Chapter: 9

"Salient."

The sunlight. It was how it streamed through her chocolate brown locks as they shook when she ran. He would watch her; always. When she sat in the orchard, her tiny legs crossed and her chin leaned on the palms of her delicate hands as she stroked the grass, he would wonder what she was thinking. He would watch her when she counted her steps while walking on the cold hall floor. He would hear her delighted laughter as it boomed and echoed through the empty rooms; it would make him smile. He would peek at her when she sometimes argued with herself over what was above the sky and frown as she would shut one of her eyes and encircle the sun with her small fingers. He would watch her as she read to herself, or as she bit her lip in deep concentration. He would see the gleam in her eyes when she was excited.

She carried an outline of light and colour with her wherever she went. He had watched her laugh, he had seen her cry. She had painted the mansion's empty walls with joy, and she spread warmth all around.

He shouldn't have a preference, but out of the three, she was the one who amazed him the most. He would watch her in awe; she had a kind heart. She had a way of getting to everyone around her.

There were times when he considered calling out to her, talking to her, laughing with her. Letting the little five year old child soothe some of the hurt in him. But there was always the one thing that stopped him. He couldn't let her know him; he wanted to live free of that guilt. He didn't want her to ever know him, she would be ashamed of him, and she would hate him if someday she knew.

She was small, full of life and joy. She didn't know him, but he loved her. He had no right to, but he loved her. So, as she asked him his name with curiosity burning in her eyes, he masked himself. He would let her live with a ghost of his reality, maybe this way, if someday she found out, she would hate him a bit less. He asked her name in return, even though he knew; he knew so well. He knew everything about her and he had loved her long before she ever saw him.

"Ro?" the little five year old girl waved her hand in front of the brown haired man. "Are you sleepy?" she asked, blinking.

"No," he said, startled out of his thoughts. "Just, thinking."

She cocked her head. "I think too," she smiled. "Me and Luca, we think about what we will play next."

He beamed at her. "Do you like your book?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "But, Ro, I want that one." she pointed at the red, ancient cover of the volume placed on the high shelf.

He found it odd, that she should show interest in reading the one that appealed to him the most. "It's very difficult," he confessed. "You can't read it yet."

"I can, I can understand. I know how to read," she insisted.

He glanced at her pensively and knelt on his knees. "Let's make a deal, when you can reach it, you can have it."

She grinned, "I can keep it too?"

"Yes, but only when you can get all the way up there," he pointed to the raised compartment.

"It's okay," she said looking at her feet. "Yui-san says I grow up really fast."

And fast she did grow, when the days turned into months and the months into years. When the sun rose and was dipped in the darkness once again, the cycle was repeated and each moment ticked by the clock, disintegrated into non-being.

"There," said the seven year old girl, holding the red ancient covered book up. "Mine," she smiled and got off her tip toes.

"I would call that cheating," accused the brown-haired man, "But I guess a deal is a deal."

"I'll have this read by tonight."

"It's not how fast you read it though," corrected the man, smiling. "It's how deep you do, just as it doesn't matter what's on the outside of the cover, everything is within."

The girl grimaced. "You say that all the time, I don't get it," she admitted.

"Nevermind, just promise me, you'll keep that with you and you'll keep it safe," he said indicating the scarlet printed volume.

"I will," she agreed. "The Three Magi," she read from the cover. She closed her eyes in concentration and repeated his earlier used words. "Everything is within."

"That's right. Everything is in the book, Claire, it's all you need."

She raised an eyebrow as she looked at him.

"Stay safe," he said, shutting his eyes slowly.

She gently traced the dark circles under his eyes with her fingers. "You look tired, are you sick?" she asked concerned. He had looked weaker with each passing day since the previous year.

"Just a bit under the weather," he said hastily. "Nothing serious," he stood up and stroked her hair. "Goodbye then."

"Are you going somewhere?" she asked, worried.

"No," he assured. "Just to take some rest. I will see you again," he said but his voice lacked any hope and surely, even though he forced her to believe the contrary, that was the last time she saw him.

