Chapter 6:

"Safe Space."

The embers ran wild, as they twisted and took off, the energy they radiated was all consumed by the hatred, as they dazzled and gleamed, while their luminous existence was annihilated by the same fire that birthed them. The ashes held agony, as they burnt and died, the last of their breaths were glows that ran wild.

The cinders spoke unknown words to her heart, as her fingers stirred the warm air, the little sparks writhed unevenly until they dropped and embraced their end.

There would be that one flicker, and it seemed as the flame was startled by her thoughts, it flabbergasted and resumed its pattern, until once more it seized its motion and shivered before her.

The scarlet bricks appeared almost as melted, the skim of the heat struck and slid off the ancient walls. These were the bricks that made the roof under which she had always found herself, and made the floors on which she had always walked. She detested the terra cotta and fabric-like scent of the edifice, it held memories. She absolutely detested it.

"Lift me up big brother!, the little girl's merry voice called, and then there would be laughter. "Higher! Higher!"

Her eyes felt thawed in the fireplace, as she watched the ashes and the cinders, her back to the world.

She heard claps, and the surfaces strike, and each step of hers injected malevolence in her heart, her chest heavy, her mind far away, yet closer than each breath they took.

"Claire." A small hand shook her shoulder, catching her out of her thoughts.

She faced the small child. Her eyes momentarily got lost in the dark chocolate pools and melted, as just for that brief moment she saw all that could have been, and then the aversion flowed back in, through the smallest of pores and she realized it was all that could have been, all she could have been, but was not, and never would be. She turned back to the buoyant flame that swallowed the tiny chips of wood.

"Play with us, please," the little girl's voice was pleading.

She felt the warmth stroke her face slightly whipped by the surrounding air. The heat was hell, but hell was home, so it felt pleasant to her empty soul.

She felt flesh lightly caress her arm. The rage broke in and her will felt weak as she ferociously knocked off the little girl's cautious hand.

The child gasped, her coal-black locks shivered with her movement.

"That's enough Katie, come back," the commanding male voice ordered.

The girl did as she was told, and hid behind a tall figure, the shadow of which ever so slightly kissed the end of the wall.

"Why are you like this," he demanded, his voice laden with sadness.

She smiled, and she could taste the bitterness of the words that would follow even before her mind had sought them out. She felt all the loath and poison inside her melt on her tongue and materialize into the dirt they were. "I hate you guys."

She could picture just how his eyes widened, though she was not facing him, and she could almost hear that click, when his teeth gritted together, and how he was trying to suppress the rage he felt.

He took steady and deep breaths. "Claire, saying things like that to your family is something that will haunt you someday."

Her eyes widened and she faced him, the fake expression of shock painted on her face. "What family?" she asked in an attempt to suppress her rage. "Where's my mother?" she said drilling her gaze into his perplexed eyes. "Where's your mother? Where's her mother?" she whispered pointing at the little girl who peeked from behind her brother's back.

There was a long silence. She could hear each word in his thoughts, as it waved around with the chilly breezes. The little girl blinked in confusion staring continuously between her sibling's dead expressions.

"It's funny, right?" she asked, her smile fixed in place. "How I can't say our mother," she laughed and shook her head. "This isn't a family," she said walking to the window. She leaned her elbows on the cold marble and felt the cooling breeze stroke her face and wipe away the bitterness. "The only thing I'll be haunted by," she said recalling the words he had used earlier. "is that thing," she said indicating the seven-year-old little girl standing behind him.

He clenched his fists. "Shut up Claire."

"Ask her, ask that thing if it's human."

"Shut up."

"She's not normal, stop trying to cover up for her."

"Shut up! She's a little girl, stop trying to destroy her life, she's your sister!"

She let out a deep breath. "She's no sister of mine, you live with that lie," she passed a hand through her hair. "Why won't you admit it, why do you keep lying to yourself? We're not a family."

She walked away towards the dark wooden door, knowing she had caused enough damage, knowing she added enough fuel to the fire. She knew she had destroyed him, killed him alive, but she couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it, after all this was how she had been living for years now, spreading her hatred and poison, passing it on, just for the sake of mere entertainment. She was a monster, she knew it, she believed it. This was what she thought was her purpose in life. To consume and destroy others.

Just before she took that last step towards the door, she turned around watching his back. "Good night, big brother," she tossed him a vicious smile and left the room. She threw that one last piece of coal among the embers satisfying the loathe that dwelled within her.

