Durarara: Please, Izaya

Chapter Nine

  "Hey, flea?" although they were on good terms, Shizuo hadn't dropped the nickname.
  Izaya looked over at him, "Hm?"
  "Can I see your arms?"
  At this Izaya panicked, his face became hot, and he broke out into a cold sweat. He hadn't cut his arms since he said he'd try to recover--although there were now several wounds on his thigh--but Shizuo's request terrified him nonetheless. Does he suspect I've cut myself? Does he already know I did? He'll have to see the scars and still healing wounds. No no please no.
  "Uh-um," he stammered unable to say anything. He wanted to ask why, or at least say no, but he struggled to get a sound out.
  "Izaya, I trust you and don't expect you've done anything, but I also know this isn't something you have complete control over so could you, please, just let me check..."
  Izaya bit his lip and pulled his sleeves over his hands and attempted his normal drawl, "It's of no benefit to you to see them. I can assure you I haven't done anything," but one look at Shizuo and he faltered, his face falling, "...I don't want you to see...no one ever has besides Shinra, and that was strictly medical. I can't just let you."
    "Let me. Izaya, let me see them," he urged softly. Gently, he placed his hands over Izaya's, "Please, let go."
  Izaya let go of his sleeves, and Shizuo pushed them up as far as they'd go. He looked over the marks covering the information broker's arms. There were layers of them, clearly older, faded scars had been covered by new slices over the years. The freshest ones were mostly healed by now.
  "There are more, aren't there?"
  Izaya bit his lip harder as tears threatened to spill. He nodded reluctantly. As Shizuo moved his hands to the hem of his shirt and prepared to lift it off, Izaya grabbed his wrist firmly.
  Not even bothering to attempt a facade of composure, he croaked, "No," and a sob overtook him, "Please no. Please Shizuo, don't look. They're so ugly. I don't want you to see them, please," he brought his knees up to his chest whispering, "Please please please, I promise I haven't done anything, please..."
  Shizuo watched him tremble, holding onto his knees as though that was the only way he could keep from falling apart.
  "Hey," he draped his arm over Izaya's shoulders and pulled him to his side, "hey, it's okay. I don't need to see right now. It's alright...it's alright."
  "I'm sorry," Izaya kept his gaze low in shame as tears fell from his eyes.
  "It's alright," Shizuo hushed him, "Everything is okay, you don't need to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong," Shizuo didn't really know what to say to calm Izaya, he was honestly scared shitless seeing Izaya, of all people, break down like this.
  After his breathing evened out, Izaya wrapped his arms around Shizuos waist, tears still falling silently from his eyes. Izaya rested his cheek on Shizuo's chest, tired from sobbing, "Shizuo, I...I'm doing well, really I am," he mumbled.
  Shizuo leaned over and kissed the top of his friend's head as concern chewed at his mind.

Shizuo's Point of View
I want to believe Izaya's doing better, but he still seems off. Not only did he just burst out like that, something unheard of for the likes of Izaya Orihara, but he had been acting far too calm for someone recovering from such an addiction. Considering how dependent he had been on self harm, it seems odd to me that he'd been getting along just fine without it.
  I know I was suddenly asking for a lot from him, showing his scars is personal, but I had only expected minor discomfort or embarrassment; nothing like this. Something seems off in the way he kept me out, but perhaps he's just adjusting. Every time I want to talk with him I fail to find the words to say, and when I do approach it he seems to shy away from answering me.
  I didn't want to bother him again as he had just exhausted himself, but I wanted to get it over with. Get it all out on the table. Ask him the questions that were piling up.
  Just as I was about to insist on at least getting some formal answers from him, Izaya drew away and pulled his shirt over his head.
  "Just go ahead and look," he said with his head low.
  Izaya was right, these were far worse than the ones on his arm. Although the majority of scars were on his arm, most of them were shallow marks. The scars on his upper arms in particular were far deeper than the majority of the marks on his forearm. The cuts on his torso were concentrated on his shoulders and chest, but I could see white raised marks just above his belt. I didn't want to look too long to save his embarrassment, but there were so many.

A/N-I may have made Izaya a bit too out of character, but I was kind of trying to show how mental disorder, specifically the anxiety involved in self harming can affect even someone "strong" like Izaya...hopefully it was alright. Also sorry that I'm awful, and it's been years since I published last.