I ticked my pen, trying to create a suitable enough tune in my head. Pretending to be actually absorbed in history lectures was actually one of the hardest parts of my life. There were mainly three reasons for that:

One, the teacher hated me since Killua had expressed interest in working on an assignment with me. Two, I hated the teacher because she hated me, and also because she looked at Killua in a way that was, in no way, considered proper; it made me feel a weird feeling which I had deciphered as jealousy. Three, I hated the subject.

"Yo," Killua whispered from my side. But on the plus side, history wasn't so bad as long as I had the blue-eyed boy next to me.

"Hi," I whispered back and allowed myself one glance at him. Increase in heartbeat, check.

"You look tired," he said, looking deeply in my eyes. "Didn't you sleep well?"

I gave him a small smile. Somehow, I really liked the concern in his voice. "No, actually I slept really well, I don't have nightmares anymore so I get a proper amount of sleep these days," I said enthusiastically.

"You had nightmares?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

My smile faded. Damn it, I wasn't supposed to say that. "Y-yeah... sometimes."

He studied my face carefully and I dropped my gaze. "You don't look okay."

"Uh... well I do feel a bit tired," I admitted. "And my hands are really sweaty."

He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. "Your face is all hot, are you sick? You should check in with the nurse," he suggested.

I shook my head. "No, actually I'm on my period."

"Oh," he said and there was a small pause. "Give me your hand."

I held my hand out and he took it. Straightening both our hands until my arms was running the length of his, it felt ice cold.

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted. "It feels really good, thanks," I said breathlessly. If only he knew what I was actually referring to. "Why are you so cold?"

He smiled crookedly. "I'm not; you're the one who's burning up."

Someone cleared their throat loudly. We both looked up and the whole class was staring at us some with mouths wide open while most of the girls were glaring at me. But it was nothing compared to the vicious glare the teacher gave me.

I tried to break free, extremely embarrassed, but Killua simply lowered our intertwined hands and looked forward as casually as ever.

I looked down wishing that the ground would swallow me up as I tried to control my uneven breathing. I tried to avoid getting distracted as I listened half-heartedly to the report on the Second World War.

Suddenly, there was a moment in which lightening struck. Killua started rubbing his thumb lightly on the back of my hand. No. My heart was in my throat. It lasted about three seconds until the bell rung and he let go, but it was enough to make me feel partially faint.

"You should still go to the infirmary though," he suggested as we walked out.

"I'm fine," I whispered, glancing sideways for safety reasons.

"You look like a zombie, on fire," he added.

I scowled at him. "You look like a... pinecone," I said, narrowing my eyes.

He rolled his eyes. "Heartless Rambo crushed my soul," he placed his hand on his heart.

I gave him a skeptical look. "So... um, you're busy tonight, right?" I said, attempting once again to talk him out of coming to dinner tonight, like I had been trying to all week.

"Nope," he said, smirking. "I'm as free as a pineconeless pine tree."

"What—" I stopped as I opened my locker. "What about your cousin, huh? He'd be alone, I mean— uh, you know what I mean," I murmured. Even I didn't know what I meant. I stuffed my books in.

"I think," he said in a business-like manner. "Gon can heat up his own dinner in the microwave for just one evening without setting the house on fire," he looked away like he thought the exact opposite.

"What if—" I said, thinking of some worst-case scenarios, "What if there was some zombie apocalypse, huh?"

"I think that already started," he said, eyeing me.

I sighed as we walked to the grounds. "My life is over," I whined as I pictured tonight. My hyperactive mom, my awkwardly hesitant dad, my extremely jumpy nonna and Killua Hayashi in one house.

"What is it with you girls and drama?" he asked, annoyed. "My nail broke, my life is over! I should at least pay it some respect by having a funeral for it," he squeaked in a weird high-pitched voice, which was supposed to be an imitation of mine. "Seriously."

I pursed my lips and held back a snort. "I do not sound anything like that."

"I'm so sorry Eddie, my wise and advising hair-brush, did it hurt? I'll call an ambulance," he mumbled in the same voice.

My eyes widened. "You jerk—" I said, trying to smack his shoulder, but he dodged it and I lost my balance and fell straight down, grazing my knee with the pavement. "Ouch," I bit my lip.