There was a lot I was learning about human behavior through my sporadic interactions with Killua. For one thing, the rules were very different for how people deemed appropriate to behave when I was around him and vice versa. For instance, it was very common for a couple of guys to approach me from time to time during the school day. Some asked for my number, some directly asked me out, and some just made small talk to build up the courage to do the former two things.

However, it didn't escape my notice that when Killua showed up, I became some sort of social pariah for men. I swear I saw this one guy on the football team turn the other way when he saw me walking with Killua, when just the other day I couldn't shake him off. The why of this was a mystery to me until one day I saw the way Killua laid his eyes on a boy who bumped into me in the hall. It was the most menacing glare I had ever witnessed. I wasn't sure how felt about that.

It was also strange that girls found it perfectly okay to approach and hoard Killua when I was by his side. Not sure if they naturally assumed that someone who looked like him would immediately friendzone me, or they assumed the opposite and were proactively, in their own way, trying to sabotage whatever they thought was going on. I, for one thing, really had no idea what was going on.

This one girl, Jena Tanaka, who I knew from middle school, all but pushed me to a side when Killua and I were in front of my locker. "I'm having a little get-together tonight at my place, selectives only," she announced, side-eyeing me with no subtlety whatsoever, "you should come."

The major question about human behavior that I pondered on when studying the way Killua addressed people, was how and why they still retained this undying attraction for him. He was rude, and openly so. He didn't even attempt to hide how disinterested he was, and I swear he didn't even know one person's name around here.

"No," came his cold response. No excuses, no sugar-coating, not even some uninspired bit about pretending to think about it, or an explanation, really. If this was me, and if I did this to the guys who approached me, my popularity would plummet to the gutter immediately. Him? That somehow made him even hotter because of the 'unapproachability' thing he had going on.

Jena looked taken aback only for a moment before her overbearing smile returned even stronger. "You can't say no forever, I'll get a yes out of you one of these days," she promised, unabashed, before walking away.

"Wow," I remarked, following her exit with my eyes. "You do know there's such a thing as being polite?" I asked, strangely captivated by the workings of his brain.

"That thing where you say yes, don't mean it, and then follow up with unprompted assaults and weak explanations?" he taunted, enjoying the opportunity I gave me a little too much.

I gave him a deadpan look. "You almost had something there buddy. Keep practicing."

"Nah, that was flawless comedic execution and you know it," he pressed, following me to my locker.

"Well," I weighed, sorting my books and stuffing some in my bag. "I'll give you a participation trophy."

He rolled his eyes in good humor. "Can I give you a ride home?" He asked, putting his hands in his pockets. He had been extending that offer an awful lot the past couple of days.

I closed my locker door and turned to look at him. "You showed up to pick me and drop me almost every day this week. You do realize that if you keep doing that my parents are going to pester me about meeting you eventually?"

His eyebrows arched at that information. "I've already met your mother," he reminded not sounding even a bit fazed by what I said, "I don't have a problem meeting your father." He shrugged like meeting parents was his favorite weekend pastime.

I stared at him for a moment, then looked around to check if any lurkers were eavesdropping. "Killua, I'm not sure what social conventions are where you're from, but generally meeting someone's parents means something different."

His expression didn't even change the slightest bit. "I understand."

I wasn't sure why I suddenly got the urge to bolt. "You understand? They'll think we're seeing each other," I explained further, hoping to get a logical reaction out of him.

"I don't have a problem with that," he replied, too calmly for my taste, "do you?"

I blinked, very confused. I had a million and one questions for him but not the mental presence to properly address any of them. "Is this really the place for us to be having this conversation?"

"I don't recall starting it," he answered simply.

Just then the bell rang, and I was glad for it because I had no sensible response to what he said. "My- my dad's actually picking me up today," I informed him, checking my phone to avoid looking at him. Looking at him didn't end too well for me.

"Do you want me to meet him?"

My head shot up at the speed of my light, I was sure the expression on my face must've been beyond unsettling.

"Ha, kidding," he said, very obviously enjoying the reaction he had gotten. "Don't choke yourself."

I just pursed my lips at his dumb attempt at humor.

"Bet you think the other joke was funny now," he poked, but on seeing the scowl I was addressing him with changed routes very quickly, "okay, leaving," he submitted raising his hands up in defeat, and walked away.

I stared behind him wondering where things were about to go with us.

It was a little later that I spotted my dad's car in the school lot. Both my parents had work when I got off from school, which is why taking the bus was my preferred mode of after-school transportation. Although, if you'd ask my parents, their side of the story would be very different.

I had a bit of a phobia when it came to driving; I only even had my license because the examiner realized I had to keep showing up every few months until he gave me the approval. My parents had been pestering me to let them get me a car. I told them I would much rather not contribute to the crime rate in town with my disastrous driving. Even though that would be a favor in itself because nothing ever happened here anyways, and this would give the bored townies something to talk about.

