Seven Ghosts ch13

Seven Ghosts

Part Two

Chapter Thirteen

Zero Ghosts

{[Heiwajima Shizuo]}

Izaya's recovery is slow, but I am relieved when Shinra tells us that he may indeed make a full recovery, which is a huge relief considering the miniscule chance of the normalcy post-surgery. Shinra and I saved some birthday dinner for him for when he could move onto solids and he scribbles on a notepad with his left hand near illegibly that it was his best birthday ever.

The only thing I'm concerned with brain function-wise would be the repeated scribbles of "thank you, thank you, thank you" until the tube has been out for a few days and he can actually rasp out replies. If I thought it was unnerving to see him weak before, this was a strait out mindfuck.

"You're not brain damaged are you?" I tease, though I hide my worry behind it.

"No, of course not," he replies hoarsely. "I get left and right confused sometimes is all."

"Shinra says that's normal after brain surgery. He also says as soon as you can walk without help you can go home."

"It's home now, is it?"

I don't say anything.

"Hey, I think we can keep the bandages off for the most part today," Shinra says, walking in all doctor-like. "Keep gauze over the incision until its pretty much healed, which should be another week or so. Staples out around then too."

"They sting and itch," Izaya complains miserably as Shinra unwraps his head. His hair has grown back almost half and inch, giving him a dark scruffled look, certainly aiding in the disgruntled glares he gives anyone who helps him with day-to-day tasks. Mostly me, but I find them almost endearing.

A week goes by and he can walk across the room slowly, so Shinra sends him home so long as I promise to help him out. And I do. I put up with his snaps and annoyed pushing away when I help him, though I'm pretty sure he knows he'd be bed-bound without me.

It's his turn to be pissed off at me, and I can't deny a little smugness at the payback.

"I'm sorry," he says after we are heading back from his staple removal. His hair was covering the scar nicely, and if he hadn't lost so much weight, no one would have guessed what he'd been through for the past seven months.

"For what?" I ask, ignoring stares from those who knew damn well that we should be trying to kill each other, not me trying to help steady him as he for the most part walks independently down the sidewalk in Shinjuku.

"The uh... the graveyard bit back there. It was a bit over the top. You weren't supposed to see that and it wasn't supposed to be so pathetically dramatic."

"Closure comes in lots of ways," I tell him, opening the door to his condo complex for him. "Forget it."

"I could have killed you."

"Not like you haven't tried before."

"Not for real. You could have died and I'd have nobody, even more so than before. It's kind of lame, but I have a lot of gratitude towards you, you stupid gorilla."

Ah, pride. A barrier between us that has yet to truly come down. But I kind of like our dynamic of affection veiled by insults, sarcastic complaints of cliché shonen-ai endings and wild sex. Though we haven't had much of a chance these past few weeks, we take what we can get (or what he can handle).

It's a strange kind of love, but it's there. I just don't want to say it.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Just be glad you didn't try to kill you dad four times instead of three." Nervous chuckle between us. I think he felt embarrassed over the whole thing. I would have been, lashing out like that. But it's okay. "I forgive you, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

And that was that. It was dropped.

Back in his lounge Izaya stretches his limbs in a manner that is not only a relief that he can, but in a way that allows me to admire his lithe figure. Bastard was provoking me again, but in a totally different manner. I would take him up on it later however.

I bring in the mail and smile at a package when I see the return address. "Hey."

"What?"

"Catch."

I throw the bubble envelope at him and he opens it, confused. The look on his face is priceless – I'll remember it forever I think. I can't even describe the surprise, the wonder or the awe across his whole body when he finds a paperback book in his hands that reads "Caste of Humans by Orihara Izaya."

"You didn't..."

"I did."

He flips through it slowly and approaches me, lost in thought. Then he throws his arms over me suddenly, making me stumble backwards. "You idiot! This is awesome!"

"All your Ghosts are put to rest then, right?"

"New ones will rise, but these are dead. Thanks to you. Really. You're a dumbass sometimes, but you're really … I dunno, something. I can't think of anything that doesn't sound really cheesy right now."

I laugh and just run my fingers through through the scruff on his head tenderly. I won't say the words. It's not the right time, and it may never bee. I'm okay with that. He asked me not to cheapen them, so I won't. He can feel it, so it doesn't need to be said. Any Ghosts that show their faces from here on out we can face together, head on.

"So what happens now?" I ask.

"I don't know." Izaya says softly. "And I don't care."

**END SEVEN GHOSTS**