He knelt down on his knee. "Stay still." he rolled up the hem of my jeans.

"Is it bleeding?" I asked shutting my eyes. Blood was the last thing I needed.

There was a pause. "No."

"Oh, God." I pressed my palm to my forehead. "It is, isn't it?" I asked, slightly panicked. Don't think of the blood, don't, don't.

"Just hold still." He dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out a tissue and gently wiped my knee, I held my breath; I could smell the blood.

"Distract me," I murmured.

"What?" he asked, perplexed, still staring the wound.

"Say something, anything to get my mind off the blood. I— I feel dizzy," I pleaded.

He placed a hand behind my back and one below my legs.

"What the— hey," I complained as he held me, bridal style.

"You're going to the infirmary," he informed me.

"Wha— wait!" I said as he carried my back to the hall. "Killua!" I whisper-shouted as all the people stared at me.

"What? Are you six?" he asked, irritated. "What's with you and not going to the nurse?"

"I— The needles hurt okay?" I blurted out, raising a hand to shield my face from the viewers.

He snorted. "Needles. Oh, the horror." he opened the door to the infirmary with his foot and put me down on one of the beds.

We both looked around; there was no one. Killua took the liberty of exploring one of the cabinets.

"That's— isn't that wrong? I mean, won't you get in trouble?" I asked, trying my best not to stare at my bleeding knee.

He took out some cotton, an antiseptic bottle, and a pack of bandages. He opened the lid of the bottle as he ignored me.

"So, um, what if you get sick or something?" I asked, once again attempting to make him drop out of coming to dinner.

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious—what if—wait. Wait," I shifted my arms to my sides. "You don't know my family. They're—horrible," I muttered. "My dad, he is, trust me, you guys will hate each other."

He sighed as he quietly applied the medication, which stung. "Shut up already," he pleaded.

"My dad, he's—he's so mean—he's horrendous, he—doesn't like people who have blue eyes," I said boring my gaze into his. Somehow, trying to make my nonsense sink into his brain.

He gave me a skeptical look. "Wow, you're even dumber than you look."

I pursed my lips. "What if—what if Pluto and Mars collide?"

"Too bad for them," he answered as he put on the bandage. "Good girl," he patted me on the shoulder. "For once you didn't whine on something," he pulled out what I recognized as a bunny head-shaped lollipop from his pocket and handed it to me.

"Thanks," I looked at his face. He was so beautiful, I could only stare.

"Can you make it home?" he asked, checking his phone.

I nodded.

"Good, I'll see you later," he walked towards the door.

"Wait," I said quickly.

He turned around, his gaze questioning.

"What if my grandmother says you should get a haircut?" I debriefed, playing my last card.

His expression changed from bored to thoughtful. He scratched his head. "Then I guess I would," he shrugged.

The green-eyed man shifted his weight from one foot to another as opened the plain brown door that held the tag 'Keitomaro'. He dropped the files on the wide desk and let the brief case drop to the ground as he heaved a huge sigh. He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face while flexing the muscles of his shoulders.

"You have nerve," said a voice from behind, "Showing your face to me again."

He turned around, his expression in fake surprised, "Killua?"

The silver-haired boy was leaning against the wall, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes, murderous. "Stop this act," he ordered. "I am not playing this game of tag with you anymore."

"I fail to understand what you are saying," the man said innocently, "I don't know—"

"Shut it," he commanded in a calm tone. "Don't make me do something ugly. I have just two words for you: get out," he spat. "Get out of this town, take it as an advice, or stay and watch your back every second."

"This is a mere coincidence!" the man argued. "I did not know you were currently residing here, I do not have any other purpose here than what appears."

"Still the dirty cheat you were years ago, eh? Lying your way out of trouble, you disgust me."

"This is misunderstanding, I am just as surprised as you are—"

The seventeen year old boy shut his eyes in frustration. "Give me one good reason not to kill you right here, right now," he demanded. "You continue to claim your death, I have granted you so many chances; my tolerance doesn't live long," he confessed.

