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There's never been a right place, right time for them.
At first he was grieving, and then she was brooding, and then he was worrying, and then. . .
There were always tears, so many wasted tears over wasted chances that they just threw away. She wasn't good enough for him, not strong enough for him. She was a weak little girl, just a baby sister that he had to look after. Never a woman, never a Hunter. Not his equal, not even his friend, just a little girl who wanted to hunt to make her daddy proud.
There was always anger, so much wasted anger over wasted chances they just threw away. He wasn't good enough for her, not safe enough for her. He was a screwed up nobody of a man, just a fuck-up Hunter that she had to have the displeasure of knowing. Never a role model, never a lover. Not her equal, not even her friend, just a man who wanted to hunt to gain his daddy's approval.
They never said the right thing. If he was trying to, then she wasn't. If she was trying to, then he wasn't. Either one was pissed off, or one was arrogant, or they were just annoying each other. They never saw eye to eye, and even though they wished they could, it just wouldn't happen. Polar opposites. Fire and Ice. But instead of steam, they just got one big puddle of sweat, blood, and tears.
She thought she was nothing to him. He thought she was more than just a one-night-stand. They were both in a blind circle, listening more to their own thoughts than each other. He wanted to protect her, and she didn't want to be a damsel in distress.
He always fucked it up. He said the wrong things. It was always the wrong time. He wasn't soft enough, sweet enough for her. Major dick was the understatement of the century.
She always fucked it up. She said the wrong things. Always the wrong time. She wasn't strong enough, tough enough for him. Major baby was the understatement of the century.
He sought to keep her alive, taking her case, trying to give her that knife, saving her from that ghost, saving her from his brother. But he was just s stupid Hunter who was a dick about telling her she needed practice, and whose father got hers killed.
She sought for his approval, trying to build a case, trying to show she had a knife of her own, trying to take on that ghost, trying to help with his brother. But she was just a little girl who was too arrogant, and whose daddy got killed because of his.
He asked her once why she wanted this life when there were so many other choices. For her dad, she'd said, because it was her way of being close to him. He got that, but at the same time the thought of her dead like his dad was one he couldn't stand.
She admired him for why he wanted this life. Never asked about it, not even once. For his dad, she knew that, because his dad roped him into it, made him the best. She got that, but at the same time wondered if he'd ever wanted anything different.
His dad, her dad. . . It always boiled back down to that.
The history the two had created so long ago, the thing that always made them hesitant around each other. His dad, her dad, his dad, her dad. . . Both Hunters, both dead. Just like they were both going to end up, which was probably why there's never been a right place, right time for them.