It hurts.

Why does it hurt?

Izaya flung his pillow across the room and aimed for it to hit the window, only to be disappointed when it barely brushed against his white walls. His breath was heavy and so was his heart. The organ was pulsing harshly behind his ribcages. He wanted to scream because although it wasn't the first time he'd gotten this feeling, it didn't mean he was used to it. This kind of feeling only degrades him who'd gone far up the pedestal.

"Stop it."

He croaked out, pulling his knees up to his chest and the heels of his palms are pressed against his eyes. Tears wouldn't even form in his eyes. What else could he do to put an end to this feeling, if he couldn't cry? The raven haired man was just left there to wallow in his pain. Oh, the agony. All the loneliness and deep sorrow washing over him like waves swallowing –and destroying- anything in its sight.

His lips parted in a silent scream and he wracked his brain over and over again to search for a person who'd be there for him. Yet, he found none. None that has accepted him for who he is and still stuck around to be by his side. One that would care about the problems he faced. He wanted a listening ear, but also a caring soul to fill this growing void inside of him.

I don't need anyone.

So don't be like this anymore.

He drew a sharp intake of breath and curled up in his bed.

"Izaya..."

A whisper of his name was heard. It took him a moment to register that that was his own voice, calling out in desperation. Izaya shook his head before pressing his cheek into the soft mattress enveloping his body, hoping that it'd make him feel better. With his crimson eyes glued to the buzzing city outside his window, he stayed awake through that night; on his mind was the beloved humanity he loved so dearly.