This story is now officially two years old and I'm freaking out because I can never commit to anything—ever; considering that, I'm only a chapter behind of how many I should've posted up till now and that's not too bad, right? So, YAY.
I know all I do is rant and chant an infinite amount of thank yous but I can't help it, I'm just so so grateful to all of you. Shout out to Lani for putting up with my unpredictable and shitty updating schedules, you're a hero.
A small spoiler: I'm very close to wrapping up the first part of this story, but until then you guys have to tolerate me and my criminal tendencies that hustle me to add lots and lots of suffering to the lives of the characters in this story. But is all of this redeemed by the fact that this is the longest chapter I've ever written? Let's find out; dig in!
Chapter: 23
"Arcane."
The susurration that was constantly drumming in my ears as I was slouched on my seat in the auditorium, made me feel a type of discontent I wasn't fully able to describe. With a final defeated sigh, I straightened my shoulders and shrugged on the hideous blue gown.
My eyes scruntinised the whole setting as I decided to give a slight tousle to the uglifying cap perched on my head. I felt a nudge on my arm and peered at Gon from the corner of my eye.
"You can at least pretend to look excited," he instructed, looking right ahead, towards the stage.
I pursed my lips and reatreating, cast him a full glance. His body was so rigid, it was hard to tell whether he was breathing or not. "You're one to give advice," I mused. "Sitting stiff like a holy virgin about to have his first kiss."
He at last, turned his head in my direction and threw me a sarcastic look.
I couldn't help the simper that tugged at my lips. "Did I accidentally recount something based on true events?" I teased.
"You know I like to—take things slow," he defended nervously. "I prefer to be—sure about things."
I snorted looking away. "Yeah, keep that dick nice and safe til it withers," I commented, patting his knee as I stared around through the endless ocean of blue that flowed around me.
He squinted at me. "Well, at least, I'm not lurking like a coward unable to reach out to the girl that I'm basically dying for like a hooligan nun. Oh, and as a bonus, I'm definitely not pretending that I'm not raking the whole place for her," he countered shifting his eyes back front.
I gaped at him, taking several seconds to recompose my features as to appear unaffected. "Firstly, here's a prayer," I remarked giving him the middle finger. "And secondly, her name is tagged on that seat," I informed, pointing towards the space next to me with my thumb. "And having a full attendance is everyone's concern on commencement."
He didn't meet my eyes this time, instead just kept as errect as a sculpture. "Well, you don't have to worry, she'll be easy enough to spot."
"What are you talking about?" I asked addled with the noise around me.
But before he had the chance to answer me, the seemingly limitless commotion in the hall died away after the authorotative instructions to settle down were given.
I kept decrying at the empty seat next to me as the event proceeded through the initial senseless declaims. Risking a look at the end of the chamber, I tried to scan through the rows of families to catch sight of hers but I froze in the middle of the act when I clearly believed to have heard Claire's name being announced in the assembly.
The applause that followed the declaration claiming her as the valedictorian, made me become even more aware of the sudden sweat on my hands. "No fucking way," I breathed out. I didn't know whether I was more concerned about the fact that she would pass out right in the middle of that stage with no assistance or that she would most probably make a leap for it and trip.
Regardless of the myriads and myriads of scenarios that wrested at my mind, the dainty figure that made her appearance, submerged in the flowing blue gown, held an expression that was nowhere near anxious or tense; on the other hand, if I wasn't mistaken, she seemed icredibly—relaxed.
With absolute aplomb, she tapped the microphone a few times with the tips of her fingers and drew back, unfolding a middling parchment in her hands. Then, her eyes swiftly sweeped through the entire audience before her. "Good evening esteemed members of the faculty and families of my fellow graduates," she welcomed with a gentle smile. "It's truly an honour to be standing up here and having the chance to voice my thoughts." Giving a slight peek to the piece of paper in her hand, she held it up with an impish look. "I have this pre-written speech that Mr. Isawa was so kind to compile for me," she declared, gesturing towards the front row, where I guessed the man himself was seated. "But it's lengthy, it's lame and I don't think anybody here would have the patience to hear me rant about the character-developing education system that we're blessed with, without going into a coma. So, I'm not going to be reading it, because I don't want to be a criminal before I even graduate."
The ripple of laughter that followed her unbelievable words, made me conscious of the strength with which one of my hands had been gripping the handle of the seat.
Her face acquired an unpretentious aspect as she fisted the page in her hand and faced the eyes in front of here with no hesitation. "Today is not the day to read what's already been written down for you; we're not following a script today— we're making one. But most importantly, we're making history." Her equanimous utterence marked an utter silence around, the only sound that preceeded, was the echo of her intake of breath. "Just about everyday of our lives is composed of a consecutive track where we walk around thinking that we've reached the peak of wisdom and the reason why no one gets us is because we're too smart for our own good. We judge others like they're objects and drain ourselves like we're syringes; ultimately, what we inject into other people's system is what we find running through ours—that's Karma, and it hits back really hard," she divulged with a firm gaze, almost looking like her mind was else where. "We're stressing on careers, finding the right professions, hunting down a job but how about we take a map and search through ourselves? How about we find ourselves instead of finding ways to blame ourselves? How about we make mistakes and accept them and focus on us instead of getting the perfect grades, because I don't think chanting the pythagorean theorem or calculating the angle of elevation or the anatomy of a leaf is ever going to help me out of a stressful situation," she revealed, her sight darting with fierceness. "Because life sucks, but it's pretty magical too. You have losses and gains—people who were just strangers last year and right now, they're holding you together. Then, people you thought would be there forever and they're just—" The flow of her speech broke for an instant before she recuperated it. "—not."