The man stopped still until after a while his face split into an evil grin. "Because as you claim, you're not a murder, you have no fault in what happened seven years ago. According to you, you are no longer connected to your family; that is the past."

A muscle in the boy's jaw twitched. "I am not answerable to you, although I will repeat this to you again. Your family's murder was an assigned mission, I only obeyed instructions. If you want revenge go find the culprit who ordered their death. I had no personal grudge against them."

"You killed them," he spat, his hands shaking with rage. "You killed them before my eyes."

The boy bore his gaze deep into the man's. "You know what forces me to let you off every time? It's the pity," he walked closer to him. "Look at you. You know you have no real purpose in life; you satisfy your meaningless existence with believing in a surreal goal. It's not too late, there's always a chance at redemption; don't waste your life."

The man glared at him bitterly. "Go to hell."

The boy smirked. "I will, but I promise you, I will get you there first if you ever get in my way again."

The man's figure trembled with anger as he gritted his teeth.

The silver haired boy patted his shoulder. "Thank you for your time, professor. Don't make me kill you," he walked out just as casually as he had walked in. Now that his job here was done, he had a visit to the barber and a dinner to attend.

"You know that I know that you know you're cheating right?" I asked my dad as he fished another card from the deck.

"Am I?" he asked innocently.

I rolled my eyes. My dad never cheated, unless he had other intentions. "If you wanna talk about something, you just have to ask. There's no need to pretend to play with enthusiasm and bring it up as an after the game conversation," I informed.

He shrugged. "I don't need to say anything."

I rolled my eyes again. "You're forgetting you're an awful liar."

"I'm no lying," he defended. "It's not like I'm putting up this act to ask you about the guy Hana mentioned," he said examining his cards.

I face palmed. "Seriously, you too?" I said looking around. Just as I thought. My mom was pretending to work on dinner poking salad with a fork and my nonna was reading a magazine... upside down.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded. "It's just that... I'm your dad, it's my job."

I sighed.

"So, do you, I mean— you know like—" he began.

"Dad, it's nothing like that we're just friends," I murmured.

"Really? Because Hana said something about you both k—"

"Alright!" I groaned. "Can you guys not make such a fuss about it? He's coming to dinner in a few hours since I couldn't talk mom out of it and so yeah, you'll get to know him and fulfil your fatherly duties," I sighed. "Just don't— if you guys could be just a little less—" I paused to find the right word. Humiliating, embarrassing, hyperbolic, crazy."Jumpy," I ended up saying.

"We're not jumpy," said my mom. "We're lively. Nobody likes boring parents, for example we should have some games tonight—"

I shot her the look. "Okay, okay. No jumpiness."

"And a little less loud?" I begged glancing at my nonna.

She gaped at me. "I'm old, I'm supposed to be loud," she argued.

"Oh, come on," I encouraged. "You don't look a day older than seventy five."

She gave me a skeptical look. "I'm sixty two."

"A girl at my school was asking me if you were my sister."

"If you're trying to flatter me," she said flipping through the upside down magazine. "It's working."

I grinned.

"Okay," agreed my nonna. "We'll be less loud and jumpy—"

"And awkward," I added hastily.

"Yes," my mom joined. "But," they both said firmly.

"But?" I asked confused.

"Only on one condition."

I raised an eyebrow. "That would be?"

I stepped out of the bathroom and took one look at myself in the bedroom mirror as I straightened the creases on the dress my mom and nonna had forcedly made me wear. I had to admit it didn't look as bad as I thought, white suited me well. I spun around examining every part of the dress. It was simple, with a little lace and fell down to my knees. I still couldn't understand why I let them talk me into this, it was ridiculous.

I heard something behind me click and when I turned around a star-struck looking Killua was staring at me with the window wide open behind him.

We both just gazed at each other for a while.

"Sorry," he said. "Must be the wrong house," he pretended to turn around and get out of the window, a smile in his voice.

"Is it too much?" I sighed. "I'll go change," I said hastily.

"Hey," he called. "I was kidding; you know that thing I told you about the other day?"

I rolled my eyes. "I thought you would come through the door at least this once."

