I am back after quite a long break. Sorry if I had you waiting, I sort of lost all inspiration to write in the past three months for some reason, but, at last this chapter is complete and I really hope you like it! Thank you, thank you so very much for your amazing reviews that always make my day; A huge thanks to both of my beta-readers, Kimi is super-strict with grammar so, she basically polishes the chapters until there aren't even the tiniest of mistakes (let's face it, she's a life-saver) Now, about the chapter, this is where the story is starting to take a serious turn and I'm sure you can guess very well that the next chapter won't be very pleasing... anyway, there is a lot of switching between the Povs of both the characters, just to explain it all better, plus there are two pieces of poetry in this chapter, just to add a bit to the effect. Well, here goes.

Chapter: 15

"Oblivious."

His skin the shade of autumn,

His eyes the colour of spring,

His lips the hue of blossom;

His love as tempting as sin.

His heart the frost of winter,

His smile of summer rays,

His words like piercing splinters;

His promises— the seasons change.

The brunette fidgeted needlessly with the hood of her jacket until she simply decided to slide her hands into her pockets. The feeble rays of the sun in the winter sky were a sad sight to see. Her nails involuntarily dug in her palms, forcing her to release them again as if they would melt if she kept them in her pockets any longer; it was hard to explain, but recently, she couldn't understand what to do with her hands— where to keep them.

A soft groan escaped her lips as she walked down towards the end of the bridge. For some reason, her veins felt cold; if she didn't know it wasn't humanly possible to survive without any blood in your body, she would be sure there wasn't anything flowing inside her. Removing a dark lock of hair from her face she nervously rubbed her palm on her jeans.

There was a thick layer of snow deposited on the cement and a fine icy sheet on the metallic bars she passed by. She had always hated the snow because of the numbness it left behind: a reason she had often been referred to as an 'old soul.' Of course, who possibly didn't like the snow fall?

One soft, chilly breeze caressed her cheek and the seventeen-year-old found herself shivering before she made a conscious decision to do so. The snow didn't only hide the fallen leaves of autumn, and the wind, it carried more than just the broken souls, lies, and sins.

The brown-eyed girl's pensive mind immediately became alert as her shoulder hit a firm surface, causing her boot to slip on the frozen ground— she could've sworn that she'd at least break an arm, but she felt a strong grip on her elbow pull her upward and steady her. It took her approximately three seconds to make sense of the occurred events as she was taken aback by the deep set of sapphire-blue eyes staring at her. Penetrating, his eyes were so penetrating, she thought as she gazed at the obscure ocean before her— so many secrets, unspoken words, it felt like if she got an inch closer, he would read her mind.

She blinked, regaining consciousness of her peculiar actions: gazing into a stranger's eyes. She was far from sane. Her sight darted sideways and she found herself examining his features carefully: hair as fair as the greyish frost, almost silver, nearly having a luster, which contrasted perfectly with the black of his clothing. Her muscles tensed instantly, it felt like a thousand memories were flooding into her brain, memories she couldn't access. It felt like— like she knew him from somewhere, maybe from a very long time ago or from another life— did he know her? There was a word prickling right at the tip of her tongue; she couldn't recall it.

The handsome stranger raised a silver eyebrow and gave her an odd look before releasing her arm; it was then that she realized he was holding onto her all this time. Had it been a moment? Or a century? Had he been feeling what she felt? For a second, she had the urge to say something, but in the same instant she realized it would be incredibly strange to ask an unknown person whether they had seen each other before.

The boy took a step back and then sauntered opposite to where she stood until she could no longer him in her peripheral vision. She touched the cold bars, her brain half numb, and then as fast as a bullet the word hit her: Serendipity.

She immediately turned around, not knowing what she would do next. She froze. The street was as empty as it should be at six a.m Sunday morning. There was nothing but the fog; it was odd— was she just about to call out to that boy? And then she found herself wondering whether the prior event was a mere fragment of her imagination. She took a deep breath; of course she must have been hallucinating, after all, he did seem more like a character from a movie than a lonely boy walking up the streets at this time. Of course.

The girl stood there in deep thought for a moment until she turned around and walked away shaking her head at her brain's wild creations. But what she didn't know was that sometimes more than one broken soul can find refuge in the isolated cold.