For a vulnerable moment, I could almost see her thoughts, reflected like glass in the surface of her eyes.
"But I think it's the unpredictability and the serendipity that makes everything worth a shot—what makes life valuable is that it ends," she unraveled with assurance. "So, here's my advice for you: let it go," she stressed, breaking down each word. "—the pressure. Go to college, feel infinite. Don't live everyday like it's your last, that's horrible; to exist with fear and insecurity. Live everyday as it is: knowing that you get only one chance at whatever you do, and knowing that possibilities are endless," she emphasised.
In the next instant, she was unmistakably looking into my eyes as she spoke: "Nobody has any idea when they're going to end up dead and even if they reach the extreme, it's still a pretty short life." She shrugged with a gleam in her irises. "So, what we do is make memories—seize the moment, because what better way is there to live?" she concluded, tantalising an enormous wave of accalamations in the form of plaudits. The surge of the crowd was so instantaneous, it almost seemed reflexive.
"Thank you—thank you so much," she voiced, now appearing over-whelmed by the energy she had aroused. "This has truly been a life-changing year." With these words enounced, she at last descended the platform with a final wave. I couldn't believe my eyes, but mostly, I couldn't believe her.
My stunned gaze followed her magnetically as she made her way through the array, seeming slightly more conscious and bewildered as people actually rose and shook hands with her. Escorting her nervous promenade with my eyes, it almost appeared as if her prior confidence was the result of an incantation that was now gradually wearing off.
Eventually, she carefully passed through the row I was settled in and plopped down in the vacant seat next to mine. For several seconds, she appeared lost, having no clear idea of her surroundings until her gaze transfered up to me.
"Aha," she mused. "Who's snooping now?"
I arched an eyebrow at her. "We have alphabetically successive surnames," I notified, because she genuinely looked like she believed her own words.
Her eyes narrowed as she opened her mouth to oppose. "You mean your fake surname; if you used the sturdy one, you'd be way back there," she stressed in a dappy manner, gesturing towards the final lines.
I cast her a chary look before taking her arm and shifting her position so I could clearly see her eyes, and doubtlessly, there was something very hazy and off about them.
I face-palmed and sighed, but the sound was mantelled by the clamorous proceedings of the ceremony. "Jesus fucking Christ—you did not."
"What—what's going on?" she demanded hesitantly.
"You drugged yourself, that's what's going on," I clarified through gritted teeth.
Her lips slightly trembled and she shook her head. "No—no I didn't," she refused in a slightly hysteric way.
"I should've known," I contemplated in a sceptical tone. "What did you take?"
"I didn't—" she began but my glare was quick to make her rephrase her words. "Just a tranquiliser—I—I would've puked right in front of the whole—" she broke off when her last word became incomprehensible.
"You're drooling," I asserted as she began rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. "Did you over-dose?"
"No, they were in my prescription," she lied as I took out a tissue from my pocket and wiped her jaw.
"You don't have a prescription, Claire, not since six months ago," I apprised. "I know you think you're so smart and coming up with solutions but how did that clever little brain of yours plan on proceeding through the rest of the event? Especially, when I think you might be aware of the fact that you are required to walk up that platform," I instructed, indicating the whole path with my eyes. "And receive your diploma. Oh, and fun fact, you're supposed to do it without slobbering like a wet seal."
Her face went blank and then acquired a terrified guise as her eyes trailed upwards. "You're seeing the flying retriever too, right?" she demanded, her mouth dropping to her feet.
I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips, my shut eye lids shaking with impatience and disbelief.
"Help me," she squeaked, supporting her head with her hand like it would fall off anytime.
"What do you want me to do? Take you out?" Her perplexed sight forced me to reshape my sentence. "The assassin way," I added.
"That's not comforting," she slurred.
I exhaled deeply and removed the locks of her hair from the side of her neck. "Close your eyes then."
Claire's P.O.V:-
The first thing my mind registered, before I even opened my eyes, was the familiar smell of air-freshener muddled with cigarette smoke that already painted a clear enough picture of my surrounding in my brain.
I peeked at the driver's seat of Killua's car through my eyelashes, only to find it unoccupied. My head felt incredibly heavy as I lifted it up and opened the door.
I pulled at the lapels of the ugly graduation gown around me as a chilly night breeze made me tremble. "Where are we?" I mumbled, walking towards Killua, who was perched on the bonnet with a cigartte in his hand.
"Away," he answered simply and in his voice, it somehow seemed such a glorious word.
After a few intricate seconds, my addled mind processed the cluster of lights thrown out below us. It almost seemed as if it was a mirror, reflecting every star symetrically. "Our place," I identified, my gaze swiping through the dark hill.
"I like that," he remarked, still looking right ahead.
A small smile made its way to my lips. "Why here?" I asked as he helped me sit next to him on the hood.
"Well, why not?" he countered, tapping the back of the cigarette with his thumb. The dying ashes that fell seemed to be quoting something beyond literal. "You know, I was thinking," he revealed. "They should have categories, like a—sort of spectrum: dumb, stupid, idiotic, insane, Claire," he listed casually.
I rolled my eyes. "Did you knock me out?"
He threw the cigarette away and lied against the windshield with his arms crossed behind his neck. "Absolutely."
"Okay, what's our alibi?" I demanded.
"You fainted and you're in the infirmary."
