Izaya let his back hit the wall, staying in that position until his legs gave out from under him and he slid down to the floor. He was just a crumpled figure in the corner of a dark room now. It didn't matter what he looked like or what his name was. This boy was nothing.

At one point, he could have been considered something: perfect. His grades were the best in his class without him putting in too much time or effort. Every possible award that he could win was claimed by him. If there were positions of power that were available he would occupy them without a second thought. This pattern continued as he strove to achieve painfully unrealistic goals set by none other than his father. The man who was supposed to push him to be his best had instead forced him into a never ending rat race that a child had no way of escaping. Never was he outright abusive towards his son, but he was more than neglectful to the boy. Long nights alone at home made Izaya grow up too much and too fast. He had to fend for himself most of the time, developing a strong sense of independence that soon became distance. In an attempt at subduing his feelings of isolation and inadequacy, he began delving in things more dark and twisted than what a boy his age would be interested in. Psychology and the workings of human beings absolutely enthralled him. At first it was just a hobby to kill the loneliness, but when his sisters came into the picture everything changed.

Mairu and Kururi's mother died during labor but were still favored by their father, who in turn cast Izaya further aside. His beautiful baby girls were the image of perfection in his eyes. That was the title Izaya always thought he had held and rightfully deserved. He worked harder to get his father's attention and when it didn't work, he simply gave up in every sense of the word. Grades slipping, and mental healthy declining, Izaya no longer had any motivation. For a while, his father didn't even notice since he was so wrapped up with the twins. But when a call from Izaya's teacher came, he was livid. The news of Izaya's poor academic behavior was blasphemous to an intellectual like himself. However, he wasn't the kind to get outright mad at someone. He would stay calm and carry out punishment in cold blood, and that was how things remained after the first night of beatings.

Time went on and Izaya found himself staying in his room for hours on end researching so he could escape the life he had right outside the door. He had amassed thousands upon thousands of articles on everything one could possibly want to know about. Izaya knew it all. But he wanted to put things into practice. Things started out small; his little mind games only served to make other kids cry. As he got older he got more serious though. It was like a child playing with matches unsupervised, which he did, until they got to the point where arson seemed acceptable. That was Izaya Orihara.

His knowledge and distorted views on the world set him apart from other people so much that he was desperate for any type of explanation as to why he was alone. The only thing he could come up with was that he was simply above silly humans and their predictable ways.

Even with that serving as some sort of comfort, he couldn't help but think that even gods need affection, of which he was deprived.

He found solace in the knives that he kept stashed in his dresser drawers after realizing that a little cut to the skin will release a flow of endorphins that made him feel almost happy. Each time he would do this he would go a little longer, a little deeper, make the cut a little more jagged. They covered the majority of his forearm and bicep with a few littered about his stomach. Izaya couldn't see anything wrong with it either, so he never stopped. This sick obsession of his grew until it was as bad as the games he played.

He gained more knowledge of ways to harm the body and get the same pleasant feeling he so desperately craved. Cuts lead into burns, burns lead to experimentation with pills. And he still saw this as okay. Nobody told him otherwise, so why wouldn't it be? It took his mind off of the abuse he went through every day so it couldn't be bad. Even if it was, he was above the standards set by the humans who surrounded him.

And then came the day he learned about suicide.


When he returned to school on Monday, nobody asked where he had been. This just reiterated the fact that his humans didn't care for him they way he did for them. Oh well.

Face propped up on his hand; he stared out the window in apathy. School was boring to him now since he had already learned everything there was for them to teach him. Everyone around him had already been taken apart and pieced together by him in earlier grades as well. Therefore, nothing mattered.

The idea of skipping school crossed his mind, but he had already endured too many beatings for that to really want to try again. It was worth it for a while actually. Then his dad became a bit more brutal in his disciplining.

A weary sigh passed his lips as he waited for the bell to ring, signaling lunch. 40 seconds. 30 seconds. 20. 10. 9. 8.

Izaya was out the door the second he heard that shrill sound. His feet were taking him up to the rooftop where he had always taken his lunches with Shinra if Shizuo wasn't there to try and demolish him. Kicking open the door, he took a spot beside his bespectacled friend. "Is my monster not here today?"

"Well, actually-"

"I'm right here, flea."

Izaya looked up to see the blonde towering over him and his hand immediately went to the switchblade in his pocket. To his surprise, Shizuo didn't try to kill him. He did the exact opposite and sat down on the other side of Shinra without another word.

A frown passed over the black haired boy's lips as he leaned over to look at Shizuo. "What? Too lazy to even try to hit me?"

"I don't wanna hit you," the blonde grumbled before taking a drink of his strawberry milk.

Izaya's eyes narrowed. This was out of his comfort zone. He could handle things quite easily if he was used to them; take pain for example. It was so prevalent in his life that he almost ignored it now. Almost. But this was too fucking unusual for him to adjust to. Shizuo was being civil towards him, good natured even. This went against everything he thought he knew and it scared him. "Why not? You hate me."

"I do hate you, flea. But I don't need to hit you. Your dad does it for me."


Oh god. I'm so sorry about this chapter guys, I was just angsting so hard and this story seemed like the perfect outlet. It's been a long day for me. I'll make it up to you in the following chapters, I promise.

Keep up the reviews everybody, you're amazing.

I love you all 3

~Chickadee