"I will," he said, throwing himself back on the bed. "Later."

I sat down beside him and covered half of my face with my hands. "My mom made me wear this stupid dress— I didn't want to," I said, my voice sounding like Darth Vader coming through my hands.

He glanced up at me. "May force be with you," he joked.

I studied him carefully, there was something different about him, and I just couldn't put my finger on it. "Did you get a hair-cut?" I asked in disbelief as I examined the silvery strands which were about an inch shorter.

"No, it's autumn, plus I have systemic lupus so I am shedding," he said, lacking his usual confidence.

I smirked. He was feeling uncomfortable. I cleared my throat. "I like what you've done with your hair, looks nice," I said softly.

His gaze darted to mine in milliseconds. "You do?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah," I bit my lower lip. "I mean, how did you get it to come out of the nostrils like that?"

He rolled his eyes and smiled crookedly as he stood up.

He was wearing a collared button-down shirt and jeans. He picked the collar with his fingers uncomfortably. "Do me a favour: can you pretend to be surprised when I give you those?" he said pointing back at the bed.

I looked at the small bouquet of roses lying there, unnoticed. "Woah— that's so— they're really pretty."

He sat back down on the bed, taking off his shoes this time. "What am I supposed to talk about with your folks?" he asked casually.

I smiled as I realized why he was behaving so weirdly: he was nervous. "Um— my mom likes uh... pets? Just— I don't know, she's loud," I admitted. "She likes— you know blonde stuff," I shrugged. "My dad likes books, um— you know, he's a lot like me," I added. "He's not really talkative, kind of reserved I guess, oh, and whatever you do, don't talk good about Hunters in front of him; just... praise the community services, I don't know."

"Why?" he asked confused.

"It's— really complicated and long."

"I do complicated," he pressed.

I sighed. "My dad—he was, um— it's that, he was adopted, too," I mumbled playing with my fingers. "There was a huge explosion in Daitō back when he was eight—his parents died and he just had two of his brothers left, one of them was badly injured. My dad thought—he thought the Hunters would come and rescue them but he was wrong," I breathed. "Nobody came and his brother didn't make it. He was devastated, they spent three days under that wreckage until some people found them and they were transferred to an orphanage." I paused. "Just when things couldn't get worse his other brother just—disappeared one day and my dad just—broke down," I said staring at my feet. "Long story short, he blames the Hunters for everything. He thinks if they would've come then things wouldn't have been this way."

"And you think the same, I mean, you have a grudge against them too?" he asked guarded.

I laughed a bit breathlessly. "Don't tell my dad this, but I considered running away from home when I was twelve to take the Hunter exam, I was such a wannabe, God." I shook my head. "I thought it was a quiz or something."

He raised an eyebrow and studied my face carefully, he looked deep in thought. "Do I look okay?" he asked eventually as he got up and put his shoes back on.

"Yeah, you look um— sturdy." I walked to him. "Just." I unbuttoned the first button of his shirt and his eyes widened. "Chill, be yourself." I straightened his collar and smiled at him.

He glanced behind me at the mirror. "God, I look hot."

I rolled my eyes. "There he is."

"The fantastically sexy lad with the amazing hair?"

I pushed him back. "The idiotically smug asshole who annoys the hell out of everyone."

He took my hand and a step back as he grabbed the bouquet from the bed and kissed it lightly. "Admit it, you love that about me." he grinned and threw me a salute as he disappeared out of the window. I just blinked like an idiot for the next few minutes.

I slowly descended the stairs. Feeling extremely self-conscious with the dress on. I glanced up; everyone was looking at me with their mouths wide open. Okay, so I never wore dresses. Big deal. Still this wasn't reason enough for them to stare at me like I was a mutated coconut who had sprouted a leg.

"If you guys keep looking at me that way I swear I'm gonna go change right now." Everyone shifted their gaze as if I was invisible and something I noticed, Mr. Domoto was also in the crowd. So, he was also included in the guy judgement council conference. I mentally rolled my eyes. I still had a grudge against him because of the time he told my mom about Killua, so I assigned myself a mission for the night. Give him hell Claire.