"Hey dad," I greeted once I was seated in the passenger seat.

"Hey, bud," he replied, I noticed his hair was even messier than usual. When I was younger, I used to think my dad was a scientist of sorts, that was right after the one year I thought he was Harry Potter way into the future. "Good day?"

"Fine," I dismissed. The pressing matter for me was why my dad had taken a short leave from work to pick me up. I was not good with curiosity, and not cut out to make small talk in wait of the gradual progression towards what was really the matter at hand. "Everything okay? Why are you here?"

He had just put the car in reverse to back out, and took a moment to build up a response.

"Dad!" I pressed, eventually, and by that, I mean like one minute in. He knew not knowing things felt literally like a stomach ache to me.

"Alright, jeez," he mumbled, exiting the entryway. "You'd think she'd give me a minute to flesh out the conversation."

"Right, right, because that's new for you and you're not married to someone as overbearing as mom," I reminded, not falling for his play for time.

His shoulders hunching was a clear confirmation to me that he was cornered. "Well, here's the thing," he began, his voice nervous, "you remember how Hana got sick last week and I had to take her to the doctor's?"

"Yeah…" I said, jogging my brain. "It was the Indian food from that new place. I did warn you guys."

"Uh…" his eyes were now fixated on the road, and he was on the verge of breaking a sweat. "Turns out it wasn't the Indian food."

My head snapped in his direction like a whip. I felt almost disoriented as I attempted to word incoherent questions. "Wh-What-" I could feel the tears pool in my eyes. "Mom's not…?"

His eyes widened into orbs when he understood my implication. "Oh, what- yes, yes, your mom is perfectly fine and healthy." He left his left hand to steer the wheel while he used the other one to rub his forehead. I could tell he was cursing himself for his poor choice of words.

"You know how I am with words, Claire," he pleaded with a sigh, "so I'll just go right out and say it."

I expected anything but the words that came out of his words next. "Turns out… Hana's pregnant."

It was like I was hit in the head with an incredibly giant mallet. It felt like somebody had stopped the earth for a moment, taken it off its axis, and shaken the thing a couple of times. This could have been the only viable explanation because I suddenly felt like throwing up and jumping out of the car in one go.

As my father's words echoed in my brain like a stuck tape recorder, I couldn't help but recall in one instant my parents' journey with starting a family. My dad had been adopted, so adopting a kid had always been something they had wanted to do. The plan was to always have a big family, but their unplanned struggles with infertility had changed the picture quite a bit.

My parents were real-life angels, which was why they had adopted a ten-year-old instead of pushing for an infant or a toddler like most couples out there. In foster care, it becomes very obvious very fast that the older you are, the less likely you are to be chosen by a family. I was pushing ten, and not very hopeful of my future. Saying that they changed my life was a major understatement. It was an insult to everything they had ever done and everything they had ever been for me.

Suddenly, the lens I was seeing this through and thinking of it changed. I could see too clearly the hopeful expression on my dad's face, the glint of excitement in his eyes, and almost nervous way he was trying to assess how I felt about all of this. It was in that moment that I knew I had to give my best performance yet. I had spent almost a decade pretending, hiding things, and burying my feelings. There was no reason I couldn't do that with good intentions this time.

"Oh my God," I breathed, trying to keep my voice at the right decibel, "mom didn't-when?" was all I could bring myself to word.

"Oh, she doesn't know," he revealed, looking like he was more comfortable expressing his elation now that I sounded okay with the situation, "I just picked up the reports, I thought we could surprise her."

I was also overtaken with gratitude for my sweet and naïve father, who thought it the best course of action to tell me this before his own wife. I could understand the logic behind it. My mom would hyper-launch into figuring out how I would feel and how it would affect me. In a way, this was the perfect sequence of events to allow my mother to really enjoy this unexpected blessing to the fullest.

It took me a second to realize I had to come up with an answer. "Yes-yes…" I assented, feeling my face hurt from the exaggerated smile I was keeping in place.

"You're happy?" he confirmed, and I wanted to cry at the pleading way he was looking at me. I was just a little girl again, who needed her father's embrace.

"Beyond," I said so convincingly I surprised myself. "In fact, I'm all for that surprise thing. How about we make mom a nice meal?" I led, attempting to find a chance for some space to process this. "I need some things from the store, can you drop me there while you head back to work?"

His expression told me he more than bought it. I deserved a fucking Oscar for this bit I was doing. I deserved a fucking Oscar for being able to manage a believable remainder of the conversation, for being able to get out of the car, for being able to head into the store, and then for being able to put items in a basket.