I woke up in the morning with weird incomprehensible dreams roaming in my brain, a minor memory loss from the previous night due to a wild drinking spree and a severe headache, not to mention my small head injury because I actually jerked myself awake, hitting my skull on the headboard.

Sometimes, I wished people were actually born with manuals on how they were supposed to spend their lives or, at least, I wish someone had come up with an ultimate philosophy to exist without regrets since that was always what ate me up in the end—the regrets and guilt.

If you asked my boyfriend, or my best friend, or my advisor who all happen to be the same person, as a matter of fact, he'd say: "Screw life, live as you please and seize the moment." And if I'd mention the life guide thing to him he'd definitely say: "Where's the fun in that?"

Even if I had Googled whether it was normal to deliberately come up with questions and then answer them yourself from your man's perspective, I wouldn't get one single result and that was just sad—even for me. I shook my head as I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my desiccated form. I attempted all of the activities that could be done to kill time in a bathroom on a Sunday at 5 a.m. I shaved my legs twice and took a long shower.

At last, I wrapped a towel around myself and wondered if it was too late to fall asleep again. I walked out, planning on drying my dripping hair when a figure in my peripheral vision startled me and I involuntarily jumped back.

"OH MY GOD, KILLUA!" I nearly shouted.

His eyes widened as he saw me and his mouth fell open.

I ran back inside the bathroom as I realized I was almost bare. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I whisper-shouted as I pulled on a shirt.

"Just cover yourself, please," he begged.

I took a deep breath as I completely got out of the restroom.

"You could've dressed before coming out of the bathroom."

I glared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, next time I'll be cautious enough to consider that an ass-hole might be sitting on my bed," I retorted as I sat down next to him.

I noticed he was blushing and didn't meet my eyes.

"It's not like you actually— saw anything," I mumbled.

When he didn't answer, I simply rolled my eyes. "How did you know I was awake at this time?"

He shrugged. "I didn't."

I stared at him. "Killua?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you watch me sleep?"

"No, I listen to you talk in your sleep," he clarified, as if that was so much more acceptable.

I gaped at him. "Honestly? That's the creepiest thing that I've ever heard."

"Well, mostly, you're just saying random things I have no idea about but lately you talk about me a lot; I wonder what sort of weird dreams you have."

"What the—" I face-palmed. "Okay, you know what? I'm locking my window before going to bed from now on."

He took my hand and pulled me closer. "Why don't you just say it," he asked moving his lips to my neck.

"Say what?" I asked placing the back of my head on his shoulder.

"That you're so obsessed, you've even started dreaming about me."

I just rolled my eyes, shifting my wet hair to a side as he lifted my shirt from my shoulder and started kissing down the length of my arm. "I was high last night, so it was acceptable to dream about strange things like you."

"High is an understatement." He turned me around and pushed me back until he was on top of me, both his hands on the side of my face.

I sighed, recalling the glimpses of the previous night that were in my memory. "Does Gon hate me?"

He put his lips on mine and I felt the grin he was suppressing.

"I didn't mean it," I defended, kicking his knee when he chuckled. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything and he's Gon, you know he can't hate anyone."

"I still feel—" I started confessing when the door suddenly opened and my mom entered.

"Honey—" she began, but she stopped at mid-syllable when she saw the position we both were in.

Killua and I straightened immediately and I removed my dripping hair from one side of my face.

"I heard— you were awake so I thought— breakfast," she concluded, walking out.

We both sighed as she left.

Killua got off the bed and put on his shoes.

"You're not staying?"

He shook his head. "I have a group assignment that, unfortunately, I can't put off any longer."

"Oh, well— I'm going to school tomorrow too," I announced as I fidgeted with my fingers.

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded. "I'll try to do some catching up today."

He got down on his knee and pecked my lips twice. "That's great," he encouraged, smiling that crooked smile that always had me holding my breath.

After he jumped out the window, I pulled on some sweats and walked downstairs where my mom was checking her e-mails with a coffee mug in her hand.

I grabbed my usual cereal and sat down on the couch beside her. Since my mom hadn't started talking yet, I knew there was something serious she wanted to say. I concentrated on chewing, knowing that she would get to it soon enough.

"Claire," she addressed after a few minutes.

"Yeah?" I answered as casually as possible.