I positioned myself at the couch near the door securing the act of opening it once Killua got here. I twiddled with my thumbs for about two minutes, still safely ignored, until I heard what clearly sounded like the rumble of a car engine as it got louder and finally died.

Approximately a minute later, there was a knock on the door. I took a deep breath and got up. But to my disbelief Mr. Domoto beat me to the chase. He already had the door wide open by the time I reached and revealed a tall, lean and sturdy looking figure with silver hair holding the same bouquet of roses I saw upstairs.

They gave each other a 'manly' look and shook hands. I didn't know whether that was a good sign or not. Males could be confusing.

"Minoru Domoto," his eyes darted outside for the fraction of a second.

"Killua Hayashi," he said firmly.

I glanced between the two for a few seconds before deciding to intervene. "Hey," I said catching his attention.

He smiled. The same genuine smile that always made me crave for more. "Hi, these are for you," he said handing me the bouquet.

I fake-widened my eyes pretending to be taken off guard and gasped. "God— they're beautiful. Thanks."

He simply nodded and walked in.

But now was the time where I couldn't delay it anymore. Here came the introductions. "This is my dad," I said gesturing towards him with a hand. "Dad, this is Killua."

There was another 'manly' handshake, but if I didn't perceive wrongly it seemed a lot less formal and tense than the one before.

"You already know my mom, and this is um—my—" dog, I almost wanted to say. "Neighbour," indicating to him. "And that's my nonna," I mumbled.

My mom lightly hugged him, and for a second, I believed I was out of the danger zone, but suddenly my nonna grabbed Killua's face and kissed him on both cheeks. "Ah, he is as handsome as you said!" she squeaked.

I froze. Okay, now my life was over. What happened to not being loud, jumpy and awkward? Why didn't I say embarrassing?

Killua chuckled lightly, restoring me from my close death, and awkwardly rubbed his neck. Everyone joined in the laughter, everyone except me, who was fighting for air.

Killua's legs were both parted from each other and he was leaning his arms on his knees, seemed like a casual enough position as he was seated on the sofa. There was a short quietude, in which I prayed more than I ever had in my life.

Mr. Domoto grunted. "Renault?" he asked.

I blinked, unable to comprehend his language.

"Yeah, Fluence," Killua answered lightly. "Latest."

"On petrol?" asked my dad joining in.

"Yeah, great mileage," Killua answered.

Cars. They were talking about cars. God. It was weird how these three seemed to have bonded in three seconds. Maybe all men had this weird untold understanding which made all the people around them feel like ignorant and made them realize how small they actually were as compared to the whole universe. How utterly small and unimportant. Was I okay?

"135 bhp, engine's a blast—" I tuned them out, I was not a 'car' person or maybe cars weren't a me thing.

"Claire?" my mom whispered. "Help me set dinner?"

I nodded and got up. I had to delay this somehow, because after they were done with cars, there was always the questioning, about family, future plans, trying to find out exactly what kind of a guy he was and if I wasn't mistaking my mom might just be reckless enough to ask him straight out if he was planning to marry me. I shuddered.

I dragged my feet, advantaging myself with the friction. I had to slow this down. But after two shifts of putting everything in place, everything was finished and unfortunately five minutes later everyone was seated in front of the dining table. I had faithfully secured a seat next to Killua; it was for emergencies, like if someone said something stupid, I could stuff food in his ears.

There was clinking of forks and tapping of plates. "Hey kid," said Mr. Domoto from my side. "Pass the salad?"

I gritted my teeth and glared at him as I handed him the salad bowl. "I think the food isn't according to your taste since we ran out of dog food," I muttered in a low tone.

He rolled his eyes.

"I hope you like Lasagna, Killua. Claire said you don't eat spicy," my mom said politely as she dug a spoon in her plate of mashed potatoes.

"Oh, I love it." Killua smirked at me for the fraction of a second.

There was another long silence, with food chewing, stuff passing and awkward sniffs.

"So, what about your family?" asked my dad trying to act casual and of course, failing. "You're from here?"

Killua cleared his throat. "Nagoya," he answered. "I'm from Nagoya. My parents run a family business," he said lightly apparently busy with his food.

