Author's Note: This is just a little something that was inspired by something I saw on zerochan. Not sure if it will be continued or just remain as a one-shot. I think it would be a cute multi-chapter one, but we'll see. Review or something perhaps~
The loft had always been pleasantly quiet, even in the middle of the day when the rest of the city was loud and busy with the bustling of everyday life; even when trains rattled against the lines and people yelled and shouted and called across the streets and cars hummed here and there, the loft was quiet. Those wide windows, the ones which stretched from floor to ceiling on the far wall, opposite the door and just behind a wide, impressive desk filled with papers and a computer that looked as if it had never been touched. What else was to be expected from Izaya Orihara?
The informant in question was sat behind that impressive desk, glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he peered over them at the figures and photos and writing scattered on various paper in front of him. He was more than content with doing his work, digging out all this information and bits and bobs and revealing it to whom he pleased when he pleased. That was his world, and he liked it very much.
He wasn't alone though, another figure sat in the loft, on the sofa just across the room. This figure, another man, was almost the exact copy of the information broker. They had the same face, the same hair, the same eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. Their clothes were different, their personalities were different, and their insides were different. One was real, the other was not.
"Iza-chan?" cooed the man on the sofa. His chin was rested on his knees, which had been raised up to his chest a short while ago. Slim arms curled around the front of them, hugging them close to him. His name was Psyche, and though his eyes shimmered, he couldn't cry. Robots weren't allowed such a novelty like that.
"Nn~?" Izaya replied with a hum, not looking up from his paperwork, but at least acknowledging the call of his name. There was a little pause, a small gap of silence that filled the air like the smoke of a cigarette before Psyche spoke again.
"I think I'm broken," the little raven piped up. This time, Izaya stopped for a minute to look up and glance briefly at the other figure. The look on Psyche's face said that something wasn't right.
"That's not possible Psyche," he replied after a minute, turning back to his work once again. "You just underwent maintenance,"
"B-but—" Psyche spluttered, a little frown crinkling his forehead now. "Recently whenever I think of Tsugaru-san, I feel weird. All fluttery and silly and hot inside like I have a virus or an error,"
Izaya didn't look up, but he couldn't help the little smile tweak at his corners. How could a robot ever understand what love really was?