"Honey," she paused as if to find the right words. "Were you drunk last night?" she inquired.

My eyes widened as I shifted my legs.

"I heard you shout outside and I saw Killua with you."

I bit my lip, looking down.

"Honey, I know you're a teenager and you know that I've never set any rules or limitations for you; it's okay to be reckless at you age and—" she stuttered. "I know you've always been very responsible, I mean— I'm always there for you, open to hearing whatever you have to say. I was a very irresponsible teenager and I'll admit I've done things I still regret and—you're nothing like me, I know but— what I'm trying to say is, take it slowly and safely— do you really wanna hand up having children at this age? Things seem a lot..." she continued.

I coughed as I choked on my food. "What?" I asked, astonished, as I caught my breath. "Mom, are you giving me the safe-sex lecture?"

"Well, I don't—"

"No, no, no, no, no." I gestured with one hand. "You don't have to worry because nothing like that has happened, neither dangerous nor safe," I clarified.

"I know, you both— wait, what?" she demanded with her eyes wide-open.

I took a deep breath. I was so glad in that moment that Killua had decided to leave, I dreaded just the thought of his reaction to all of this. "Mom, I'm a virgin," I emphasized.

She blinked. "But—you two, you've been together for— so many months and you're always like—"

"We're always like what?"

She crossed her fingers together. "Like this." She sounded genuinely surprised.

I rolled my eyes. "Now that's a bit of an exaggeration mom—"

"Claire, have you seen the way you two even sit together?"

"What way?"

"You always have one leg over his and he has his hand placed on your knee, even when you're both on your phones. It's like you have this insane need to touch each other even when you're not aware of it—I thought, wow." She shook her head a little.

I sighed, suddenly losing my appetite. "Killua's not— like that, it isn't like that—yet," I mumbled, recalling his words from the Homecoming night.

"You know you can always talk to me, right?" she added giving me a gentle smile. "About anything."

I knew exactly where she was going now; lately, trying to get me to talk it out was the only thing everyone around me was trying to do. Natasha had me talking nonsense for two hours daily, my nonna called every now and then to have me talk about just anything at all. Mr. Domoto showed up last week asking me to take a walk around the block and even he, who sucked with words, tried his best to have forced conversations until I fell on the pavement and grazed my elbow; that shut him up for good, he knew it was his fault: he had me walking and talking at the same time.

The only person that didn't have to push me to talk was Killua, of course with him with mouth automatically set on the first gear, honestly I couldn't recognize myself when I was with him. My mom always made sure we had every meal together so that she could catch up on whatever I was going through.

I couldn't help the small smile that crept on my face, along with a feeling of utter disgust for myself. Every individual in my life right now was making me their priority, including myself.

"Claire, are you crying?" my mom asked, surprised.

I blinked, feeling my wet eyelashes, and rubbed my palm over cheek unable to help the nervous laugh that followed. "How do you do it, mom? How do you cope with me?"

"What are you talking about?" She took my hand. "You know you're the best anyone could ask for."

"I'm not," I said as fresh tears fell down, I couldn't stop beaming for some reason. "That's the thing mom, I'm not." I shook my head. "What have you not given me? I have your support in all the ways there are, I've always gotten whatever I've asked for, you and dad have always put me first, and despite all that, if I—I'm not doing stuff I'm not supposed to do, that doesn't make me great, it makes me average," I admitted. "I'm as average as average gets."

She shook her head. "Honey—"

"You know what the problem with me is? I think other people don't have feelings, I'm always the victim," I chortled, rubbing my forehead. "I'm a jerk and you should stop telling me otherwise. I've done all the crying and talking I needed to get it all out of my system, now all I need to do is listen. It's your turn to talk mom, because if I'm hurting like hell then I don't wanna imagine what you're holding in."

Silent tears fell on her face as she covered it, sobbing.

I pressed my face to her hand.