"Well, I could've pretended to have passed out, there was no need to go all ninja on me; and why am I not in the infirmary?"
"Firstly, I don't think you were aware of it, but there were very inhumane noises coming out of your throat, you know like those growling puppies? So, I think that marked away the chances of you delivering a good act. Secondly, if you really were in the infirmary, you'd be in big trouble, since it's not that hard to identify a stoned psycho anymore," he explicated. "And thirdly, you're welcome."
"Did I really miss my graduation?" I debriefed, idly passing a hand through his hair.
"Technically, no." He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch before speaking further. "It's only been ten minutes since I drove you away so, we still have about half an hour before the actual thing ends; but you did miss the chance of getting a diploma and shaking a hoardy man's hand."
I leaned my head back, but before my head made contact with the surface, he wedged his arm inbetween.
"It's not as comfortable as it looks," he informed subtly.
I could only answer with silence. It was so hard to decribe emotions when he was nearby.
"I have a question," he announced as I scooted past his elbow.
"Fire away," I invited.
"Who was that wise man you quoted that last speech paragraph from?" he debriefed, his voice saturated with smugness.
"I should've known you would never that one slide, and for the record, I wasn't totally conscious of my words," I defended.
He remained silent for a minute as he was taking in my words."Speaking of that, the whole thing was pretty—" he halted, choosing the appropriate word. "Amazing," he concluded with a shrug.
I just stared at him before nervously passing a hand through my hair. "I—I just had to summarise everything I learned in the past year," I confessed with a sigh. "And most of it—was from you— even though you're the living represenatation of an asshole," I appendaged on seeing the way his eyebrows were shooting up.
"I didn't know you looked up to me that much," he bragged, ignoring my last addition. "I mean, I know I'm marvellous and everything but—"
I put my palm on his mouth before he could continue further. "There are so many better things that mouth can be used for," I stated before freezing in place as I realised what I had actually said.
He removed my hand and didn't even attempt to hide his shameless grin. "I did not see that coming from you."
"It's only as dirty as your mind," I replied, failing to appear unaffected.
He rolled his eyes and pulled out his cell-phone. "Anyway," he emphasised, tapping multiple times on the screen before holding it up. "Check this out. You can look at your stupid constellations without stressing your little mind."
I took it from him and scrolled through the content and sat up abruptly. "You downloaded a star-gazing app." I stared at him in amazement.
"Yeah." He shrugged. "You're crazy about this stuff."
"Yeah, but you hate it," I reminded.
"So?" he asked in confusion like his opinion was the least of his concerns.
It took me several seconds before I could close my speechless mouth and hand him back his phone. "Can I have a concession?"
He arched an eyebrow. "For what?"
"Tonight—right now," I resolved, taking his arm and forcing him to shift into a sitting position.
"What?" he demanded, muddled.
"Even though I wasn't really looking forward to it, tonight was supposed to be a big deal for me— I pretty much fucked it up—but I do want to have something to remember it by," I explicated, lifting up on my knees to level with him. "I know I'm basically stepping on everything I said last time but, forget this," I exhorted before leaning in and locking my lips with his. I must've caught him so off guard, he reflexively caught my arms and held me tighter and unlike the last time such a situation took place, he answered back and so passionately, I had to break off to catch my breath but I immediately pulled him back in as soon as I could make sense of my actions.
I didn't even know how he did it, but without pulling away, he slid off the bonnet and lowered me to stand in the middle of his legs.
Right then, my God damned mobile began buzzing in my pocket, but right now it was honestly the last thing on my mind.
"Your phone," he notified as he drew back, pulling it out for me.
"Throw it away," I ordered, gripping at his shirt and tilting his head back down.
"It's your mom, she's gonna be worried," he convinced separating our mouths once again.
With my mind gradually clearing, I processed his words and gave up with a sigh. "Uh—yeah," I agreed, taking my mobile from him and rubbing my face in embarrassment.
He surveyed my expression intricately until he eventually drew closer and delivered one final peck on my lips.
I just gaped at him dumbfounded.
"What? It's my graduation too," he prompted. "We're supposed to forget this, right?" He asked, taking a step back.
I blinked, not being able to recall how to use my vocal apparatus. "Yeah—yes—this never happened," I assured, trying to bury the sudden lump in throat.
"Good," he replied as he walked towards the driver's seat.
"Great," I fortified, clearing my throat.
"Yeah," he added with the sound of a door shutting.
"Yeah," I concluded with the depth of my heart sinking, and somehow it felt like he had slammed a door in my face again.
"Who ever has even thought of running away from their graduation?" my mom interrogated as she finished the last touches with my hair.
"I didn't run away," I objected looking up from my phone, shifting my legs on the couch.
"Then where were you?" she challenged, sneakily moving forward until she over-shadowed me.
I considered my answer several times before coming up with shit. "Away," I replied simply.
She sighed. "Sit straight, you'll get a crease on that dress, and I am considering introducing grounding as a thing in this house," she warned as she picked up a perky Katie from her baby seat.
"Let it go mom," I advised as I gently traced Katie's bald little head and held out my finger which she caught with no hinderance. "It was a whole day ago."
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Honestly, I wish Karen would've stayed a little longer, I don't know how to deal with two stubborn girls by myself," she voiced as Katie now extended her tiny hand out to me.
I rolled my eyes as I stood up and took the baby from her arms, joundicing in her frilly little shift. "I bet my diploma nonna can't stay away for more than two months."
