(yo. new story from aj, yeah? it's sort of long.
note :: this is au. ish. get it? got it? good.
disclaimer :: no, don't own anything izaya. or durarara. not even posters. orz)
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n o t /a p p l i c a b l e.
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It's simple, really.
She dislikes him. Greatly.
There's just something about him that irritates her. Maybe it's his ever knowing gleam in his eyes. Or maybe it's his always calculating gaze.
Whatever it is, Namie Yagiri does not like Izaya Orihara. Never have, never will.
Of course, this is all blatantly obvious to him.
After all, he knows everything.
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They are teenagers.
She feels uptight and held back. She wants to be free. But she continues to study because she knows it is perfect. Perfect for her, perfect for her dreams.
She thinks that if she keeps studying, one day, she could be queen of her own chessboard. Not his. No, never his.
He watches her from a quiet distance, eyes cruel, lips set into his signature smirk. He knows of her dreams. Of her hopes.
He laughs inwardly at all the fun he would have breaking her.
She flinches unconsiously.
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She graduates, and finds herself faced with the hard, cold, reality. She takes everything in with a poker face, and soon she finds herself working up and up and up.
She forgets about him and his black-and-white glances.
But he hasn't forgotten about her. He still keeps a distance, willing to have patience. Willing to wait for her, his big finale.
In the meantime, causing chaos will suffice for his boredom. Humans are just so interesting. How unique they were! How predictable! How utterly complexing!
He grins as he declares his love for all of humanity.
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They both grow up a little. She stops taking so much pleasure in work, and he stops taking so much pleasure in simple little mind games.
They meet, for a moment, in a convenience store.
He quickly plans out all possible scenarios and chooses the most predictable one. It goes perfectly. She stumbles over the sight of him, he catches her a little, and she mumbles a greeting before stiffly walking over to the cash register to pay for her things.
She grows up even more and starts taking pleasure in quiet, peaceful, afternoons.
Meanwhile, he starts taking pleasure from more complicated mind games.
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She's stopped climbing the ladder to success.
The company that she worked in suddenly collapsed. The president disappears; he is unreachable. All official files and documents have been deleted, and she is suspicious.
When he comes waltzing into her life, she reluctantly clings on. With her fancy apartment rent and her assorted bills to pay, she wouldn't last. And so she unwisely grows dependant on him.
He accepts her with cunning grace. And she doesn't have a doubt in her mind that he had something to do with her failed job.
The death of her company was too clean. Too planned. And yet, her mind argues, it wasn't planned at all. It was a pile of coincidences. But she knows him. She knows of his stealthy ways.
She looks at him with a fierce loathing in his eyes.
He takes one look at her and laughs, wild and slighty maniacal. She always was an open book.
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She eventually breaks down and accepts his job offer. It's to be a secretary, he says. Don't worry, it'll be easy, he says.
She's even more nervous when he says that. Rule One in her book has always been to never trust him or what he says. Not even what he does. For he is the epitome of false reality.
But it is fine. She finds out that most of the work he does isn't legal. And that's alright. She is used to Underground dealings already. Seiji never was destined for the legal path of living.
She smiles, just a little, when she finds books and books of possibly illegal accounts of previous deals. She isn't surprised. She isn't surprised at all.
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She hasn't heard from her brother in a year. She gets a little (a lot) twitchy, but she reminds herself that he was always like this, distant and alien.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She asks him about it. Surely he would know something.
He gives a little shrug as he opens today's newspaper.
"Oh, he died about a year ago. Or maybe murdered is more of the term." He pauses, waiting for a reaction, and he hears the sound of knees thudding onto the floor. He smirks in delight before continuing, "After all, he died in a gang fight."
She's ripping the paper out of his hands, expression both scared and furious. She speaks with a forced calm. "Why wasn't I informed?"
His face remains normal and uncaring, for smirking in happiness wouldn't be tactful. "Well, it was illegal, you know, and they never found the body. They called you, but... well, you were busy."
Her face contorts into an unfamiliar mask of grief, and maybe he feels the slightest twinge of guilt. "Where was I?" She whispers, and he returns to his normal state of mind, for this is his crowning moment.
"You were with some guy at the movies. And... whoopsies! I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. I guess I had more important stuff to do that day."
He waits a little, testing her patience, and then stands arubtly. He dismisses himself. He closes the door as he hears her sobs of pain. He feels triumphant.
Now the real fun will begin.
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Over time, she loses her mind. Her will to live.
Distantly, in a realm far beyond her instinct, she wonders if he's happy now. If he's found some other girl to torture.
She grins, lost in insanity, at that thought. He's gone, she thinks. He's gone forever.
But once she gains consiousness and sees his face in mock worry, she spirals into despair.
She is told that he is her caretaker now. She takes this with unthinking numbness.
It's fine. She has nothing to lose now, anyway.
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It's been a year, already. He planned for this. He's invested so many years of his life for this.
And yet he's angry. Angry at her late reactions, her numbness to everything, her uncaring attitude to her life.
He's planned out what she might do years ago. And yet she's not doing it. She's not doing any of it.
She's not fueled by ruthless fury, like he thought she might. She's not fueled by sadness. He was so caught up in his victory that a flaw in his plan passed his careful inspection.
And he laughs a little ironically, sometimes, when he knows she can't hear. She's actually surprised him for once.
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She goes on with her everyday life. Confident and cocky, he tries to revive her.
Soon, he would catch the gleam in her eye and smirk, thinking that everything was according to plan again.
But it would fade as she thinks about all she didn't do. She didn't save her own job. Her own brother. Her own life. And she thinks that with enveloping self-hatred.
He frowns a little, because her stubborn refusal to go along with his masterplan did not bode with him well.
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He has had enough of her and her vacant presence. He wants her to smile or frown or laugh or glare or do anything to get away from this hideous monotony that she created.
Out of desperation and pure annoyance, he kisses her. Rough and wild and almost-tender, he pulls her limp body to his own and wills her to resist. To slap him. To get angry.
But she didn't do any of those.
Instead, she pulls him closer after an uncertain moment of hesitation and kisses back. And his lip quirks up a little when she pulls away.
She has unwittingly surprised him.
...again.
And he smiles like a child in an amusement park. Humans are just so interesting.
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She's slowly coming back to life.
He's slowly being fascinated by her and her odd ways.
But that doesn't mean he'll stop sadistically playing with her and her emotions. No, he'll probably play with her even more than before.
She realizes this, and sighs.
She's always disliked him.
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f i n.
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(comments are always appreciated. because i'm new to this fandom, and it was a little weird writing these characters.)