A/N: kurapika. Drabble. Enough said. Thanks for reviews! Btw, I tried to make it so kurapika's name wouldn't be mentioned, so you have an idea of what I think he is without his label. but...yeah it kinda sucks.
working on killua drabble.
He had imagined it to be more rewarding. A sense of accomplishment, maybe.
Instead, the only thing that he felt was the cold as raindrops slid down the faint outline of his body. Numbing fingers withdrew the chains, they rattled like death-beetles in the walls of his home. Peering through his dripping hair, he eyed the pile of bodies, nothing but lumps of meat taking up space, lying there, exuding red liquid that mixed with the rain to make a sheer pink color.
He exhaled. He needed something to fill up the silence, the heavy blanket over the air. He screamed, ripping through the fabric, but as the scream faded away, the blanket repaired itself and the silence returned. He ran away from them, away, away, away from the silence. The mud clung to his shoes, slowing him, making his steps sluggish. He, already exhausted from the battle, fell slowly, a graceful arch as he slipped in the mud. A puddle lay near him. Glancing into it, he was shocked by his own reflection; blonde hair that glowed white brought out his ruby red eyes, and his mouth opened as blood dribbled out and stained the green grass that cushioned his face. He looked awful.
Blinking wearily, he finally closed his eyes, white lashes fringing and hiding his red eyes. 'I did it. I've killed them all. I had my revenge.' He whispered to the wind, and she bent her body around his huddled form, blowing his hair in little tufts. 'See you, Gon, on the other side…' he smiled and was still.
When the farmers found the dead boy the next morning, the pile of bodies giving off a reeking stench, they commented on how sad it was for a boy to die like this in a family suicide. They weren't really uncommon, now and then a family suicide shows up at the side of the road, with a sad note begging someone to tell their story. New York Shin and the area around it was accustomed to death. The farmers shrugged and shook their heads, saying how crazy these families were, and buried him, till all that remained was a small mound of dirt and his last smile in the wind.