First: I (still) don't own any of those characters. -.-

Second: AU... (Since neither Izaya nor Shizuo would ever go to a hospital since they have Shinra and well because of other things as well... but I don't want to spoil you too much of the story.)

Third: have fun reading and please comment!

The Circle of Life

When I woke up, I realised that I was still in one of the hospitals in Ikebukuro. The familiar uncomfortable, sterile white bed was giving me a morning greeting in the form of a backache. The walls and ceiling were an ugly white as well. I had to stay there for a few days more. The doctor said that I would be allowed to walk today if the results of my check-up were okay, but in the meanwhile I had to use a damn wheelchair. How I hated that thing. If they denied me walking that day, I swore to myself that I would break that fucking four-wheeler!

My shitty room wasn't getting any better, so I sat down in that hated thing and rolled outside, towards the garden. The hospital was in a quiet part of Ikebukuro, though it was never really quiet there either, but at least the sounds of cars and masses of people were only a background sound. After having enjoyed the scenery for long enough, my stomach started grumbling. Because my wallet was still in my room, I decided to head there first and then to the cafeteria. Of course there were normal meals served to the patients in the hospital but I would never eat that crap. I took the elevator and after having passed two corners and three rooms, I realised that I was on the wrong floor. The door I had already opened didn't show me my room but one with only one unknown person lying in it.

That person seemed to be around my age but the difference between us was that he was unconscious and several machines were connected to him by wires and he was receiving an intravenous therapy as well. He couldn't even breathe by himself. That was when I thought that it might not be so bad to sit in this rolling chair just for another day or two. A few moments went by and I was still staring at that patient. He was definitely the good-looking type. Before he came here, he had probably spent a lot of time in front of the mirror, admiring himself, his slim but muscular build, his brown hair and smooth sk – ! What the hell was I thinking about? I shouldn't have been there. I wouldn't like others watching me if I were in his position.

Why was he here anyway? A sickness? An accident? Or maybe even a suicide attempt? I couldn't make it out just from watching him from the door. Should I get closer? . . . Why was I still there? I had wanted to go ages ago, right? What was so interesting in that person? Anyway, after I took a quick look, I would definitely – 100% – leave there and roll back to my own room. So I entered, closed the door behind me and moved to the end of his bed where the medical cart was. Looking at it didn't help me at all. I didn't know what that weird-sounding diagnosis meant. I was not even sure if I had read it right. The doctor in charge here should've really – I mean REALLY really – gone back to the elementary school at least once to learn how to write legibly! Well, just taking another look at the patient would probably help my curiosity as well. Maybe I would get a hint if I could look at his face?

No sign of anything. The only visible thing was the most beautiful person I had seen so far. I wished he'd open his eyes. They had to be amazingly beautiful as well. Which color would they be? Would they be brown like his hair? Grey would suit him perfectly as well. What kind of person he was, what hobbies he had and many other unanswered questions shot through my head while I continued to simply look at him. He was like a complicated puzzle which I wasn't able to solve. Of course – normally – I would destroy a puzzle right away since I wasn't a patient person but that sleeping beauty in front of me only awoke my interest more and more. In fact I was so fascinated by him that I couldn't even hear the door opening.

"What are you doing in here?"

Those words called me back to reality and came from a guy wearing a white coat.

"Ah, I am sorry, doctor. Actually I am currently staying in room 107 on the fifth floor. It seems I messed the floors up. I was on my way outside again but as you see, turning around takes some more effort for the current me. I am still not used to the wheelchair."

"This room may be room number 107 as well but this is the fourth floor, the intensive care unit. You shouldn't even be able to enter this area since there is a door keeping outsiders out."

"A door? I haven't used any doors but this one here. Maybe it was open? Anyway, I should better leave if it's the intensive care. Once again, I am very sorry about that."

Rolling back through the corridors, into the elevator, exiting it on the right floor and entering my own room was something I did without thinking about it, since my thoughts were still thinking about that brown haired guy. On the name plate in front of the room, the name Orihara Izaya was written. Hopefully, he would get well soon.