Katie made her usual move of putting her palm on my cheek and staring straight into my eyes. It was somehow always so penetrating, like she was extracting all my thoughts or trying to convey something. It was something very complex coming from a tiny little thing that couldn't even keep her head straight without leaning on my shoulder.
"You both are adorable," she boasted, ogling at us. "You look beautiful," she complimented me as she marveled the dress.
I glanced down at myself, unable to deny that Mr. Domoto did go all out in picking me a dress for his wedding; it was so opulent, it gave off the impression that I wasn't just a guest but was opposing candidate to the bride herself.
With my free hand, I pulled at the strapless garment, constantly haunted by the thought that it would fall off anytime. Its silvery bodice acquired a delicate white shade as it extended down my waist, parting right at my knee and falling down gracefully around me.
"I can't believe Minoru's getting married," she vented in an emotional voice like she was referring to her third child.
I rolled my eyes for the second time in thirty seconds but little did I know that weeping and drama was the core of weddings. I had to constantly hide my face in embarrassment during my mom's actual crying fits, echoing in the church, when the vows were being taken.
Mr. Domoto himself looked like he was about to choke on his bow tie or most probably, he had just forgotten to breathe. I almost squalled in relief when the main proceeding was over and retreated to a table in the corner of the garden outside the church where the all the decorations had been spread out stupendously.
It was all so delicately enchanting, I seemed to be forgetting my own esse as I keenly watched the numerous shadows shifting back and forth with the music before my eyes, but when my gaze fell upon one particular silver-haired figure casually perched on a seat barely ten steps away from mine, I could recall everything regarding me a little too well.
I hadn't yet decided whether we were pretending not to know each other or ignoring each other's presence or— the way he was now staring at me made me even forget my name, muchless decide a working strategy.
"I'd say you've changed, but that would be a major understatement," remarked an unfamiliarly subtle voice from my side, catching me by surprise.
I shifted my eyes and caught sight of the towering guy in front of me. "Do I know you?" I murmured squinting at him.
He arched an eyebrow and looked at me with incredulity. "Only since you were ten," he answered wittily.
His words made me sctruntinise him with more caution, reverting my full attention from Killua to him, and only then did I realise how attractive the swarthy boy with the familiar green eyes was. My mouth almost fell to my feet. "Caden?"
"Finally," he exhaled, seating himself next to me.
"How—why are you here?" I debriefed in amazement.
He cast me a look of complete disbelief. "You're right, that is a genuine question, considering it's my uncle's wedding," he emphasised.
"Well, well," I stressed oggling at him. "I was kind of hoping boarding school kicked that smug little shit out of your ass, yet here you are," I mused, leaning my chin on my palm.
"Speak for yourself," he countered with an interested expression. "Over-loaded bitchiness and let's not even mention the—" he added raking me from head to toe with a low whistle. "If I knew you'd get this hot, I would've actually paid you some attention."
I could only gape at him with disbelief before I managed to recompose my face. "Shallow as a puddle," I complimented. "That's gotta be a new record."
He chuckled, positioning his arms on the table with an ammused guise. "Everyone's shallow," he revealed. "I just don't hide it, and besides, you're the one who had an extreme crush on me back then."
I scoffed and risked a peek at Killua who wasn't just staring, but he was fully glaring. I tried to push back the gloating sensation that was making its way to my brain. "Yeah, I also made mud pies and ate dirt back then, so..." I shrugged.
His eyes widened with heed. "Impressive," he commented with feeling. "I admit to your sarcastic superiority."
"Who said I was being sarcastic?" I retorted, still spying at Killua with furtive eye movements.
He pursed his lips and his eyebrows shot up. "I like pretty girls with clever mouths," he admitted blatantly after a moment's survey. "How about you tell me more, over a dance?" he invited proficiently.
"How brilliant," I assessed. "But, I don't dance—with idiots," I added to cover up my stupid inability.
"Really? Or is it because you still have the walking grace of a penguin? Because I still remember the time you fell in the sandbox—and the time you tripped on my cat and the time—" he was literally counting on his fingers.
"Okay, okay; I get it, you don't have Alzheimer's, amazing," I interrupted hastily. "I really hoped the atmospheric pressure of Shiroi killed you, but I guess wishes really don't come true."
He laughed a beguiling laugh and his cocky smile revealed a dimple that somehow enhanced his features even more. "Why? Because I'm the living breathing witness of your demeaning childhood?"
I cast him a sceptical look. "Yeah, so I can't make any promises about not wanting to take you out with a shovel and dump you in my trunk."
"Rest assured, my mouth is sealed," he relieved. "Puberty has done you more than just justice, more like the whole law."
I frowned at him. "Is it just the men I know, or is this having shit as an excuse for humour a gender thing?" I voiced out, regressing my scrutiny back to the blue-eyed figure in the back. The task was difficult because I had to pretend to look elsewhere while looking at him as I knew from experience that he had more than just a sharp gaze, and the riotous part was that he was doing that same thing. The hardiness with which his hand was gripping at the table's edge was more than enough evidence for my theory.
"Wh—what?" I asked disoriented as a waving hand blocked my vision line.
"What are you looking at?" Caden asked anomalously as he turned back to see the source of my distraction.
"Nothing—" I divulged, reflexively shifting his face back with my hand. "Nothing—uh—hey, is— the offer for that dance still up?" I blurted out coming up with the most stupid fucking entice I could put myself in.
His eyes broadened with surprise at my unexpected approach. "Absolutely."
"Great," I mumbled forcing a smile and struggling to keep my voice devoid of a sarcastic tone.
