CHILDHOOD
Summary: He was the boy next door that sacrificed your cat, Mr. Fluffles, to Satan and would affectionately leave pieces of his entrails on your doorstep as gifts. AU. – Izaya, Namie.
Author Notes: Takes place in suburban America, just so you know.
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She still tasted bile whenever she thought back to the time it all started. The vomit that threatened to enter her mouth and stain her tongue made her shudder as she remembered that fateful day when her parents had decided to leave Uncle's mansion and make out a new life in gloriously dull suburbia. Her father spoke of the wonderful school located only a stone's throw away and her mother gushed about the all of the wonderfully domestic things that were often associated with crowded suburbs occupied by trite people and their kin. Unfortunately, Namie was only seven and seven-year-olds generally held little weight in any "adult" conversation; she was unable to voice her opposition to the horrid move and Seiji – her beautifully adorable little brother – was only three and still gurgled and believed that everything and anything was edible (even if it didn't necessarily fit in your mouth).
Thankfully, Namie wasn't alone during this horrific experience. She had Seiji as well as the highly esteemed and intelligent Mr. Fluffles. Mr. Fluffles was a cat of the highest caliber as well as her trusted confidante and friend. Namie had divulged all of her secrets and fantasies to this cat – who was much more of a person rather than a cat – and knew that Mr. Fluffles would never disappoint her. Mr. Fluffles was about the same age as Seiji, her parents after reading child development books had decided that it would be best for Namie to hone her maternal instincts and gifted her with Mr. Fluffles a few months prior to Seiji's birth (this gift was quite possibly the sole reason Namie tolerated her parents on any level besides the fact that they had also given her Seiji).
Needless to say, Namie depended on Mr. Fluffles and Seiji since they were the only anchors that kept her tied to the despicable reality forged by her parents.
Her very first impression of the "amazing" structure that she would soon call home for eleven long and cruel years was that it had much too many windows. The man who had designed the house (as well as every other house on the block) probably had a repressed fetish for windows and was sadistic to boot. With this many windows as well as the close proximity of the houses, the overwhelming feeling of paranoia was enough to make Namie's skin crawl with anxiety. A feel of nauseous washed over Namie when she overheard her mother speaking of "play-dates" and "block parties"; apparently, she was expected to intermingle with the vermin that also lived in their godforsaken cul-de-sac.
She opened the car door, carefully ensuring that Seiji still possessed the disembodied head of a Barbie she had once owned but had given to Seiji upon realizing his love of beheading dolls, and carried the great Mr. Fluffles out the vehicle. Namie could hear her mother and father talking to another couple just a few feet away. She felt a sudden rush of paranoia knock into her, almost making her fall onto the rough asphalt road beneath her feet. She tried to be stealthy – well, as stealthy as a precocious seven-year-old could be – and slowly turned her head towards the direction that she felt someone was watching her. Her gaze was directed towards the house – that was eerily perfect with a manicured lawn and fresh paint – situated right next to hers, and the feeling seemed to be emanating from a window that directly faced her house. It was as though there was something examining her through a microscope.
"Namie!" She turned her head towards the woman that was her mother, "This is Mr. and Mrs. Orihara. They'll be living next door to us, and they have a son your age. Isn't that just wonderful?" Her mother had pointed towards the house that Namie was sure that someone was watching her from.
Isn't that just wonderful?
Isn't that just wonderful?
Isn't that just wonderful?
Namie shivered as she held Mr. Fluffles close to her chest.
It was as though Namie already knew, for a fact, that the boy was pure, unadulterated evil.
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Nothing happened for a few weeks – well, almost nothing. Her parents told her that it was just nerves. That she was being silly as all children are when they move into a new neighborhood – that she was just going through a phase that occurred in every childhood. But Namie knew, she knew that someone was watching her from behind a curtain. Her parents had even been so cruel as to give her the room that directly faced the house next to theirs, the Orihara residence, the source of the evil. Sometimes Namie would hear noises coming from the backyard of the house, scary noises that only occurred at night that no one else would hear besides her. They sounded like small animals being mutilated with a rusty fork.
