One Night Stand (Izaya Orihara x OC)

Chapter 4

We walked into his office and  I immediately ran toward the huge glass windows that overlooked the city of Shinjuku. 

"You sure are interesting." I heard Izaya say as he sat down in his computer chair and twirled. Mid spin he stopped his chair abruptly and turned towards me. In a curious tone he began," So...Why do you look like that?" He crossed his arms as if he were waiting for me to respond. 

'First of all, how do you even respond to that,'  I thought to myself.

"What do you mean? You can't just ask me why do I look like that?" The tone in my voice shifted, I was growing annoyed by his mannerisms. Izaya chuckled to himself and let his chin slump to his chest. Slowly Izaya unfolded his arms and let his elbows glide along his legs, causing him to lean forward in his chair. When his elbows got to his knees he looked up at me. 

"I'm curious...Everyone I know and see in Japan has brown or black eyes, and any color aside from those are eyes that belong to foreigners. So why are you so different then? What makes you special, why did God give you green eyes. Or are you just wearing contacts?" Izaya leaned forward and rose out of his chair. My head turned to him and I met his eyes. Izaya began to walk towards me as I spoke. 

"They're from... my dad's side. At least that's what my mom told me, he's white." I said to him the words felt gritty on my tongue as if I was unsure about what I was saying and it was true. I don't know anything about my father other than what Mom told me.  I gave Izaya a slight glance, I watched a sly smile roll on his face and shifted my view back to the city skyline.

"So you're American?" He asked inquisitively. 

"No..." I shook my head, "I'm a Japanese citizen. It's all I've ever been. " 

"Then why was your father white? I don't see too many American's coming to Japan and impregnating Japanese women, do you?"

"Look!" I said bluntly, I turned around to meet his gaze. Izaya had gotten closer to me than I thought, our noses were practically touching. I lowered my voice to a whisper, "If you're trying to pry you're not being very subtle about it," subtle yet venomous, the words rolled off my tongue like daggers coming from a skilled knife thrower. I closed my eyes and an image flashed through my head. I was standing on the roof of my old highschool. The memory became foggy and I opened my eyes again. 

Izaya chuckled, I could feel his warm breath brush over my lips, " Touchy subject I see," Izaya shrugged his shoulders and stepped away from me. He retreated to his chair and gave it a twirl once more.  

"Why do you care anyway."

"Well well, now I see how low you think of me. I'm not just going to let the mother of my child out of my sights now aren't I, and besides It's my duty to know everything and anything about anyone or thing," Izaya's eyes slanted down deepening his lock on me.

I sighed loudly to myself. I hate telling this story. 

"My mother was 18  when she met him at a bar in Tokyo. From what my mother told me he was in the Air Force and he was stationed at the Air Force base in Misawa Japan. She told me it was love at first sight, but in all honestly, it was probably just her hormones telling her to procreate. and she did just that. I was conceived in the backseat of his car and nine months later I was born, and my father had left, probably back to America," the words flowed from my mouth almost as if I was reciting a speech for a class. I've had practiced this story hundreds of times and I've told it thousands of times.  I said in a very bland voice.

"Interesting, she sounds like someone I should get to know," Izaya said with a slight chuckle. I laughed a little "Well if you don't mind talking to a headstone, then be my guest. She's pretty blunt. I know you're gonna ask me how she died so I'll just tell you right now. She was murdered by a color gang about four years ago." My eyes began to sting and I quickly closed them. The memory rushed back to my head. I was standing on the rooftop of my high school I found myself peering over the edge. I was a third-year and my mother's body was just found in a dumpster. "HEY!" A man called out to me in the distance. I opened my eyes and shuttered to myself. "I should go home," I said as I quickly walked away from the windows and towards the door. My face felt wet. Was I crying? I wiped my tears with the back of my sleeves and began to make my way to the door.