Where Is The Fire

Fuzzy

Chapter 3
Izaya

His world was dim, and his eyes heavy.
The air felt so swirled and mixed around. It was dark, but even though he was alone and he couldn't make out his surroundings; he felt warm. Safe.
He felt the shaking, the physicality, the panicked and orderly shouts, muffled by the buzzing in his mind. It was urging him figure out what was going on, to shake out of this comforting form of reality. The other side of him fought to stay; no one would miss him, there was no one who would welcome him back.

Shizu-chan...

Izaya blinked at a white ceiling. His entire body pulsed except for his waist and down. Numb. His head throbbed as he tried to process what was happening. Doctors and nurses were rustling throughout the room, calling out commands and checking on his feet, poking and prodding, asking questions that Izaya wasn't prepared to answer. His head was still groggy, like it was clogged with moss and sludge. He heard words he recognized but refused to process. "unstable." "sick." "disabled." "wheelchair."

A few days passed since Izaya returned to reality. Not too much has changed. No one visited him in the hospital, he continued to research his clients and those who kept reaching out to him. But there was one change. A change that the informant couldn't show anyone and hadn't yet come to terms with himself.

Izaya felt alone. Even the nurses and doctors around him didn't seem like they were there. Just useless bodies of nothing. He often wandered the empty halls, looking for something or someone. That special someone, but no matter how much he tried to jog his memory, there was nothing. No name or face. The feeling was there, and hadn't faded since the moment he woke up. The bodies wouldn't allow him to leave the building. He tried once or twice but after that, Izaya lost interest. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy the building. There was food, shelter, clothing...

Even so, someone was still missing from his life.

That evening, he made his way into the game room. Grinning, he pulled out his phone to check his messages. Oddly enough no one had sent him anything even though it was already noon. That was fine; they'd get back to him eventually.

"Mr. Orihara? You have a visitor."

A woman in white leaned over next to him. He felt patronized, like a child, and he didn't appreciate it. But he had a visitor? Izaya supposed he could spare her the humiliation of his special back talk.

"Hm?" He responded, making no eye contact with the bitch.

"You have about 10 minutes until closing time," the nurse said to the informant's visitor. "If you'd like to come back tomorrow-"

"No, 10 minutes is okay. Thank you."

A familiar voice.

Izaya turned and saw a blond man dressed as a bartender. He smelled like cigarettes and had a familiar aura, one that made him want to jump out of his seat and attack on sight.

"Hey, Izaya. Do you remember me?"

The man's face looked pained. Izaya took it as false pity and simple mockery. It made his blood boil, but there could have been something Izaya knew about him. Eerily familiar, he felt a sense of passion rising in his body.

"I have a few questions...Izaya, and if you could just hear me out-"

"You do seem familiar, but I'm afraid," Izaya said, inching a sly tone into his voice. "You have the wrong person. I don't think I've ever met you before in my life."