Despite her parents' words, Namie found herself watching Seiji – her dearest little brother – and Mr. Fluffles quite closely. If the adults in her household would not investigate the threat, she felt as though she was responsible for making sure that nothing happened to the two most precious people in her world.
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Normally, Namie could say that she tolerated her parents, perhaps even respected (to some extent) their authority over her life. They had, after all, brought her into existence and given her Seiji and Mr. Fluffles. That fact alone was probably the only reason why Namie was such an obedient little girl. Usually, she could see the wisdom in her parents' words or actions (brushing her teeth because tooth decay was an eyesore; getting enough sleep so that she wouldn't feel cranky the next day – okay, crankier; eating her vegetables so that she could protect her brother and companion from the demon that lived next door) so she followed their requests.
This respect was immediately killed the moment the evil arrived on her doorstep with Mrs. Orihara in tow for their play-date. Namie felt herself shiver as soon as she came into contact with those dark eyes. The boy's face was adorned with a leer which her mother had foolishly misinterpreted as a charming smile. He – if it really was human – was dangerous. And her mother – the fool – had brought it into her domain.
It took several choice meows from Mr. Fluffles to keep Namie from maiming the very woman that had pushed her into this world– though this did little to deter her from getting crayon on her mother's prized high heels.
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The two women wandered into the kitchen to sip lemonade laced with vodka while discussing the latest scandal ("Can you believe that they've actually gotten married? The shame of it all!"), and left their respective offspring to their own devices. Namie had adamantly refused to even show Seiji to the spawn so she decided it would be best to take him – it – to her room.
She found herself holding her breath as he – it – examined her specimens.
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("Namie! Haven't I told you that it's unladylike for a young girl to have jars of dissected animals in her room?" Her mother shouted. Namie looked at her rather passively, not displaying any visible sign of guilt. Uncle had given her those specimens anyways; it wasn't like she had stolen them or anything. There was no reason for her mother to be so upset.
"I don't really see what the problem is," her uncle calmly replied as he stepped into the room, "It's good for a young girl to have such an interest in the scientific field. With her intelligence, I have little doubt that our little Namie will be great."
"But, isn't it a bit – unnerving to have so many dead things in a young girl's room?" Mother's brow was still furrowed, slightly disgusted and slightly repulsed.
"So as long as Namie isn't licking the formaldehyde off the jars, I see very little reason to worry." Her uncle smiled that crookedly crooked smile.)
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"Did you do this yourself?" For a second, Namie was slightly surprised. She had mistakenly believed that he wouldn't speak to her – none of the other boys she had ever met ever did. They simply glanced over her before looking her away – that is if they didn't call her a freak or weird.
She shook her head, still too stunned to speak. Maybe she was wrong about him. The only person that she tolerated more than her parents was her uncle who was nearly on the same level as Mr. Fluffles – only a few steps away from Seiji and her uncle had been the one to give her the specimens. Perhaps he could actually make a worthy companion. Perhaps her parents' judgment had stayed sound. . .
"Well, that's a shame. There's nothing like hearing their screams." Namie blinked in horror and a bit of awe as his words processed through her little head.
He looked at her, his leer intensifying as he leaned closer.
He laughed, "They'll do anything to avoid death." He continued to lean closer, his smirk burning into her vision, "Absolutely anything. They're so afraid of dying."
She found herself paralyzed as the reality of the situation sunk in. He – it – was dangerous.
"But, you know, it's nothing compared to the real thing." He sauntered around her bedroom before cockily sitting upon her modest bed like a throne.
"The real thing?" Her voice was still, not exactly quivering but not exactly solid either. It was more like Jello™ that Namie had left out in the sun for too long, almost like a slushy-like consistency.
His smirk grew ever wider as his dark brown eyes flushed a deep crimson, "Humans."
