Mute |Shizaya| (Currently Editing)

Chapter 11 - Stained Faces and Bitter Kisses

"Make time to fill the cracks, or turn away and give them your back..."

June 3 2:40 P.M.

They were going to pull the plug. The plug. The fucking plug!

Shinra sat on the metal chair, his head in his hands with his fingers twisted into his hair and pulling, looking down at the white floor of the hospital room his friend was being held in. Tears brimmed his eyes, biting his lip and tried hard not to let out a cry. Thoughts raced a hundred miles per hour as he just sat there, starting to slightly shake.

'It's my fault it's my fault it's my fault it's my fault it my fault...' The mantra kept on running through his head. His heart clenched as his grip on his hair tightened and the blurring of his eyes became worse. He bit his lip harder as one tear slipped from his left eye, he didn't even notice, his full attention on his mantra in his head. He was tired, he was hungry, and he was suffering. Shinra didn't mean to. Of coarse, he wasn't the one who had driven a blade into Izaya's throat, but he was the one who told Shizuo even about the Carotid Arteries. He should have known the second he had asked that question. "Hey Shinra, if you rip out someone's Vocal Cords, will they die?" The memory soon took its place in his head, as his mantra was in the background, just make the memory heavier and heavier as the crack doctor's shoulders started to sink. A whimper escaped the underground Doctor as the tears started appearing faster, and rolling slower. How could he? He specifically aimed for the vocal box, in which was fatal enough to kill Izaya! Oh his friend wouldn't see the next day. They were giving up on him!

Shinra had cried out no when they proposed it, and he got angry and annoyed that they would even think such things. Even after the doctors told him that Izaya's chance of waking up was under 3%, he was going to be by his side until he woke. Even after they told Shinra Izaya was already dying, and slowly, he still refused to let his friend leave his side, and he still refused to leave his. Even when the doctors said all the tests came back negative and that his friend wouldn't wake up a week after the idea was proposed, he still denied.

We. Wasn't. Going. To. Leave. His. Side.

He knew, deep down, Izaya was strong enough. His wouldn't let his ego deflate like that. He had too much pride to even consider giving up, especially if others were making the choice for him. Izaya was stubborn and thick headed, he wasn't going to let people end his life because they were tired of him and because they needed more space in the hospital. Right?

So as Shinra sat there, tears streaming down his bowed head, his fingers tangled in his heart, his lip bleeding from biting too hard, he shook. He didn't shake in fear, but in anger. He was angry at Shizuo. Shinra always opposed of Shizuo being a monster, but after all he has done to Izaya, he might as well be one. The old Shinra would say Izaya deserved it, but no, no one deserves what Izaya was going through. Even after all of the horrible, sick, and twisted things he had done to others. Shinra knew better, he knew much more than others, and even though Izaya always said he was wrong, he was right. He could see through Izaya and he could always nail Izaya right on the spot, and he knew how much he was hurting. Izaya was making damage to himself, he was in denial, he was afraid. And look where that got him, strapped down to his death bed. After flirting with death, and skipping along the border between Life and Death, he got what he always seemed to be perusing, when Izaya was really always confused of what he wanted and afraid to admit that he was, in fact, wrong.

What could the Crack Doctor do now though? Nothing. He was useless. Izaya only let Shinra examine him, he was his personal doctor, so Shinra felt guilt and sorrow and at fault when he heard that Izaya had landed in the hospital. He remembers scaring Celty when he got the message and he stood frozen. He sat there, on that metal seat next to Izaya's death bed, going over how it all went down. His nails digging into his scalp, as shallow gasps escaped his open mouth, eyes wide open, continuing to cry his feeling out and all the pent up frustration.