Yaaaay, new story… I hop around with stories way too much , I swear I'll get back to all of them, though! I will NOT leave any of them unfinished (unless I get in a horrible accident… O.o wait, no, scratch that, I didn't say that!) Ahem, anyway, this fic is definitely after Shizuo's been framed, but I don't know if it's before the start of the series, DURING the series (I doubt this choice), or after the series ends (in the anime, at least… but I really hope a second season comes out T^T)
Orihara Izaya, parkour and informant extraordinaire. But how many people knew him when he was little? How many people know about his past? Going through so many stages in his life, he acquires something akin to MPD as he meets Shizuo... and KIDNAPS him?
This is more of a prologue than an actual first chapter, though, but please enjoy – I decided to post this mostly because I will be away for two weeks (dammit, why am I moving around so muuuuuuch? Curse you mother, father! JK I love you XD). So… until then, lovely readers ^^;
He was born Orihara Izaya, and he was young when he first began to see himself in a new light. And no, he didn't go through some physical or mental change. He was both physically and mentally healthy, thank you very much. Hmm… maybe the latter isn't quite correct, either…
When he was young, he was innocent and charming to everyone around him. People often complimented him on his good looks and innocence. It was enjoyable, being in the spotlight. But because he was so cute, his parents gave him everything he wanted and he eventually became a proud, spoiled brat. Yet everyone still praised him for his cute arrogance that displayed as a child-like rebellion to them.
He was conscious to this sudden change, but he thought nothing of it. "Change is an everyday thing," one of his uncles once said.
And as he got older, he realized that less people were doting on his cuteness and child-like arrogance. It was disappointing, but nothing really to throw a tantrum over. Nonetheless, he cried and screamed and kicked and punched the whole day, whimpering when his hand hit the stove turner. It had recently been cleaned (with a flammable cleanser, no less!), so it was inevitable that the house burned down, his parents along with it.
But he survived, and he learned a valuable lesson. That life was unfair. It was boring. And people were mean, subjective… idiots in his eyes. They rescued him, but left his parents to scream in the scorching heat… to be reduced to ashes. Why…WHY?
That same night he tried to off himself, his fingers curled around the cold handle of a scalpel as the tip trailed red lines across his wrists. He failed. He woke up to the blinding lights of another room in the same hospital. So he tried again, this time jumping from the roof of the hospital. But even death could not become his comfort as a doctor noticed him missing minutes before his jump, and was thus "rescued".
He was sent to a psychiatric hospital for the crisis stabilization unit, seeing as he was quite suicidal. The place was a prison to him so he practically blocked out all of his experiences. He shut himself in and made a cover so he could get out of there as fast as he could. He became kind, loving, gentle, naïve… everything he, at that time, wasn't. The doctors and others bought it, but they kept him there because of a few minor slip ups he made.
Namely one specific time when he sneaked out of the asylum. He was maybe eight years old when he did so, "borrowing" a black jacket with red fluff – the color of darkness and blood. He had the hood up and was staring out at Ikebukuro from the top of a high building when suddenly someone pulled him back.
"Wait a second!" a stranger had cried worriedly, making sure they were at least five feet away from the edge. "Geez… you could've really died like that!" the stranger exclaimed. "Ah, your wrists!"
The presently suicidal teen looked at his wrists and noticed they were bleeding – how could such old scars reopen? Ah, alas, it was pointless to ponder upon such a thought. Just that when every last drop of blood finally dribbled onto the floor, he'd be no more.
But something soft was wrapped around his wrists, and he looked at the stranger. The brown haired teen smiled gently, finishing tying the torn pieces of his scarf around the suicidal teen's wounds. "Every life is precious… your life is precious, so please don't waste it," he'd merely stated before waving at the other and leaving.
And to this day he treasured his being. He learned ways in which he could preserve his precious life. But along the way, he forgot his sole reason for self-preservation. He made deals with yakuza syndicates, fished for information, and had an unhealthy obsession with other people, claiming to love them but all the while toying with their lives as they had done with his parents.
And then came the day he made a deal with the Awakusu-Kai.
That day was the rebirth of Orihara Izaya.
What do you think? Please tell me what you think about it, and I'll get back to the reviews when I actually… get back home… or when I get access to the internet! Which… probably won't be until I get home… OTL