I grasped his extended hand, and had barely stood up, grabbing the hems of my dress to avoid a disturbing fall, when Killua's startling figure almost made me fall backwards prior to his swift save as he clasped my wrist and held me straight.
"Killua, what the—" I demanded as soon as my windpipe allowed me an intake of breath.
"I'll take it from here," he cut off forthwith, releasing my other hand and intertwining our fingers.
I stared at him for a moment, simply quivering my lips as a response to his intricate manoeuvre at pretending that the figure next to me didn't even exist. "Can I have just five minutes?" I requested, turning to Caden, whose face was a mixture between confusion and another edge I failed to identify as he gazed at Killua.
He diverted his sight to me and blinked once, looking alternatively at the two of us. "Of course."
I sighed and shook my head, pressing my fingertips to my forehead. "Thanks."
I briefly considered stepping on Killua's shoes as he lead me forward but gave up on the idea when I saw the elusive look on his face as offered me his free hand.
I glared at him as I took it and he placed his other gently around my waist. "How smooth," I commented, putting my hand on his shoulder. "Tell me, on a scale of one to your balls are about to burst, how jealous are you?"
He scoffed, expertly conducting me sideways. "Who am I supposed to be jealous of?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why are you even here?"
"Believe it or not, I was invited," he expounded. "Apparently, your neighbour took a liking in me after the whole hospital charade." His tone as unenthusiastic as if what he did that night wasn't even worth being mentioned. "And I found it rude not to show up."
"Because you're always so polite," I exaggerated, rolling my eyes. "And not barging in, especially inbetween people."
"It's not called barging in," he ammended, lightly pushing me back and spinning me around once before readjusting to our previous position. "This is intervening."
"Intervening?" I repeated, attempting to anticipate the crap he would be coming up with.
"Yeah," he affirmed with an obvious expression. "You have to be cautious about people, like that guy." He gestured with his eyes towards Caden who was clearly surveying us from the table I had left him at.
"Okay," I emphasised with my eyebrows raised. "What is it about him that should be worrying me?" I asked in a preliminary manner.
"Well," he commenced, swaying me to a side, so I could see his indication. "Look at his posture for instance."
"What's wrong with it?" I questioned, actually focusing on his dictate.
"It's slouched, you know what that means?" he probed tentatively.
"Probably that he has a backbone?" I interjected.
"No," he refused immediately. "There's a potential chance that guy is a drug addict, you don't want to have anything to do with a drug addict, do you?"
I suppressed a smile as I examined the seriousness that was dominating his features as he spoke. "I don't know," I contemplated, casting a long and intense look at the subject of our discussion. "I think I can deal with that—I mean, look at him," I mused. "That's the kind of hot you don't let go over some minor flaws—I'd be okay with it even if he was into tap dancing, muchless drugs."
Killua's irises contracted as he focused on my words. "He's not hot," he rejected without consideration. "I don't understand what you're seeing in him, or exactly what you're looking at," he added with a sharper assessment.
"I'm not oggling at his ass," I assured him, feigning a resolute guise. "Although that does sound like a very worthy use of time," I apendaged, holding his shoulder blade tighter.
"Ah, suddenly you're into ass-ogling," he observed as he lowered both his hands to my waist and twirled my fingure until his lips were an inch away from the back of my ear. "And you choose that over what I mantel."
"So, I'm getting a choice now?" I debriefed, taking his hand again and placing my palm over his ribs.
"It was—more of a friendly advice," he quickly reshaped his sentence.
"And suddenly we're friends now?" I questioned further.
"Well, according to your suggestion," he reminded with a tug at his lips.
"There was actually a more appropriate time I made that suggestion," I prompted, casting a glance down at my feet to make sure I wasn't about to step on his. "Right now, you saying this makes you sound like those women who get pregnant and keep stressing on the fact that they're either the next virgin Mary or it must've been something from the pool."
His eyelids fluttered as he tried to hold back a chuckle. "Actually, I reflected on the matter," he revealed, mantaining a rhythm between our motion. "And came to the realise that we were always—friends." He shrugged. The way he said the word was proof enough for the honesty of his declaration.
"We were never friends," I spurned with a scowl. "We're either at each other's throats or in each other's—" I abruptly came to an interlude when I processed what I was about to say.
"Hearts?" he finished for me. "I believe that's what you were about to say?" he probed just as he separated our hands, dropping one of his down to my thigh just as he pulled me closer with a jerky movement and neatly dipped me back; I immediately interlocked my fingers around his neck for support and couldn't help but forget how to breathe registering the minute distance at which his face was from mine.
"It doesn't really matter," I replied hesitantly as he yanked me back up, deciding not to alter the position of my hands regardless of how hard the task was because of his height.
"It does, it matters to me," he affirmed, piercing my gaze with his and that small instant was so baring as it flashed every single moment before me—it was as if the trivialness I had felt myself sink in the previous night, after his touch—after his words, was all revived with a demolishing intensity.
"Killua—stop," I broke off breathlessly suddenly feeling very helpless.
His expression converted instantly on processing my voice. "Claire, are you—"
"No," I terminated immediately. "I—I can't do this anymore." My hands reflexively dropped to my sides before he caught them as if he was preventing me from shattering right there. "Killua, I'm so tired—of everything. Every time that I think I've managed to open a door to you, it just seems to lead to another corridor and—it's draining me. Not having you hurts but having just a part of you hurts even more."
"If it was something I said—" he objected hesitantly.