"I met your dad when I was sixteen," she disclosed with her trembling voice. "He hit me on the face with a basketball during gym class by accident, I hated him so damn much," she laughed in a hoarse whisper. "I used to glare at him in the halls every day when we passed by each other and I don't have any idea how or when I fell for him. We were complete opposites, he was such a nerd but there was just something about him I— I never felt like that before with any guy." She closed her eyes and gave me a sad smile. "That idiot," she said to herself. "You know, I knew when he was about to propose and I had perfectly prepared my reaction but he choked on his drink and it all went wrong— I had to complete his words for him, it was the most disastrous thing ever, but for some reason I knew in that moment that I was never letting go of him, ever." She paused and wiped her face with her hands. "He was so happy the day you came home and—he was so happy when we found out about this baby, but— he'll never get to see it—" her voice broke and she paused to take a deep breath. "So, no." She shook her head. "You're not average Claire." She placed both of her hands on my shoulders. "You are your father's daughter and you are just like him and your father wasn't average, he was extraordinary." She took a deep breath. "And so are you."

Killua's P.O.V:-

For the past half an hour, I had been impatiently tapping my fingers on the table. I looked over at Gon who sat with his head in his hands, his eyes shut in frustration. I removed my glasses and lightly rubbed my forehead with my fingers before putting them back in place. Unable to resist any longer, I spared a glance at the dark-haired girl sitting on the chair beside me, she had been constantly talking from the moment she had walked in. Of all the people that we could have been partnered up with, she had to be the one.

"Hey— listen, Dora," I interrupted her, waving my hand.

She pursed her lips and shot me a curious glance. "Nora," she corrected.

I cleared my throat. "Right— uh— you know we're here to do an assignment not to launch a gossip website," I reminded her as politely as I could; she was Claire's friend after all, even though I couldn't seem to relate how these two could ever get along.

She blinked at me and then peeked at Gon, who hadn't shifted his position and didn't seem to be breathing. "What's wrong with him?" she demanded.

I gazed at him for a minute. "You alive?" I asked patting the side of his shoulder.

He slowly raised his head and stared at me. "I'm going to fail Calculus this term," he announced.

I rolled my eyes. "You'll get a passing grade," I assured him.

One of his eyes slightly twitched. "I barely attempted any of the questions in the exam."

I opened my mouth to say something consoling, then just shut it again.

"Well you could always ask Claire to change your grades," casually suggested the girl in her squeaky voice as she flipped through the pages of the book in her hand.

"What?" Gon and I asked simultaneously.

She looked between the both of us. "So, you guys seriously don't know?"

"Know what?"

She fakely widened her eyes and then smirked, shifting her position. I could tell she had gone on her full-on gossip mode now. "Okay, get this," she unnecessarily stressed on the words, moving her hand sideways. "Last year, I saw Claire sneaking outside the surveillance room with her laptop," she paused, trying to create suspense. "She totally freaked out when I caught her; well, turns out she got into the school database and changed her geometry grades."

"That's impossible," I retorted. "Grading is done by people, not computers."

"That's what I said, but according to her there are like— I don't know, on average above two hundred students per subject and she said nobody would have a clue. Besides, since all the records are computerized and all the grades displayed on the school website, so she just, like— got in."

I exchanged a glance with Gon.

"She made me swear not to tell anyone and in return I have her give me a little boost in the subjects I suck at," she concluded.

"So, basically, you blackmail her?" I asked, giving her a sarcastic look.

"Well— when you say like that— yeah, I guess," she declared proudly.

"Thanks," Gon murmured. "But I'd rather do it the right way," he said scratching his head and went towards the kitchen.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged and then diverted her attention towards me. "Speaking of Claire, is it true that she isn't mentally stable enough to attend school anymore?"

My jaw clenched and I instantly shot her a glare.

Her eyes slightly widened as her body slightly arched back. "It's— getting late, we can do the rest of the assignment— "

"Leave," I simply ordered taking off my glasses.

I heard the door open and then shut as I sighed; walking to the kitchen, I leaned against the door. "You, me," I said pointing between me and Gon. "Skipping school tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Are we having one of your chocolate restock trips from York New?"

"No, although that needs to be planned," I considered. "I got the keys and I wanted to check out that old man's place tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "The sooner, the better."

He sighed. "Thanks, Killua, for everything. I know there are places you'd rather be and things you'd rather do."

I scowled at him. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be doing exactly what I'm supposed to do and if you ever say that again, I will break your face until it is reduced to the size of a walnut, understood?"

He grinned at me and I couldn't help but smile back. "Let's just hope we find something," he mused while opening the door of the fridge.