I pursed my lips. If I remembered well, he had told me he was from a city in Gorteau named Aiden. I chewed slowly. We were going to have a talk later.

Slowly my mom started joining in the conversation asking him about his interests.

Currently everything was within the 'safe' boundaries and everyone seemed to be getting along. Mr. Domoto and Killua had resumed the conversation on cars, and then there was a small session with my nonna and then an awkward silence that definitely screamed 'pericolo'.

"So," said my mom apparently in the mood to chat. "Are you two, like, together?"

Killua shifted. I was petrified. Whatever was in my mouth was now stuck in my throat, I started coughing. God, I was choking.

Killua poured me a glass of water and patted my back. I washed the food down with the water; my eyes were wet from all the struggling for air. I shot my mom a threatening glare. "Did you have some mashed potatoes?" I asked Killua hysterically. "You should definitely have some, here," I started piling them on his plate before he could answer.

"I've had—" he began. "Wait, Claire. Hey—"

I lost it. My brain was no longer controlling my hands. The only function they knew was 'put mashed potatoes in his plate'

He grabbed my wrist. "Claire," he said boring his gaze into mine. "That's enough mashed potatoes," he said it emphasizing what he actually meant, 'have you lost it?'

I laughed nervously and took a deep breath. From my side Mr. Domoto snorted. "If you wanna keep that mouth you better shut it," I cursed.

"I'm not the one acting like deranged jackass," he responded smugly.

I pursed my lips.

Dessert was disasterless enough and by the end of dinner my nonna had recounted all my embarrassing childhood stories to Killua, including the one in which I got stuck in an elevator for four hours; the three men had discussed every existent car model on the planet and Killua had been forbidden to address my mom and dad as 'ma'am' and 'sir'.

When it was late enough to be excused Killua glanced at his wrist watch. "I should get going," he said and I sighed out of relief.

"Now?" my mom said perplexed. "It's family game night, stay a little longer," she proposed excited.

My eyes widened. Family game night was crazy... period. Last time we had the neighbours call over to make sure someone hadn't died because of all the screaming that was going on.

"Well, why—" Killua began.

"No, wait, what?" I asked on the verge of making my eyes fall out with all the blinking I was doing. "No—no, no, no he can't stay for family game night." I laughed nervously. "Killua doesn't play games—it's forbidden in his tribe," I blabbered. "He made me swear—that was his condition, no games or he's out. I mean—this is so insulting. No gaming—the world is ending—we should be respectful." I grabbed Killua's arm as he gaped at me and waved around like a retard. "Bye, bye."

Everyone gave me a puzzled look.

I shut the door behind me as we both got out and a cold gust of wind made me tremble.

"Well, that was something," Killua said as he disguised a chuckle as a cough.

I sighed. "Shut up, I get nervous."

He dug his hands in his pockets. "I'm not making it up this time," he said looking at me. "You look a lot like your father."

I grinned. "I know, everyone says that," I said shivering.

"Are you—?" he began.

"No, I'm not one of his distant relatives, they got me straight from the orphanage," I mumbled.

"Oh, actually I was gonna ask if you were cold."

"Oh," I said rubbing my forehead. "Well not really."

He put a cigarette in his mouth and flickered on his lighter.

I snatched it and bent it in two while glaring at him.

"What the hell?" he asked in disbelief.

"One inhale of this stuff, five percent increase in heartbeat and a sharp rise in blood pressure, most common side effects, nervous damage, a forty percent probability of causing lung and mouth cancer and scurvy," I said the words just as I had read them down from an article about smoking. "It's like poison."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm immune to poison," he murmured and then stopped still for a moment.

"Right," I said sarcastically. "And I just won an Oscar in there."

"It wasn't that bad," he encouraged.

"No?" I asked half-heartedly.

"Nah," he waved his hand. "It was way worse than 'bad'."

I scowled at him. "Idiot, I saved your butt back there."

He snorted. "Yeah, but you lost yours," he said grinning.

"Ungrateful jerk, you owe me."

"No way," he argued. "I got you out of P.E once, we're even."