"It's not what you say and it's not what you do—it's what you feel and who you are, and both of these things stand in such a great opposition to each other that it's poisonous. Killua you're sinking," I confessed feeling my voice break. "And I don't want to go down with you, because if I do stay, you'll sink faster and I'd rather you get a chance to resurface—and because I don't want this—I shouldn't want this. I wanna have a purpose, I wanna have plans. I wanna go to college and feel independent and—see Katie grow and be there for her and take care of my mom and—these are the things that should matter to me." I paused to catch my breath. "I've spent so much time chasing you, I think I forgot that I do exist without you—I can exist without you and I might be a bitch at times but I sure as hell don't deserve this toxic lifestyle I'm settling into, especially when it isn't leading anywhere," I recognised as I sensed the first tear trail down my cheek.
He reflexively wiped it away with the back of his fingers, his face crumpled with the struggle of keeping composure. "Please—"
I shook my head, silencing him as I breathed out a weak laugh. "You know, it might be him," I acknowledged indicating towards Caden, who appeared not to have moved an inch. "Or it might be another guy—or there might not be a guy; thing is, I'm gonna start being fair to myself." The quietude that followed was so loud, it seemed to be darting between our minds in the form of all the words we never had the courage to say and all the words we never should've brought to our lips. "Killua, I really—" I paused to select the right term. "—care for you, so much. If we continue this tug of war, one of us is going to end up getting hurt beyond repair and I'd rather that be me, because I can never stand to see you get take more wounds than you already have—that's why—I'm letting you go, because if there is one person in this world who deserves to be happy, that's you. No more sacrifices, not from you."
His eyes blinked gradually at me as the ghost of what I had just said settled into his figure.
"You are—the best thing that has ever happened to me, but you can't make up your mind and this is— torture," I concluded in a grave tone as I took in a deep breath, pressing my fingertips to my eyes in order to avoid the mascara from spreading out. "I hope you find everything that you're looking for," I wished squeezing his hands. "Have a great life, Killua." I rose to my tiptoes and gently pressed my lips to his cheek, marking the apparent end of our chapter.
The sun seemed indecisive between setting and staying as I sat on my doorstep, trying to get the sight before me to make any sense. It was as if it was all there but not and clear but blurred at the same time.
I never knew decisions were this onerous until I at last put myself in the position to make one, and suddenly, double-standars didn't seem like such a wrong thing after all. The black and white had vanished just as soon as I picked a side and left room for only grey and it's tormenting shades.
"So, you finally got kicked out?" asked a wonted voice, stratling me out of my dilemma.
I was so accustomed to having Killua around whenever I felt myself sink, that when Caden's relatively taller figure was registered by my brain, it automatically sent down a collapsing impulse of what I desperately refused to call disappointment. "Uh—no, I'm just—waiting for my mom," I answered, in a tone that resembled anything but an alive person's.
His face acquired a foreign expression as he processed my reply. "Well, in case one of us has some perceptual defect, you should know, that wasn't a serious question."
I exhaled, feigning something that barely passed for a laugh. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm—here to see my uncle— your neighbour, who lives next door," he added with an unconvincing shrug.
I passed a hand through my hair and looked up at him. "You're here to see your uncle, my neighbour, who lives next door and happens not to be in this continent as of yesterday," I enlightened. "Now unless there's some sort of international portal in his house, what you just came up with was one shit of an excuse."
He pursed his lips, raising both of his hands up in defeat. "How about we rewind and pretend I actually said something very concrete and then skip to the part where you scoot over?"
I jerked, lifting a corner of my mouth up in what I hoped was a cogent smile and obliged. "I'm not complaning."
"You're quiet," he observed as he perched down next to me.
"I don't— really talk much," I revelaled, nervously rubbing my neck.
"No," he rejected with a shake of his head. "I meant your—" he paused, gesturing around me with his hands. "Presence is quiet."
"My presence is quiet?" I repeated, slightly amused.
"Yeah, there was—like the aura of a fire ball around you yesterday, it's been out after—that silver-haired guy."
I quietly cleared my throat, struggling to appear unaffected by his reference. "I—feel pretty normal."
"Is he your boyfriend?" he debriefed, and the question I was dreading yet expecting sprung up.
"What? No—no, no—no," I denied like an idiot and the peculiar little ogle that he addressed me with made me understand very well just how high I had scored on my lying game. I sighed, leaning my chin on my knee. "We dated— it didn't work out." The summary was so vague, it almost seemed like a lie. As if everything that Killua and I went through was simple enough to be defined in six words.
"Is that why you were upset?" he questioned, meeting my gaze directly. "Did he—?"
"What? No," I clarified immediately. "We—ended things a while ago, he just wanted to—talk."
He remained so quiet, it somehow tensed me up. "Who was the bad guy?" he asked, casting me an incredibly penetrating look.
"The—bad guy?" I demanded in confusion, leaning slightly back to have a clear look of his expression.
"Yeah," he accorded with a gentle tug of his mouth. "Isn't there always one? The one who screws it all up, the villain?"
"That's a very strong word," I mused, trying to comprehend his implication through his eyes.
"Well, it's real," he stressed with no delay. "There's always someone who drains the other, and always someone who ends up wasting too much of themselves over a person who never deserved it." Not only his words, but the empty gaze that occupied his eyes was proof enough of the untold stories that echoed through his statement.
"Circumstances," I uttered, bringing him back to awareness.
"What?" he debriefed in incomprehension.