Which was exactly what I was doing when the living daylights were startled out of me.

"I'd say what are the odds, but my shoe size is bigger than this town," Killua issued out of motherfucking nowhere, which was when I noticed him standing right next to me.

"Fuck!" I gasped, the metal basket slipping straight out of my grip. I already mentally prepared myself for the racket that would come about from it hitting the ground, and how everyone around would turn towards the commotion.

Fortunately, and at an inhuman speed, Killua saved me from that humiliating fate by catching it in one smooth movement.

I could only look at him with a blank expression, my verbal faculty failing me.

"Baking soda, foot cream, and baked beans," he observed scanning the items in the basket. "Is this the recipe for death?"

Now that he mentioned it, I actually noticed what I had been gathering absentmindedly. "What are you doing here?" I asked instead of providing an answer. I couldn't tell him that the reason for that strange assortment was my insanity. That would be too heavy for a topic with a guy who I had met just a few weeks ago.

"I had to replenish my candy stock," he revealed, pointing to the basket he had put on the ground to save mine. It was filled beyond belief with what I presumed were all the confections this little store had to offer.

My eyes widened at the insane amount of candy. Words still failed me, and I knew he was used to me whipping back with something snarky in seconds. "Oh, okay," was all I could offer.

I could tell that registered as odd to him. It was strangely gentle, the way he bent down a bit to look into my eyes and asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded because if I spoke I would cry.

He wasn't convinced and it was obvious. "Do you need to sit down?" I don't know what he saw on my face that prompted him to ask that, but I realized this guy was very used to taking care of others.

"No, I'm… fine." It didn't help that my voice cracked the tiniest bit somewhere in between. Suddenly, I realized how laborious it felt to breathe, it was almost suffocating standing here. "I actually— need to get out of here."

"Okay," he immediately agreed, not questioning the craziness of the exchange, and instead nominating himself to handle me.

He put a hand on my shoulder to make sure I was steady, took the load out of my hands, and led me towards the exit. "Give me just one moment," he excused, I presumed to put back the things he was carrying.

He left me right outside, making sure that I was leaning against the wall for support.

He took a minute longer than I expected, which was enough time for me to notice that the sun was gradually going down. That left me wondering how long I had actually been in there for.

"Are you good to walk?" Killua asked when he rematerialized at my side. "I could go and get my car, but that might take me a little while and I'm not comfortable leaving you here alone."

I'm sure in a better state of my mind his words would have made me swoon a bit. "I can walk," I assured him, my voice was weak but steady.

"Let's get you home then," he said, extending his arm behind my back. I was sure he thought I was going to collapse any second.

"No, I don't want to go home," I refused immediately, "can we… can we just walk?"

"Yes, of course." His voice was so gentle it made me feel safe in some strange, unexplainable way.

We walked in silence for some time. I knew the path we were taking, it was to the park I wanted to go to the other morning to see the foliage.

The crispy sound of our steps and the dim streetlights at dusk made for a comforting experience, even though nothing beat the sights one could see here in the early morning.

Killua led me to a bench and gestured for me to sit. I complied, even though the surface was just a bit damp from the cold and condensation, it felt nice.

"Feeling any better?" he checked in, scanning me with those laser-focused eyes while looming over me with his hands in his pockets.

"Yes," I replied immediately as a reflex. The truth was I was one minute away from a panic attack.

"Your face would beg to differ," he informed me, crouching down in front of me, "you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm just pale," I mumbled, another defensive reflex.

He wasn't dumb enough to believe that. "Hold out your hand," he dictated, looking like he meant business.

I wanted to half-ask him if he was an undercover palmist or something when I saw what was in his right hand when he raised it. He put a plastic bag by my side on the bench that held the entirety of his candy stash.

Fishing out a candy bar, he peeled the wrapper off in a surprisingly elegant motion and handed it to me. "Eat," he ordered, like this was the most natural order of affairs in the world. "Your blood sugar is probably low, which is making things worse."

"How do you know that?" I challenged, instead of appreciating the touching gesture.

"I haven't seen you eat a damn thing," he reminded me. It occurred to me that he probably thought I avoided eating around him or something. The truth was that he always made me so nervous I ended up losing my appetite.

I decided not to tug further and just took a bite. That made me realize how hungry I really was, and I downed the whole thing in ten seconds maybe.

He looked alarmed and impressed all at once, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he silently handed me another piece.

I accepted without another thought and went through three more in the same sequence before I thought to ask him why he wasn't having any.

