Work Text:
She missed him.
She never had thought she would. Hell, some of the days when he was particularly maddening, she even fantasized about the day when she was finally free of him. But those were just mean ideas from long ago, and born of spite and stress - not her true feelings. Of course, she never truly expected his death to bring her any sort of satisfaction, much less joy. Yet, she never expected to miss him either.
But then again, back then it had just been theoretical - all in her head. When it was really happening - when she was here and he wasn't, when he was gone and she'd never see him again...well, it was different. So very different.
She'd known that Izaya lived on the edge, that he could have died easily. She thought she was prepared for this, but in actuality, she had no idea what was coming; what this would feel like. It was like she'd braced herself for a cruel punch but got hit by a full-speed freight train. It swept her off her feet in all the wrong ways.
The grief isn't what she would expect. She has no changes in appetite - she doesn't gain or lose weight. She doesn't blame herself. She doesn't lose sleep, aside from the occasional dream about him. Even then, the impact of the dream - that he's there and then gone again, so suddenly - is more jarring then the dream itself. They're never scary or bad, they're normal - usually her and Izaya together in his home office, bickering over something insignificant, or discussing the schedule for the next week, or even just sitting quietly and working - the silence never uncomfortable, but surprisingly, closer to intimate (in a non-sexual way, of course) - the way it was when he was here. When he was alive.
No, her grief doesn't manifest itself in destructive ways. Doesn't manifest itself physically much at all. She cries once in a while, when she can't get him out of her mind; when she doesn't want to get him out of her mind. She sees him on the street once, but while she still has the breath knocked out of her lungs in shock and hope (hope because they never found the body, he's alive, it's him - it has to be); Izaya turns around and disappears, because the body that was just his hosts the face of a stranger.
She was numb for the first few days. It felt like nothing had changed - it was more like her vision had shifted. The world was sideways without Izaya, but the sadness hadn't sunk in yet. She thinks that those days of feeling nothing were worse than feeling the pain. It was like icing a limb that needed to be amputated - just prolonging the start of the hurt. It wasn't as if she wanted to just "get it over with" - it was less about the end of the pain and more about the start of it. Namie didn't fancy herself a masochist, but the numbness made it feel like she hadn't cared enough for him to cry for him, and that was further from the truth than she even wanted to think about.
Contrary to what many people thought, the relationship between her and Izaya wasn't cold and clean and strictly professional. This isn't to say they were anything like lovers - far from it. But they weren't simply coworkers, either.
Hell, Namie may have even gone so far as to label them friends. But, that would be a bit of a stretch.
It wasn't as if they liked to hang out. Namie would never say that she particularly liked Izaya, but she got...used to him over time. She might not have wanted to eat hotpot with him, but she could see that he was lonely and that he was often hurting, and it made her feel empathy for him. Still, it never made her want to be around him - it wasn't her job to fix him, and you can't change people, anyways. Change only comes from within.
What they had was hard to put to words. It didn't fit in the neat boxes of "friends" or "siblings" or "lovers" - it was constantly shifting, from minute to minute. Even when it stabilized, it often evaded description - an amalgamation of relationships.
Izaya could be too much to handle at times, but he was no monster. The more Namie got to know him, the more she saw his humanity, and the more she got used to him. She got to know him quite a bit; not the inner workings of his mind, but more like secret trivia about him. Things like the fact that he wore a retainer at nighttime, that he enjoyed experimenting and playing with makeup, and he liked Eminem (Namie had thought he meant the candy when he first mentioned the name, but no, it was an American rapper).
They were little details, almost superficial in the big picture, but they meant a lot to Namie when he was gone. Even more so that these were things she had learned mostly through accident - she could still remember Izaya's embarrassed flush when she had opened the door to his room and found him contouring his face, with cateye eyeliner better than she could ever dream of doing. She had just closed the door, not wanting to laugh when Izaya looked so open, and that's where the situation was heading.
Her accidentally stumbling across these little pieces of Izaya meant that no one else knew about them, that these were things about Izaya that only Namie knew.
She guarded them jealously, like the ring she'd swiped on impulse one day from his desk. A stolen piece of his persona - something to remind her of him. She doesn't do anything like wear it or sleep with it under her pillow. She kept it in a jewelry chest in her closet and only takes it out when she's thinking too hard about Izaya.
She almost doesn't attend the memorial service, but she ends up going to it. When she does, she's surprised to see Shizuo there. She doesn't talk to him. She doesn't really talk to anyone - she exchanges nods with Shinra and Celty, and feels a pang of sympathy when she sees his twin sisters crying on the staircase, their arms around each other, faces buried in each other's shoulders. Nearby is a woman she's never seen, but in her face, she can see pieces of Izaya, pieces of the twins. She assumes it's his mother. The woman isn't crying, but isn't at peace - her face is a quiet mixture of grief and confliction.
Izaya did not have a good relationship with his mother.
Shizuo doesn't look at the grieving family, and they don't look at him. They stay on opposite sides of the funeral home. He doesn't seem to want to look at Namie, either, and she stays out of his way best she can.
Namie stays until the end, but she had arrived late, and it only lasts an hour or two at most once she's there. She spends that time mostly listens to what others have to say about Izaya - she'll move over to a group with the pretense of being part of a conversation, but not saying more than necessary. When listening to Shinra's group, she's surprised to see that Shinra's eyes are darkened with lost sleep, and that he's crying on and off through the conversations, lifting his glasses to wipe at his eyes. She was under the impression that Shinra didn't care for Izaya - Izaya was always convinced that Shinra hated him, the few time's he's mentioned him seriously.
Izaya didn't talk much about his true feelings or beliefs, but when he did, Namie listened.
When it gets dark, they go outside and everyone's given a paper lantern - Namie's given a purple one, with gold designs crawling up the side. They all write a "letter to Izaya" on the bottom of their lantern before lighting them. She doesn't write much - just a few words, the question of "Where are you now?" before she takes a match to the burner.
Namie's surprised how long it takes the lantern to fill with enough warm air to sustain it's weight. Shizuo crushes his first by accident, and Shinra gives him a new one. He almost catches this one on fire, but manages to light it without incident.
Another time this might have amused Namie. As it is, it doesn't make her feel much of anything.
Neither, for that matter, does the rising of the lanterns into the air. It's pretty, to be sure, but it doesn't feel like anything.
It doesn't feel like closure.
Nothing does.