Trap
A/N: This is a short one shot that I write when I decide I'm still not sleepy yet instead of updating my other fictions. Randomly composed, but I hope you like it. And to answer the question you may have in your mind as you read, I don't know how to play piano or any musical instrument.
Please listen to the piano cover for Trap by Henry Lao to have the desired experience. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own HXH.
The melody lingers in the room, telling its sorrowful story, coated with beautiful pitches. The slender fingers run on the keys, full of grace, yet the blonde man in front of the piano keep his eyes close, his brows frown, lips pressing into a thin line.
What is that? The feeling that clenches his heart so tight, the emotion that leaves him no space to run... Kurapika is surprised; he is still able to feel something other than the endless emptiness. After all, he had collected all his clan's eyeballs, and killed all the Spiders using his chains.
He would never forget how he hunted them down, at first one by one, then a few at a time after they realized death was promised if they acted alone. Eventually, he accomplished his mission as the avenger; never blinked an eye as the blade pierced into their hearts, as the Spiders stare at him as they breathed their last.
No, he was indifferent, because killing them is what he survived for. Since the day his family, his clan was massacred, his entire mind focused on no other than revenge. He was a kite in the fierce storm, and the string that kept him up in the air was the will to hunt the Spiders.
Until the very end, he remained as the single-minded hunter. Chrollo Lucilfer, the last but definitely not the least, died in his cold, murdering chains. Of course, struggle is futile even to Danchou, not because he wasn't strong, but just that he was unlucky to have Kurapika as his opponent.
However, that moment, he hesitated.
Why did he hesitate?
Kurapika couldn't understand.
He doesn't want to be reminded, anyway.
Sometimes he felt as if someone is keeping an eye on him, not how he'd expected the ghosts he killed would glare fiercely at him, but someone who's curious to know what he's doing and longing for him.
That is impossible, Kurapika knows.
Who would be curious about him? No one.
Who would long for him? Nobody.
And for one thing he's damn sure about; he would know if there is really somebody spying on him.
He imagined the man, having illusion of him, and decided to ignore them. What can he do about hallucination anyway?
Even know, as he has his eyes closed playing the piano, he can feel the gaze of the man in front of him.
He has nowhere to go, nowhere but to him.
He had thought of ways to torture him for the loss of his comrades, ways to protect his limbs so that the Spider can survive despite of the hunter's determination, ways to lure his death god so that he got a chance to survive against him.
But eventually, he couldn't.
He hated how he gave it all up, disgusted that he was unable to do a thing.
And that kind of feelings, were rare to him.
Never had a thing got him feel hatred.
He read a lot, enough to make him know hatred is the reflection of love, where there is just a thin line between the two. But he failed to feel either of that, or rather he chose to abandon those unnecessary feelings. Philosopher could only make him understand, but he never experienced.
He can't decide what he is feeling inside of him. Perhaps that's why he clings to the man who took his life. Perhaps that can really make him realize what the reason that made him surrendered was.
Kurapika seems to feel the same way as he did, judging from the song he plays. Chrollo swears he saw hesitation glimmered in his eyes in his last moment.
Sitting on the grand piano and listen to the melody that much described his heart while looking at the blonde man seems to be a good idea.
Kurapika opens his eyes as he presses the last key. He couldn't help but to feel hot liquid rolling down from the corner of his eyes, quickly turning cold and chill on his cheeks.
Salt water.
It was the first time since many years though. He had forgotten how to cry.
Then there is the man he imagined again, sitting on his grand piano, fixing his gaze on him, apparently lost in thoughts. Kurapika decides to ignore the phantom, walks away quietly as he wipes his tears.
There again, he begins wondering what is keeping him sane.