"You asked who the bad guy was— circumstances," I clarified with a shrug. "It's not always a person, sometimes the background of the picture is not as vivid as the display."
He shook his head. "It's the whole that counts, in the end what matters is how, not why."
"Not everyone perceives the same way; I like to think what I'm thinking is right, because otherwise there are thoughts I don't have the stamina to deal with," I let slip carelessly.
He looked at me wordlessly, before he dropped his intertwined hands to his side, as if what I had just said lifted a kind of weight from him. "I didn't come to see my uncle," he changed the subject with a facetious tone.
I peeked up at him and then rolled my eyes. "You don't say."
"I came for you," he disclosed lightly but the way he spoke had me jerking my head towards him before I could help it.
I prayed so hard in that moment not to categorise the intensity of his gaze and the tenor of his voice as something real, but it was there, and he was staring at me like that. I briefly considered not highlighting it and simply burrying his confession with a joke but whatever I was trying to voice, just wasn't co-operating. "Caden—" I enounced, unable to come up with anything else. "This—this isn't a good idea."
His eyes didn't shift, but his position did as he faced me completely. "Why not?" His guise wasn't challenging, just willing to understand and that shot a sudden wave of hatred at me, because I considered that I might have somehow given him the wrong impression. "Is it because of—do you need time?"
My throat suddenly felt a bit too tight. "What? No—it's not—it's not anyone," I stammered, feeling incapable of making sense. "It's me."
"What about you?" he inquested, occupying all the air around me in a way.
"You—you don't know me—you don't know anything about me," I rationalised trepidatiously.
"That can be changed," he assured undismayed.
"Caden, you're not—I'm not one layer," I confessed eventually, almost unaware of the frantic motion of my hands as I helplessly tried to explain. "I'm like a thousand stupid pieces put together with God knows what—I mean, do I always talk like I've got my life together? Yes—yes, I do; but my idiotic, witty mouth isn't going to get me any where and honestly even I don't know the first things about myself—like right now, I swear I can't tell you what I'd want for dinner," I prechified with my usual, incomparable wisdom.
The horribly suppressed titter that slipped his throat made me more than just sure that what I had intended to sound very consequential had come out to sound like nothing but a badly written bed time story.
I groaned and pressed my fingers to my temples, struggling to keep composure.
"Your indecision about a meal is concerning you this much?" he questioned with an equivocal expression.
"Yeah, yes—yes it is, because it's just food today but—it only gets worse, okay?"
"Like what?" he tried with an arched eyebrow.
"I don't—I don't know, guns? Like I said, I'm not reliable, trust me," I postulated in defeat.
He rubbed his neck, his struggling semblance at keeping a serious face made me want strangle one of us. "You're not one layer," he mused, recalling my previous wording.
"Yeah, I'm not," I accenuated, crossing my arms before me.
"Well, that's the best part," he asserted, all the humour completely gone from his voice.
I shifted my head to clearly meet his gaze. "You don't understand."
"I do," he objected heedlessly. "And I want to pare through," he informed subtly and before I could even process his words, he had leaned in, his lips now pressed against mine.
It wasn't the suddenness of his action or even the disbelief that clouded me as I reflexively pushed him off; it was the abrupt and drowning emptiness that had burst through every vein of my body at his touch. It took me a while to register the unevenness of my breath and the moisture on my face. "I—I'm sorry," I choked out as I saw the startled expression on his face.
I stepped back before even making a conscious decision to do so. "I'm— sorry," I breathed, the syllables cracking in my throat. "Sorry," I pleaded one last time before pelting away in no particular direction, only, I wasn't sure who the final supplication was directed to.
Killua's P.O.V:-
With an extreme and firm conviction, I finally unfastened my seat belt and pushed the door open. My hand was impatient yet at the same time hesitant as it lingered on my cell phone, that was drowned deep in my pocket.
I mustered the strength to pull it out as I paced gradually down her street, with every single word that she had spoken, clearly settled in my mind like an untamed wave that supplied the rush to the current circulation of my blood.
Prior to the slanding to my thoughts in the rival direction, I quickly dialed the digits on the screen and held my mobile against my ear, my heart accelerating with every beep until the call was directed to her inbox.
Somehow, knowing that I would be addressing her indirectly made me feel more relieved than I wanted to admit.
"Coward."
Her antecedent accusation shot me so abruptly, my whole body tensed up as it had been hustled forward. "You were right," I blurted out in the receiver before I realised I had said it out loud. I immediately cleared my throat and drew in a calming breath. "I mean, you weren't completely wrong," I ammended quickly, almost feeling her presence.
"You ruined me, Killua."
The next affliction had me biting down my lower lip with its severity. "I was wrong," I fortified, feeling incapable of saying more. "And I broke you while trying to protect you, I didn't want that—you were right, I've been running like a coward, I've been running from you, because—" I broke off as I knew how baring the next turn would be. "Because I'm scared to tell you that I need you—and I want you and I want to mend you, redeem myself this time."
"You're okay with hurting both of us over and over, and what's all this even for?"
I couldn't tell whether it was my body or the ground that was trembling, but I kept going nonetheless. "My wrong decisions hurt you, I've been darting blindly between what is right and what feels right—without realising that what I feel is right."
"Every time that I think I've managed to open a door to you, it just seems to lead to another corridor and—it's draining me. Not having you hurts but having just a part of you hurts even more."
With every step that I took forward, every emotion that I had been struggling to bury came descending nearer and nearer. "It was never a corridor—it was a loop, leading straight back to you," I admitted, as I sauntered on the pavement.