The days went by and my discharge got closer and closer. I was finally allowed to walk around. Every day I ended up in front of the closed intensive care door at least three times. I still didn't understand why but I was drawn to that person. I wanted to know if there were changes in his health or if he even had woken up. It was astonishing how that one meeting could change my pace so completely. I hadn't been outside at all. If I wanted to have a change of the scenery, I always ended up passing the corridor which led to his room. Even though I couldn't visit him, I still had to go there to put my mind at some kind of ease.

On the fifth day after meeting him, Ms. Alita - a nurse who had noticed my behavior - asked me if it had a special reason for me turning up in front of the intensive care unit so regularly. After searching for the right way to answer, I said:

"A few days ago I messed up the floor and ended up in a room of the intensive care. There was a young man lying in there connected to a lot of machines. I am just wondering if his condition is already better. I am not acquainted with him in any way but I can't get my mind off of it."

"Well, if you can tell me the room number or his name, I can take a look and see how he is doing though I won't be able to tell you any details."

"That would be more than enough. Please do so!" I answered instantly. I was so grateful that I even forgot to blame those damn privacy policies.

When Ms. Alita came back, she had a troubled look in her face.

"I am sorry to tell you that the chances of Mr. Orihara's recovery are almost zero. He is already hospitalized for quite some time and only his family willing to pay for his hospital bill is keeping him alive. I am really sorry but that is already more than I am allowed to tell you."

She looked sincere while telling me all this and I managed to thank her for giving me that information. Shocked and with the feeling of wanting to cry or kill someone, I escaped the hospital and walked around in the neighborhood, trying desperately to clear my head.

In the end I was only able to calm down slightly and, in addition to that, I had gotten depressed and restless at the same time. It was highly unusual for me to feel that way. To feel anger or frustration was more like me. When I arrived at the hospital, my legs were aching quite a bit. I had been running around too much for my condition. When I was near my room, someone called out for me.

"Mr. Heiwajima! You don't look that well. Since you're a patient, you need to take better care of yourself!"

I turned around and saw Ms. Alita standing a few meters behind me.

"Yeah, I'm sorry but I just had to go out for a while."

"Are you that worried about that young man?"

"It seems like it," I answered truthfully and let out a sigh.

"Well, I can't promise you anything but if you rest properly for today and you feel like walking around on the fourth floor again tomorrow in the afternoon, there might be a door standing open. Maybe that would help you with your current troubles."

She showed me a warm and understanding smile. Not so much the smile but the possibility to see that person again, made my heart feel lighter. I smiled back, thanked her once again and left for my bed. I couldn't wait for the next day and decided to sleep early. Of course it didn't go my way but eventually the night, the morning and the noon came and went by.

I was greeted by Ms. Alita with the words:

"You have to wait a bit more, I am sorry. His family is visiting…"

"Oh, okay. Then I wait over there."

I pointed at a bench on the other side of the corridor. "I don't know how long they're going to stay."

"It's fine. I'll wait."

About half an hour later, a middle-aged woman and two girls came out of the intensive care. One of the girls was talking lively while the other one was more the silent type but both of them were definitely related to him. I wondered which one of them resembled his character more.

"Mr. Heiwajima? You can come in now. Make sure no one sees you and, if you get caught, I know nothing!"

"I am in your debt."

"The doc might come in around 5 pm. Make sure you're gone by then."

I nodded and hurried to the place I had wanted to go for the last several days: next to the bed of the person called Orihara Izaya. When I arrived at his side, everything was still like it had been before. Snow White was still sleeping like death after eating the poisoned apple and the only difference was that even a prince wouldn't be able to wake her up. Was there anyone who loved him enough to try kissing him at least once to make sure? I wanted to be sure – to make sure – of it. Should I do it? I couldn't ask another person to do it since nobody knew I was here. It wouldn't hurt him if I took away the respiratory mask just for a second and give him a small kiss, right? But, but if it was so, what then? In the end I was so nervous that I only held his hand. It was warm and soft unlike mine.

"Alita" is the nickname of a great friend of mine. I just wanted to show my love for her and she is a nurse in real life as well, so I couldn't help myself and added her. I hope you can forgive me for that.

Another thing is that Izaya is in the 4th floor of the hospital... That was intentional because in Japanese the number "four" and the word "death" have the same pronunciation: "shi" (though their Kanji are different) and so it's a very unlucky number.