"I'd rather make sure you're not going to drop dead at a moment's notice first," he explained, still huddled before me like it was an easily retainable position.

"I'm alright now," I assured him, actually sounding more convincing now that I had some sugar in my system.

He rose, conveying that he believed that to some extent now. Behind him, I saw an abandoned set of swings that reminded me of my woes. I sighed without meaning to at the sight.

He studied my reaction and turned to look back at the source. His arched brow conveyed in confusion, but he didn't word it, and instead just beaconed me to walk towards them.

I followed, not sure why, grabbing the bag of candy as I got up.

Before I knew it, we were both sitting idly on the swings, him gradually pushing mine with one hand every few seconds. This was the most peculiar and indescribable sight, but I felt at peace for some reason.

"Here's an offer," he announced, watching me while I contemplated. "You can talk about what's bothering you, I can listen."

I turned to look at him. The weirdest thing wasn't that he asked, but probably that I was considering it already. "Are you a good listener?"

"You've witnessed Gon talk your ear off in a five-minute car ride," he reminded with a fondness in his voice that wasn't masked by his eye roll, "you tell me."

"Fair point," I assented with a nod, "but the fact remains that we're mortal enemies."

"Nah," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, "I just shared my candy with you, there aren't a lot of people who can say that, you know."

"Alright," I said, knowing that the guy was serious about his candy and believing him. "Do you really want to progress to sharing sob stories? It's a big step."

"Hey, I was ready to meet your dad, I'm sure sob stories come fifth on that list."

I rolled my eyes,but secretly appreciated how he was comforting me without making things too heavy or awkward. "Okay…" I considered for a moment. The fact that he already knew I was adopted would certainly make the preamble less dramatic.

"I just found out that my parents are having a baby. Like an actual child, that is biologically theirs," I explained in unnecessary detail, giving off how okay I was with the situation with just those introductory words.

He took a second to process that. "That's a lot," he eventually concluded. I was glad he didn't respond immediately, because that's how I could tell the other person just wanted to agree with me.

"So, you get it?" I confirmed, digging my shoe in the ground in frustration.

"For sure," he concurred, pushing my swing again. "It's a big adjustment."

It still surprised me how good he was at handling this situation. "And it's not ridiculous that I'm feeling like this at my age? I mean, I'm not a kid."

"First off, feelings can't be ridiculous, they're biological, just like the child your parents are having," he joked and I wasn't sure how to keep a straight face through that. "And secondly, you're factoring in some nonsense about being adopted, and I bet your parents won't even think something like that in their wildest dreams."

I pursed my lips. I wasn't sure how he knew this irrational fear of mine, because if my parents even had a hint of me thinking that I was on my way to becoming useless now that another child was on the way, they would be absolutely devastated. "And you got all that off of one fangirl meet and greet with my mother?"

"I read people well," he confessed and I more than believed him.

After that, there was a big chunk of silence where other fears whispered in my ear. "I actually don't think I'm cut out to be a sister," I said, still being gradually swung back and forth. "I've never been a good sister."

"I understand that," he disclosed in a quiet voice and I got the very strong feeling that I was about to let in on something intimate, "I felt the same way when my younger brother came into the picture, I just never got along with my older ones. But he turned out to be one of my favorite people, so… there's that." I could tell that he was really struggling to say this but did so for my benefit.

"Thank you for telling me something about yourself without looking like you're in pain," I appreciated, making sure things didn't get too heavy for this to be replicated. After all, this felt like a safe space of some sort, one that I wanted to come back to again.

"What can I say? I have my moments," he said in fake humility, placing a hand on his heart. "I think you're selling yourself short, kid. You're gonna be fine."

Somehow, everything felt just a little better after that. "I think I'm ready to go home," I told him, and we both stepped off the swings.

I made him walk me back to the grocery store to get the things for that dinner I promised, and then I made him walk me home too. But I knew he would've done those things without my asking. I was coming to realize that that was just the kind of guy he was.

In another twist to an incredibly surprising evening, he handed me the bag of candy just as we were about to part ways. "Wow, the guy who starts gang wars over a single box of Choco Balls is handing over an entire candy stash? I'll go into shock Killua, stop."

"Consider this a peace offering, we can move on from our mortal enemy status now," he suggested with a grin, flashing a set of perfect ultra-white teeth.

"To… friends?" I probed. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hear a bit of a different answer.

He considered that for a moment. "Let's… table that conversation for another time."

This was all he offered before sinking his hands into his pockets and walking away. Watching him as he disappeared from my line of view I realized something that made me swallow, hard.

I had a big fat crush on this guy. Yikes.