I leaned my head against the wall and glanced at the ceiling. "Let's hope."

Claire's P.O.V:-

I kicked the calculus book next to me off the bed and shifted my legs, reaching for my laptop. Okay, so dodging school for over a month wasn't one of the smartest decisions I had ever made and I was going to need some serious extra credit to get through this one. The other subjects weren't much of a problem except geometry— maybe I could get Killua to help me out in that one.

I rubbed my eyes and clicked on the search engine. I stared blankly at the screen, I seemed to have forgotten what I was about to do; I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, I knew what my mind was delaying: since the past few months, what I hadn't dared to do was actually search the details of the massacre in the auction for myself and I somehow felt that until I didn't know about the whole thing I couldn't bring myself to accept it and then put it behind me.

Without further thought, I quickly typed 'York New auction holocaust', since that was what it had been labeled as in the news. Carefully going through the links, I paused at an article; the first image of the rumbles of the previously enormous edifice had me holding my breath. I shut my eyelids before finally mustering some courage again and scrolled lower. I rapidly skipped through the pictures of the injured and the few bodies that had been retrieved.

Stopping at the starting lines of the feature, I read through the main details. A day of great misery for— The suffering of— A bloodbath— According to investigation reports, explosives had been previously planted all over the area— It is yet unknown who the Zoldycks were hired by— Sources reveal warnings had been given after multiple threats which had been thought to be false at the time.

I leaned my head against the headboard and drew in a breath. I had no idea what I was trying to obtain by this. I reached the end of the page, scanning the last few parts. The Vortex has promised aid to the affected families. The security and safety of the succeeding event, which has been confirmed, has been marked a top priority.

At the bottom, there was a photograph of two men in suits alongside a woman in a long red dress, smiling gently. I jerked back so fast, I seemed to have lost control of my hands. The blonde lady with her eyes on the lens, the woman who had haunted my nightmares for the past seven years was staring intently at me. The small bar below describing the names of the trio, but the sole inscription that caught and held my eye was the last one, the two bold words molding the name Ingrid Maslen.

In that one second, each and every part of my life seemed to be rushing in through my pores; I only felt the cold sweat on my hands when I brought the cursor closer, almost intending to click it. My thumb twitched as I heard the window slide open. Stopping at mid-breath, I immediately slammed my laptop shut.

"What are you doing?" Killua whispered in my ear and I almost threw myself off the bed as a reflex until he caught my arm.

I stared at him wide-eyed, my breath hitching. "Nothing," I answered a bit too late and a bit too loud.

"Are you okay?" he asked, touching the back of his hand to my forehead. "You're sweating."

I shook my head and grabbed the laptop, placing it on the side-table. "You just—" I halted, taking a deep breath. "You scared me," I mumbled.

He kept looking at me for a moment until he threw his head back on the pillow and took out his mobile.

I heaved a huge sigh of relief and stood up. I forced my mind to push back all the unnecessary things for now and focus on him—which was also not a very good idea since it had me replaying my mom's words in my head: "But—you two, you've been together for— so many months and you're always like—"

I groaned, as I involuntarily punched the desk in frustration.

Killua raised his gaze. "What's wrong?" he called.

"Uh—nothing, I just— bit my tongue," I lied.

I exhaled when he didn't reply any further and rubbed my sweaty palms over my shirt. I needed to stop thinking about this, I needed to stop pressurizing myself over what I knew I wasn't ready for. But thinking about it—

"What's wrong with you?" Killua demanded, lifting my chin up and gazing into my eyes.

"God," I breathed. "Stop freaking me out— I'm perfectly fine," I assured, gesturing with my hands.

"Are you PMS-ing? Your face is burning."

"What? No!" I heaved a sigh.

He sat back down on the bed, still staring firmly at me. "If something's bothering you, you wanna talk about it?" he offered, concern deep in his observance.

Considering the mental conflict that was killing me, I was desperate to talk— but to anyone other than him. Out of all the people that I knew, he was the easiest to confess to, simply because he took an interest in whatever I said. Killua and I had been together for nearly four months and all the effort had been from his side. Even besides the fact that I was a disaster for the past few months, there was no doubt he was the one who had been giving, cleaning up all the mess I left behind and then easily pretending that it never happened. Fuck me, though.

