Summary: Izaya defines love in his own terms. Companion one-shot to Her Definition.
[A/N: Fucking love this couple.]
He supposes that, on some twisted level, he considers the two of them as equals. They both share this common fascination with the human race; a fascination that was probably borderline morbidly psychotic but a fanatic feeling nonetheless.
However, she was much more selective in her adoration while he was much more egalitarian. But he believes, under the right conditions, her love may have resulted quite differently.
Perhaps if she was nurtured rather than neglected, she would have been able to direct her love into a much healthier outlet than her own brother. But it was this very mutation that made her so interesting. Izaya had always been compelled by stories of incest because of his avid attraction to psychology and Namie was the perfect specimen.
He always, of course, does his best to exploit this flaw of hers. Namie's reaction to his verbal abuse has yet to bore him and he rather enjoys her malicious replies.
He glances up from his phone and silently watches his secretary sort files. Izaya concedes that ever since Namie was "hired", he had been spending more time than ever loving his humans and less time on the more mundane aspects of his game.
(He refers to life as a game simply because it is as such and also because he has yet to lose said game.)
Usually when he's not cheerily pushing teenaged girls to their deaths or being the incendiary to Ikebukuro's growing gang war, he spends his time home with Namie. They've formed this sort of rut; a pattern that had been created by habit and convenience.
"Namie-chan!" He likes the way her eyes cringe and the way her shoulders stiffen when he mentions her name. It's kind of like how Shizu-chan reacts but it's much more affable and Namie-like (besides, he hates any mention of that pathetic brute).
He also likes the way her eyes flicker upwards towards him. As well as the way she pointedly looks him in the eyes. It reminds him that they're the same; that Namie is no regular human, that she's special.
"What?" Her voice is sharp, blunt, and coldly professional.
"Now, now, Namie; is that any way to speak to your boss?" His voice is tainted with sarcasm as he waves his hands around with a flourish.
Namie declines to say anything but shows her disdain by rolling her eyes.
He feels a slight pout and is rather disappointed in her lack of participation in their daily banter. His eyes narrow for a second before he suddenly slams his hands onto her desk.
"All work and no play makes Namie a dull girl."
She merely widens her eyes in confusion and is so confounded that she barely notices when he grabs his fur coat and drags her out of the apartment complex.
He likes the way her green sweater feels under his hand and the way she mutters profanity all so coherently under her breath, especially when young children walk by with their mothers.
Simon greets him with a slight pause when he notices that Izaya is with unusual company tonight. But then again, the Russian soon realizes that nothing about Izaya is entirely usual.
When they're both seated and Izaya is studying the menu as if he's some inane tourist instead of a total whack job, he sneaks a peek at Namie. He's rather pleased with her dubious look and plans to enjoy himself for the evening. After all, even the resident troll needs a break from the suicides and being the sole cause for the imminent gang war.
So, for the time being, he'll show off.
"You see that woman sitting at the bar with a glass of sake in her hand?" Namie addresses his statement with a slight glance. There's a measly looking woman, barely over the age of twenty-one, that holds her glass with a shaky hand.
"She's actually a black market assassin that's on the run from both the CIA and the SIS. Apparently she killed some Middle Eastern prince and framed it as a coup d'état."
"You're bluffing." Her tone sounds as if she's insulted.
Izaya fails to reply and chooses to cackle instead. Within a few moments, he continues his little demonstration as he dishes out the dirt on every single patron in the restaurant.
"Do you see now, Namie? Do you see the full extent of my love? I know each and every person worth knowing in this very city. I know their likes and dislikes. Even the very things that make them cry at night." By now the restaurant is nearly empty, the only people left are those engaging in a shady deal of some type.
"I know how to twist their hearts and minds. I can make them cry or laugh with a few actions or even simply words."
"A monster like you couldn't even possibly fathom the word love." There's a soft snicker that emanates from her throat as she wipes her mouth with a napkin.
"Love isn't simply knowledge or manipulation, you idiot. Love is sacrifice. What have you possibly sacrificed for your humans?" With that stated Namie exits rather dramatically and leaves Izaya with the bill as always.
But there's this look of contemplation and thoughtfulness etched on the information broker's face; a look that gives Simon the chills as he walks by for he had never seen Izaya look so human.
He practically runs to Namie's apartment. And the only time Izaya ever runs is when he has Shizu-chan trailing behind him with a vending machine in hand.
Namie lives in a rather dilapidated building, a far cry from her previous cushy life. Izaya knocks on her door obnoxiously, uncaring of whether her neighbors would complain to Namie later.
She opens the door with stern eyes but he doesn't let her say a word.
"You say that I've never sacrificed for my humans." Her eyes slightly widen and her jaw tightens in response to his statement.
"But you're wrong."
"I've sacrificed my entire existence studying my humans. I've spent nearly every conceivable moment of my life thinking of way to express my love. What you fail to comprehend, Namie, is that my love isn't selfish like yours. My love fails to be defined by the likes of someone that has never been loved."
He's about to continue on but he stops as he looks into her eyes.
He can still see the blatant skepticism in her eyes but he thinks there's also another emotion.
"Funny you should say that, Izaya, since the same could also be said for you." Once again, Izaya feels rather baffled by her statement. There's this rush of intrigue that stirs fascination into his confused mind.
"I don't believe that I understand what you mean, Namie-chan. Of course I've been loved. . ."
"Did their concept of love match your own? Did they love you the same way that you love your humans? If they didn't, how can you possibly accept that as love if you don't define it as such?" Her questions are harsh to his ears but he feels a smirk growing on his face.
"It may be true that I am unloved, but I refuse to let you deny the truth." Namie continues to chastise him but Izaya had already stopped listening and started walking down the hall to exit the apartment complex.
"See you later." He waves rather lazily as he casually strolls away.
Izaya isn't afraid of the streets of Ikebukuro at any time of day except, of course, when a certain Shizuo is out and about.
He looks up at the polluted sky and gazes at the tainted moon.
"If what you say is true, Namie, wouldn't that make us the perfect pair? Two unloved people stuck with pathetic unrequited love lives?"
To which he laughs rather maniacally and the sounds of his laughter echo throughout the dark alleys of the city.