"Aha, let's not count that; my tennis try out didn't go marvellously because of your buahaha echoing throughout the gym, I hit my head with the racket; I could have died," I accused.

"Don't exaggerate, you tripped over your own feet," he sniggered. "Man, I thought that only happened on TV."

"I have a balance prob—" I groaned, "Nevermind."

"And what about the—" he wrapped his hands around his throat. "Choking problem? Comes with only incredibly hot guys around?"

I glared at him. "I was trying to get that smugly egoistic ass of yours out of trouble."

"That's a very Rambo-ish thing to do," he approved. "Always behind that sniper, ready to swipe in and save the day," he shut one of his eyes and pretended to take aim at something with his hands formed like a pistol. "Can you say this one line from Rambo? I could like record it and brag that I met Sylvester Stallone," he chuckled.

I stared at him in disbelief. "Fuck off, okay?" I rolled my eyes.

His eyes widened. "I swear to God, that's a Rambo dialogue."

I groaned. "Don't provoke me, I am fully capable of highly embarrassing comments, I might not be related to my mom but I'm still her daughter," I mumbled.

"Nope," he waved his hand. "I'd give that one a C."

"You grade conversations?"

"Not really, I just came up with the C thingy 'cause it was eventually gonna lead to the word 'choke' and then we could do the whole thing over again," he grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "Between us though," I said leaning closer to him and lowering my voice. "If I hadn't—" I paused to pick the right words."—blocked my wind pipe with food, what would— I mean, I don't know," I shrugged. "What would you have, like you know, said?" I tried to mask my curiosity. God, I was so lame.

I raised my gaze and met his as he moved his face closer. He leaned his forehead against mine. "I don't know. What do you think?" he whispered.

I closed my eyes inhaling the cold, humid air and the sweet scent of him. "Umm—" I mumbled. "You smell nice?" I said trying to change the subject.

"Sorry, I don't flirt," he said with a smile in his voice.

"Right, because winking at a woman who is a mother of two kids and making her blush seven shades of red is the demonstration of an innocent mother-son relationship, but that's good that you're a rookie at flirting, 'cause you know, I do—I'm an expert, like um—you know I'm a flirt expert," I blabbered. "For example when you say the word 'flirt' in general the first thing that comes to mind is, do you like bread?" I continuously blabbered.

I felt his breath on my face as he chuckled and I slightly parted my lips. "God, stop. You could seduce people with that line."

"I know," I chortled. "My prior victims were clueless."

I could feel him slowly closing the distance between us. This was going to be one the most salient nights of my life, in all that had happened and all that was yet to happen. I just had to keep my eyes closed and let him kiss me, maybe that way the hollow I had felt in my heart for so long might be filled. I wanted that.

"Claire, honey! You're gonna catch a cold!" my mom called from inside.

He threw his head back and I groaned. "This is just not gonna happen, is it?" I said through gritted teeth. "Well," I said sighing. "Have a safe trip home."

He smirked and lowered his face ever so slightly. I gave him a questioning glace and suddenly his lips touched my forehead. It felt like all the blood from my body was rushing to my head. "I will," he said breaking away. "Good night." He walked away and gave his usual side-wave. I watched him get into his car and drive away and just as his car disappeared into the darkness I touched my fingers to my forehead. God, I am never washing my face again.

The door opened behind me and Mr. Domoto stepped out.

We both looked at each other for a while. "Listen," he said breaking the silence. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have told on you, about that boy, I was just looking out for you, you know? I have no right but—"

I hugged him just to shut him up. "You did great," I mumbled. When I pulled away he had a confused expression.

"Are you okay?" he grimaced.

"Never better," I almost sang. "Bye." I patted his head.

I went inside a bit drunkenly, feeling like the five year old who had too much cake and plopped down on the couch.

"What a gentleman," my mom approved.

I simply hummed, still a bit over-whelmed by what had happened.

"I like that boy," said my dad glancing at me.

I looked out the window. "Yeah, me too." Jesus, I think I was in love.

As the lonely girl with the broken will starts to fade,

a soul with tenacity, prominence and life takes her place.