I suspired and then relaxed my shoulders, walking to the bed and wrapping myself around him.

He embraced me back, seating me on his lap and placed his chin on my shoulder; I could feel his gentle breathing.

"Are you having a crappy day too?" I mumbled, closing my eyes, taking in that dreamy scent of his.

"Hmm," he mused. "Depends on what sort of day qualifies to be called crappy by you."

"One of those 'fourteen hours without you' days."

He shook, chuckling lightly. "Our definitions coincide."

I smiled against his neck.

"Did you just need a hug?" he questioned, playing with a lock of my hair.

"I guess." I contemplated my options: either I would overthink this or I would go through with it and if the later, I knew I had to get this right in one shot, either words or action. "I want something," I disclosed, halting at mid-thought.

"Anything," he answered back in the same instant. "Name it, it's yours."

"Do you promise?" Was I seriously trying to trap him in his own words? Trying to beat him at his own game? I knew well that it was utterly idiotic, but since I lacked tactic, this was all I had.

The words finally had him alerted. He shifted his position, pushing me from his lap so he could clearly meet my sight. "Tell me."

I couldn't help but fidget with my fingers, he was serious now and I knew he wouldn't let go of it even if I tried to wave it off now.

"Claire?" he addressed, his voice very intense.

"I want— I mean—"

"I'm listening," he encouraged.

I was giving myself a headache. "You," I stated, keeping my voice steady.

He raised an eyebrow. "You, what?" he further questioned. "I'd appreciate it if you'd be a bit clearer, you know."

I uncomfortably switched my position and leaned forward to kiss him, he answered back willingly, but I could tell his thoughts were still stuck to my words.

I pulled him closer, held him tighter; I could already picture his reaction. "Damn it," I cursed, biting my lip and drawing back.

"What is it?" he asked, confused. "Claire, for heaven's sake, you're making me worry," he said, ultimately losing his patience.

"You! I want you Killua," I burst out, staring right at him.

The flat out 'no' that I was expecting to hear, didn't come. Instead, his eyes widened slightly as he processed the words and a deep pink hue burned his face for a few seconds. He just gaped at me and then shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about," he attempted to chuckle but ended up clearing his throat.

"I'm serious," I informed him.

He shut his eyes and scratched his head. "Claire, listen, I know you probably just—"

"No," I interjected. "You listen, I know; I've been giving you hell for the past three months and all I wanna do is make it up to you— I seriously want this."

He gave me a look of surprise and then blinked. "You— you don't have to make anything up to me, especially not—" he stopped, lacking words.

I couldn't explain what I was feeling at the thought of actually being able of making a guy like him stutter and blush in the matter of a few minutes. I bit the inside of my cheek. "I really want you, Killua, don't you want me?" I asked, reducing the space between us.

"I— I—" he stammered.

A feeling of victory rushed through my veins, knowing I was holding my own for at least the night.

As soon as I held on to his collar, planning on opening the first button, he grabbed my wrists and had me pinned down.

When our gazes met, I saw the determination he always had, restored and boosted. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Not yet," he declared with finality.

I opened my mouth to argue, but at he was already off the bed and, in a matter of seconds, standing by the window.

"I've already set your alarm for tomorrow morning, I won't be able to come by," he casually announced, fixing the collar of his shirt as he shrugged. Opening the window pane, he paused for a moment. "Oh, and call me as soon as the sexual tension breaks off," he suggested before disappearing in an instant.

Killua's P.O.V:-

"Out of all the days you could've gone out of town, you choose the one when I restarted school after over a month," asserted Claire from the other line, her voice incredibly firm. "And especially with rumours circling around that I've reached insanity."

I gestured for Gon to take a left as we drove past the main road, a grin plastered on his face because he was the one who got to drive this time. "Relax," I advised. "It's just a few more hours. Tomorrow, I'll be with you and I will deal with everyone myself."

She sighed and didn't answer for a few seconds. "I'm not a kid, I don't need you fight my fights for me."

I rolled my eyes. "You're hiding in the janitor's closet, aren't you?"

"What? No— No I'm not," she lied nervously.

"Get out of there, no one's gonna kill you."