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When the door was safely shut behind the spawn – Izaya Orihara, or as her mother called him "The most adorably charming little boy that I have ever met." – Namie let out the breath that had been trapped within her lungs. Though the anxiety was still rushing through her veins, Namie chose to go watch Seiji sleep since she knew that his slow rhythmic breathing would calm her nerves. She found herself softly smiling as she watched Seiji's stomach rise and fall; she had successfully prevented the spawn from otherwise upsetting her boringly safe life.
She could still remember the way that he had uttered the word "humans", almost as though he thought he wasn't one himself. Though, Namie wondered if he really was human and if it was too late to notify the FBI that she may, in fact, be living next to an extraterrestrial organism that probably enjoyed dissecting live animals and would eventually move up the food chain to humans.
Maybe her parents were right. Izaya had failed to do anything during his visit, perhaps he was merely all bark and no bite? Maybe he was merely exploiting her paranoia simply for shits and giggles?
Namie's brow furrowed. She needed to discuss this new development with a higher authority.
"Mr. Fluffles?" The house answered with an empty echo.
"Mr. Fluffles?"
"Mr. Fluffles!"
That damned vermin.
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The screams – Namie would never forget those screams – they haunted her in her sleep and they sang to her during the day. The bags around her eyes were so bad that even Seiji began to look at her curiously, as though his sister had morphed into some zombie that lacked sleep.
The screams only confirmed her fears – he had really taken Mr. Fluffles. She wanted to march next door and rip Izaya Orihara a new one. But Namie had never been rash and besides, she was too fearful that Seiji might be next on the monster's list.
She spent her nights praying that Mr. Fluffles didn't have to suffer too much. That at least Izaya was compassionate and would make the deed quick.
The screams said otherwise.
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Namie mourned for her companion though her parents simply told her that Mr. Fluffles had probably gotten lost in the neighborhood. They had just moved in a few weeks ago. But eventually, they too caved and began to mutter silent apologies to her.
"How's about we go down to the pet store and –" Her father's smile wrenched Namie's heart.
"No."
Even her mother, a person Namie knew disliked Mr. Fluffles since she had found him puking in her shoes attempted to comfort her.
"Why don't we just build a grave for him? We could even give him a proper funeral." Her mother asked as she patted Namie's head.
"There's no point if we don't even have a body." Namie harshly rejected her proposal.
Her only solace was Seiji and Namie soon concluded that it was likely Mr. Fluffles had sacrificed himself for the boy knowing that the spawn was up to no good. That fact only made Namie mourn harder and hold her brother closer to her chest.
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One morning after Mr. Fluffles' disappearance, she found the first piece on the porch. It was rope-like and stank horribly. Flies swarmed to it and it was likely riddled with larvae and other atrocious things. Though there was no evidence supporting the fact, Namie knew from instinct that this had once been a part of Mr. Fluffles and that monster – Izaya Orihara – left it there for her to find.
He was mocking her like the way he mocked the animals before their excruciatingly painful deaths.
He was playing her, testing her for her reaction.
She ran inside the kitchen and grabbed a plastic bag before sealing the piece – of intestine? – and bolting upstairs to her room before her mother could catch her and scold her for playing with dead body parts.
Using the supplies found around her room, Namie quickly embalmed it. She remembered performing a similar task with her uncle in his lab back at his mansion. Before long, the piece of Mr. Fluffles was respectfully jarred and preserved.
She opened her room window, letting the stink of rotting flesh and formaldehyde float outside into the summer sky accompanying the bleeding sunset. The sense of being watched forced her to look through her window to the house next door.
The window, which was located directly across from her bedroom, was usually heavily curtained but today, Namie swore she saw a shadow as though it was watching her from behind the cloth.
And she knew that there was pair of mahogany eyes staring back at her.
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Oddly enough, she slept fitfully that night dreaming of Mr. Fluffles, Seiji and a pair of sanguinely brown eyes that made her skin crawl.
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Author Notes: Let's just pretend that Izaya and Namie are extremely precocious for their respective ages, alright?
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