had stuck, until it petered out, leaving a hollow smile and dark eyes.

"What isn't wrong with me?" a shrug. "I mean, I really am one fucked up whore of a man…"

Shizuo was caught by surprised at the other man's honesty. Now he studied that slim person and the broken down posture it held; the shadowed eyes, the broken grin, the tears that refused to fall. What had happened to this black haired brat to degrade him into this?

"Izaya?" he asked tentatively. No response, not even a sigh. It was as if the world had created the saddest statue out of this one being.

Out of instinct he acted, an action he was sure to regret later but seemed like a good idea at the time. He hugged Izaya.

Izaya was tiny, ridiculously tiny. He felt as though he was holding a glass figurine, one to break at the slightest mishandling.

"Shizuo…" a soft voice whispered. Slowly the glass melted into flesh and blood. Two arms rose, as though to hug him back.

Izaya froze, unsure what to do. What was he to do? Why was Shizuo hugging him? No, why was he letting a stranger touch him? Someone was touching him without his permission! No, stop it, no, stop it stop it…

"STOP IT!" It was pure instinct. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he couldn't help it. He struck out, the pocketknife in his hand, the blade at attention.

The blade caught on clothes, then dug deeper into flesh. Warm flecks of blood splattered his face. The warm arms that had enveloped him fell away. He stood there a moment, knife clutched loosely at his side, panting slightly, before the realization of what he had done hit him. Scared red eyes shot up to see Shizuo bent over slightly, a hand over the small gash in his chest.

"…" there was nothing to say. He had just slashed the angel who had saved him, taken care of him. He had just cut up one of the only people in his life to show him compassion.

"Izaya…?" a lost whisper. Those coffee eyes looked to him. No hurt reflected from those tinted windows, instead there was just confusion.

He took a step back, horrified at what he had done. He had warned Shizuo, why had Shizuo touched him? Why?

Shizuo opened his mouth to say something. Those lost eyes turned into an unknown expression. Scared of what was to come he turned and ran, ignoring the pounding in his ears and the pain in his chest with each halted step.

Shizuo stood there, wondering what had happened. The blood from the cut on his chest was already drying. It was a really small cut with all the depth of a paper cut. He bit his lip, wondering why Izaya had done it, why Izaya had cut him, and then he remembered. Rule number 2, no touching without Izaya's permission. So Izaya hadn't been joking. What had he done…? Izaya was still hurt and now that idiot was running around the city, with broken ribs no less.

Yet, being the 'heartless bastard' he was he could probably let Izaya run free. Izaya had run in the first place. Still, the scared look in that pale face haunted him. Those wide red eyes, shaking hands, quick breathes. Shit, he couldn't just leave Izaya. Izaya was still just a little kid, even if they were the same age.

He sighed and headed in the direction that Izaya had run off, starting off with a brisk walk that slowly increased to a run. He hoped that idiot was alright…

Izaya ran until the pain in his chest grew too much. As soon as he stopped he doubled over, throwing up whatever had survived in his stomach. He could still feel the painkillers surging through his body, turning his stomach. Damn…

He leaned against a wall and slide down until he was sitting on the ground, head between his knees.

The scene that had just taken place flashed before his lidded eyes. The tugging of the blade as it snagged skin, the sound of skin tearing, the cut that tattooed that tan skin.

"Shizuo…" he whispered, voice cracking. He had hurt somebody, again! Yeah, he had just barely met the guy, but he had still hurt him. Why was he like this? Why was he such a horrible person? Damn, why didn't Shizuo just let him die, then none of this would have happened.

Unable to keep these negative emotions bottled up inside anymore he punched the wall, scraping up his knuckles. He winced… that hurt…

Damn…

Shizuo rounded another corner, looking down the alleyway before decided that Izaya wasn't there. Oh, where was that idiot? Another alleyway, another shadow, nothing. Sighing ran a hand through his hair. Why was he even doing this to himself? If someone had told him just yesterday that he would be running around like an idiot looking for a slut he would have laughed at them, then punched them to try to knock some sense into them. But here he was, an idiot looking for an idiot.

He continued his search at a walk, scanning every alleyway he passed. As though mimicking his mood rain began to fall. Damn…