This one is a little blargh story that just kind of popped out of my brain. It will be a one-shot or a chaptered story depending on the comments I get, so vote now.

Disclaimer: I own this….PLOT. Not the characters.

Why was he the way he was? Why was he cruel, sadistic, etc, etc? Because he was lonely. That was the only way he could explain it. He was so desperately lonely. Sure he had a nice family and great grades, but that didn't help that he was in fact different. He was different because he didn't know how.

How to talk to people correctly?

He tried; he tried so many times. He would find his target, and study it. Study what he or she usually talks about with other people, study the way they start conversation, study everything there was to study. Then the scripts would come in the game. He always made scripts. Even when he just had to go to the store or buy tickets for a movie or something. He was uncomfortable talking to people, so he tried to copy the way they talked to others to do it right.

But it was never right for him.

He would always mess up; say something that he wasn't supposed to say. He knew too much, that was his problem. He knew too much about a person that he never talked to before and they would always label him in the matter of minutes.

Stalker.

Crazy.

Dangerous.

Nobody even tried to look at the person he really was. It was partly his fault too. He was so afraid that the humans he loved and studied so hard would hurt him, that he locked himself away. Became something he was not. He tried to fix all his flaws for them. He craved for attention. Because it hurt to be alone.

It hurt.

Drip, drop.

Fell the blood of his heart.

Drip, drop indeed.

He was always lonely, simply because he was different. Simply because he could not talk to people without making a script first. And that took time. In that time, he was left alone. Left alone to bleed. His heart ached when he saw all the love he was not a part of. They thought him boring, and left him. Therefore, he decided to make himself interesting. He made himself interested in everything they were interested into and more. He tried to make himself stand out. So they would notice him. Notice him and love him. Because he longed for love. He needed it. Love was his drug.

And they.

They despised him.

"Get away from us you freak, go back to the swap you crawled out of."

They called him crazy, a monster, a freak, a stalker.

And then.

Then he got mad.

And decided to give them exactly what they wanted.

If they wanted a crazy stalker, Izaya shall be a crazy stalker.

For them.

For his darling humans.

He let the blackness of insanity close in on him and then he made a pact with it. His soul for their love. He became insane. He still loved them, but in a different way. He loved to corner them, to torture them, to show them what kind of pain he was in. He would never let them know it was in fact he who caused their hardships. But he still loved to watch it, love to see all of them suffer and experience his pain.

They cannot love you. The insanity whispered.

He didn't understand why. He gave them everything they wanted. He made himself a monster for them; he gave up his soul to insanity and presented his heart to them. He loved them. He loved them so much it hurt. He loved them so much he destroyed himself for them.

And they.

They hated him even more.

What did I do? He wanted to ask.

He never did.

There was no one in this world to love him, no one to care the way he cared.

Notice me.

Please notice me.

You don't have to love me.

Just don't hate me.