❝i wish you'd hold me when i turn my back❞
better a game than a joke | durarara!! | 530 words | izaya orihara ; namie yagiri | pg |
in which namie attempts to kill some time and izaya succeeds in crushing some spirits.
Better a Game Than a Joke
Even Namie isn’t sure why she visits here so often. And yet, as least twice a week, she finds herself here on her way home from work. It isn’t that she’s dawdling, it’s just that going home to Seiji with his arms wrapped around the toy she created for him is enough to make her feel ill. And that girl-she never did bother to learn her name-is fully content to be a doll in his hands, obeying his every whim without truly knowing him. And therefore, Namie has decided, what they have is not love.
Not that she would know, she thinks idly as she ascends the staircase. However much she cares for her brother, no matter how much she wishes he’d wrap his arms around her and offer her love and support, she doesn’t lust after him. Despite the fact that her love for him knows no bounds, she is not in love with him. And she never will be. But despite knowing that full well, she cannot stomach the sight of him and his toy. And she cannot go home, knowing they’ll be there.
So she ends up at Izaya Orihara’s office as an attempt to kill time. She doesn’t bother to knock, or announce her presence; she simply turns the doorknob and enters, as regal and icy as a queen.
“Back so soon?” He is turned around in his swivel chair, facing the window and not her. And yet before she has even opened her mouth, he knows she’s there. She can almost hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “So is this visit for business, or pleasure?”
Hearing that last word on his tongue, she stiffens. She is about to make a snappish comeback when she remembers that she is the intruder and not the intruded upon. “I had some time,” she replies idly, “and I hardly think that you have much company, up here. You’re quite the hermit.”
Izaya chuckles, at that, and swivels his chair around. He doesn’t mention that he’s out in the open in Ikebukuro more often than she is, or that the reason he isn’t out and about all the time is because a certain blonde bartender would have his head for it. Instead, he allows his thin lips to curve into a self-satisfied smile.
“Well then colored me honored by your attentions,” he replies, and, as always, she cannot tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not. When he doesn’t say anything else, she walks forward to glance over his shoulder.
“What is it, exactly, that you do up here all day?” she asks suspiciously.
He shrugs lackadaisically as he lets out another chuckle. “Gather information, make plans…play a few games.”
“Like that?” She asks, indicating the checkerboard laden with miscellaneous game pieces.
“That’s not a game,” he replies with mock horror. “It is a very carefully laid out plan.”
She looks him straight in the eye, utterly disbelieving.
“It just also happens to be a game,” he says, conceding.
“I’m beginning to think your entire life is one big game,” Namie says dismissively.
“Better that than what yours it.”
“Which is?” She demands, defensive.
“A joke.”
this was basically just an exercise in writing their characters before i write a more romantically-inclined fic for them. :>
in which namie attempts to kill some time and izaya succeeds in crushing some spirits.
Better a Game Than a Joke
Even Namie isn’t sure why she visits here so often. And yet, as least twice a week, she finds herself here on her way home from work. It isn’t that she’s dawdling, it’s just that going home to Seiji with his arms wrapped around the toy she created for him is enough to make her feel ill. And that girl-she never did bother to learn her name-is fully content to be a doll in his hands, obeying his every whim without truly knowing him. And therefore, Namie has decided, what they have is not love.
Not that she would know, she thinks idly as she ascends the staircase. However much she cares for her brother, no matter how much she wishes he’d wrap his arms around her and offer her love and support, she doesn’t lust after him. Despite the fact that her love for him knows no bounds, she is not in love with him. And she never will be. But despite knowing that full well, she cannot stomach the sight of him and his toy. And she cannot go home, knowing they’ll be there.
So she ends up at Izaya Orihara’s office as an attempt to kill time. She doesn’t bother to knock, or announce her presence; she simply turns the doorknob and enters, as regal and icy as a queen.
“Back so soon?” He is turned around in his swivel chair, facing the window and not her. And yet before she has even opened her mouth, he knows she’s there. She can almost hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “So is this visit for business, or pleasure?”
Hearing that last word on his tongue, she stiffens. She is about to make a snappish comeback when she remembers that she is the intruder and not the intruded upon. “I had some time,” she replies idly, “and I hardly think that you have much company, up here. You’re quite the hermit.”
Izaya chuckles, at that, and swivels his chair around. He doesn’t mention that he’s out in the open in Ikebukuro more often than she is, or that the reason he isn’t out and about all the time is because a certain blonde bartender would have his head for it. Instead, he allows his thin lips to curve into a self-satisfied smile.
“Well then colored me honored by your attentions,” he replies, and, as always, she cannot tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not. When he doesn’t say anything else, she walks forward to glance over his shoulder.
“What is it, exactly, that you do up here all day?” she asks suspiciously.
He shrugs lackadaisically as he lets out another chuckle. “Gather information, make plans…play a few games.”
“Like that?” She asks, indicating the checkerboard laden with miscellaneous game pieces.
“That’s not a game,” he replies with mock horror. “It is a very carefully laid out plan.”
She looks him straight in the eye, utterly disbelieving.
“It just also happens to be a game,” he says, conceding.
“I’m beginning to think your entire life is one big game,” Namie says dismissively.
“Better that than what yours it.”
“Which is?” She demands, defensive.
“A joke.”
this was basically just an exercise in writing their characters before i write a more romantically-inclined fic for them. :>