Kurapika is tired. Exhausted, if he is to be honest with himself.
It's one of those days again. One of those days when he realises he has not gotten used to living under Chrollo after all-- that he never really will.
How long has it been? He wonders idly as he watches Chrollo read the book he got Feitan to steal for him a while ago. With a tilt of his head, he steals a glance at the cover. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Kurapika wrinkles his nose. Ironic.
"Kurapika." Chrollo's voice is smooth and smug. "Do you want me to read it out to you?"
Kurapika rips off the blades of grass his fingers had previously been twirling around. He hates it when Chrollo says his name, tainting the one thing he has left of his clan like everything else he gets in contact with.
"Well, do you?" It's Chrollo's turn to tilt his head now, almost in a mocking imitation of the other. Nothing he does is without meaning of course.
Stop talking to me like I'm a toddler. Kurapika wants to scream. He wants to do a lot of other things. But he doesn't. He knows the consequences by now. Either Chrollo's eyes will go blank again or his actions will simply feed his amusement.
With a deep shaky breath, Kurapika answers. "No." His voice is quiet and he hates himself for it.
Chrollo gently closes the book, resting it on his lap. As he raises his head high, the sunlight falls straight on his eyes. He doesn't blink.
"You should let yourself enjoy it, you know. Every once in a while. I believe that'd be good for you." His voice is quiet too, but not in the way Kurapika's is. It's low but still heavy. Gentle yet commands attention.
"It would be good for me to have you stay the fuck away from me; but do you give a shit about that? Of course you don't." There he goes again, only fueling Chrollo's amusement at the cost of his own emotions.
Chrollo's staring at him now, like he's infinitely more interesting than any book could ever be.
Stop. Kurapika wants to scream. And this time he does-- because really; nothing matter anymore.
"I'd never let you go, Kurapika. You should know that by now." Chrollo's tone turns solemn-- like he's upset by Kurapika's outburst. Upset? Like he has any fucking right to being upset.
Kurapika scoffs, standing up. He's tired. Tired of this fucking game. Tired of wasting his time in the garden with Chrollo sitting against the fountain, reading another dumb fucking book that never seems to reward him with any fucking sense of self. Tired of pretending to be okay. To be normal. Because he's every fucking thing but that.
He's mad. He's angry. He's tired.
"Why?" He tries to yell again, but it only comes out as an awkward croak.
Chrollo smiles, eyes crinking at the corners. It's pity, Kurapika can tell. The last thing he fucking needs. From him of all people.
His vision is turning red again. Fuck.
"Because we're two sides of the same coin, Kurapika. And I could never understand myself without you."