"I'd rather die and not be found," she says in a muffled voice. "And seriously, I hate you— I have like ten more minutes of break time before I go back outside to people gaping at me and telling me how sorry they are." She sighed. "I can't stand it."

"Or maybe, you're just telling yourself that because you can't admit that you miss me," I teased. Gon parked the car right in front of the flat and killed the engine.

"God, for all the levels of jerk you can reach. You should get a guide on how to be a better boyfriend... or just read Twilight."

"Are you kidding me? Edward Cullen?" I demanded sarcastically.

"That was like the worst side-track ever," she considered. "Forget it. You know what? I miss you Killua."

I drew in a breath, slightly louder than I intended to; Gon waved his hand in front of my face to capture my attention and indicated outside. I nodded and signaled for him to wait. "Really?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as he opened the door and got out. "And what exactly are you missing about me?"

"You seriously want me to set that ego of yours on fire?" she demanded.

"I'm a modest man, but you can try."

I heard her laugh breathlessly. "Okay, well—I'm not gonna be dramatic and say everything but—I miss the way you touch me—and your stupid jokes and—I miss the way you laugh. You know, when you throw your head back and everything—yeah, that." Her voice got lower and lower as she continued to talk.

I couldn't stop the smile that crept on my face. "I'll make today up to you," I promised

"This better be good."

"Dinner, tonight," I stated briefly.

"Too demanding," she huffed. "I just want somewhere with no one but us."

"Tell you what, we'll hit the drive through and I'll take you anywhere you want."

She took a calm breath. "Will you kiss me?"

"I'll do anything you want," I guaranteed. "Listen, about yesterday—" I commenced.

"N—no," she interrupted immediately. "I wasn't in my senses yesterday, okay?"

Gon tapped the glass and I raised a finger with an apologetic expression. "No, you were right, if you really want this, then—"

"No, I—no—I—Killua, I wasn't thinking and I'm not ready for that, really."

I bit my lip, trying to keep my tone serious. "Oh, I could still give it to you, you know, without hitting Home Run," I goaded.

She gasped loudly and I could almost see her expression. "Shut up, idiot," she whisper-shouted and hung up; I ran a hand through my hair and chuckled, oblivious to the fact that it was the last time we would talk like that in quite a while.

Claire's P.O.V:-

Most of my day just consisted of me trying to find places where I wouldn't be seen and receiving a pile of assignments from my teachers for all the time I had wasted, how I would get all of that done in just a few days was still something I was working on. The hours dragged forward and finally when the bell rang and I thought I would be free to rush home, it started raining and when I went to my locker to retrieve my umbrella, I found out that the combination had been changed— this day just couldn't get any better.

I sat outside on the pavement, trying to reach my mom, but she wasn't picking up. I sighed and decided to just wait until the weather got better, which honestly just seemed to be getting worse by the second; my luck was at its zenith today. In the middle of my evaluating on how today could actually reach an even worse degree, I sneezed. The last thing I needed right now was to catch a cold.

I turned around, planning on waiting in the library when I caught sight of the green-eyed man staring amusedly at me.

"It is you," he affirmed. "I thought you looked familiar."

I blinked at him. "Um I—" I stammered as I stood up.

"How are you?" he asked. "It's been a while." My calculus teacher smiled at me, it was the same sad smile Killua had sometimes.

"I'm—I'm okay—I was uh—planning on seeing you to talk about the classes I—"

He placed a hand on my shoulder, I halted, waiting for him to say the words I had been hearing repeatedly all morning. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry," he notified me.

I looked up at him, he was an inch or two shorter than Killua. "You're not?" I demanded, stupefied.

"Will it make you feel better?"

I sighed and shook my head.

He looked around. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"You should come to my house," he suggested. "It's close by, you could wait there."

"What? No—it's fine, really."

"We can discuss how you are going to recover your grades," he proposed.

"Actually—"

"I insist," he further pressed.

Having no choice, I decided to give up. "Uh—Alright." I shrugged.

He thrust his umbrella open and waited for me to join him.

For some reason I couldn't comprehend at the time, I looked behind me, feeling a chill in my spine; shaking off the weird feeling, I dug my hands in my pockets and followed him, the sound of water splashing behind me as I walked, not knowing that this was one of the worst decisions I ever made.

Walking towards a path, truly an abyss

oblivious to the darkness that it holds within.