"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, but you can't make up your mind and this is torture."
"There was no choice, Claire. I could never choose, because it always you—and I'm tired of running away from you, because it's as realistic as escaping from myself. I'm giving up—on this absurd chase." Every word I spoke seemed to be removing a certain weight from my body like parts of an armour dropping to my feet one by one, as I was barely a stride away from her house. "You're hoping I find everything I'm looking for, that's you—you're everything," I professed with a sigh. "Because, Claire, I—" I froze just as I was about to add the last segment to my revelation on seeing the sight before me.
Unexpectedly, she was seated on her doorstep with the boy from the previous day perched next to her. I felt my jaw harden reflexively on detecting the almost inexistent distance between them. Her hands were moving so anxiously, I could tell she was deeply concentrated in trying to either prove a point or make sense of something she herself didn't understand.
I was so lost in observing their exchange that I barely paid attention to any word they spoke but it was when she suddenly went silently motionless that I felt the blood drain from every part of my body, because right there before me, he drew in and ended the range that separated them.
Every ounce of feeling in my body evacuated out in that very second and I couldn't seem to recall where I was standing and why.
You lost her.
I wasn't aware of when or how, but I found my numb form dragging me back in a purposeless direction. Everything below and above me was somehow completely out of sight.
You lost her.
The sinking feeling that was radiating from my chest to my palms, made it's way up to my throat as my freezing hand clasped my hair on its own. The rupturing sound that registered in my mind, made me cognize the fact that the cell phone that I had been clasping between my fingers just an instant ago was now nothing but uneven fragments that fell from my hand like an aimless cascade, taking with it all those unspoken words that she would never hear.
You lost her.
The tips of my fingers held on to the hood of the car for support, the ground seemed to be hollow all of a sudden. Involuntarily, I found myself considering what the outcome would have been if I had just arrived a few moments before; the thought jolted and immediate blow through my veins and my fist automatically penetrated the window glass, throwing back an intolerable emptiness at every part of my skin.
She's gone. She's gone. She's gone.
"Killua?" addressed an extricating voice from my side.
I whirled my head towards it before making a conscious decision to do so, unraveling the sight of Claire's fragile figure gazing at me with an unnatural glisten that reflected from her eyes. It was a few seconds later that they trailed down and widened, processing something I had somehow missed.
"Oh God," she breathed out weakly. "Are you—you're bleeding." She whimpered and I became aware of the fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as I followed the path of her stare and acknowledged that my entire wrist was giving rise to the crimson fluid that flowed uncontrollably down to my fingertips.
"You're bleeding," she choked out again before wincing back and struggling with her uneven breathing. "You, just—" Her laboured inhaled were loud enough to mantel every other sound around us. With a firm intake of air, she loomed her hand towards me and firmly grabbed my arm.
I couldn't comprehend her action and my mind barely registered that I was letting myself being lead by her with no restraint.
She hauled me near the porch of her house, making way to her car and quickly threw the door of the driver's seat open; pulling me down in a sitting position, she dug out a first aid kit with her trembling hands and fumbled through it hysterically.
It wasn't hard to see that she was trying to avoid looking at my wound. I could only stare at her face as she managed to pull out a shard of glass from my skin, sobbing constantly.
Every few seconds, she would turn away and exhale forcefully; the slight prick of the antiseptic and its pungent smell were hardly even processed by my consciousness.
She displaced the items in the box and cursed through her teeth before turning to look at me, her eyes were hollow. "Rip it off," she said, lifting up a part of her shirt.
"What?" I asked vacantly.
"I'm out of bandages, rip this off," she ordered, her eyes shut tight in an effort to maintain composure.
When several moments passed and I just kept motionlessly staring at her, the look in her eyes darkened with inconceivable wrath. "Killua, tear the fucking shirt!" she bellowed, her hands clasping her head.
My gaze didn't leave hers even for a second as I grabbed a handful of her clothing and swiftly shred it off, handing her the patch.
She furiously wiped her eyes as she wrapped it around my hand, tying the ends loosely with her shaking hands, she drew back and leaned against the car frame. She looked thoroughly exhausted, her eyes shut tightly with moisture constantly trailing down her visage.
The shaky silence was so heavy, I could feel the sky closing in on me. I couldn't bring any of my muscles to move and comfort her.
"Please," she pleaded with a raspy voice. "Killua, please—please don't." She swallowed, running out of breath. "I'll do anything— please, just don't hurt yourself."
The muteness that her supplication had bestowed on me had yet just stricken when she clasped her hands before me.
As my senses registered the motion, I became aware of what she was doing: she was begging before me.
"I—nothing matters—whatever I said, just please," she cried out helplessly. "Not you, I can't take it, please—don't."
My insensate hands approached hers and lowered them; never before I had felt so powerless, so poisonous. But it wasn't her tears that made me realise just how grave a mistake I was close to making mere moments ago when I was about to give in to her, it was the last words that she spoke to me that night, and I knew I could never forget them or forgive myself as long as I lived:
"Hurt me—I can't bear it with you— I'm sorry."she whispered like a prayer and I couldn't believe I was the one who had regarded her as selfish. "Not you—not you. You're everything."
3 months later:-
The night had an unusual light breeze accompanied by the familiar cold. It was as if the wind was whispering scattered thoughts out to the unknown.
I walked down the street with my hands in my pockets as I listened to the chime of the air and passed by the lights of the city when it was nothing short of alive.
It was her town and every fragment of it was somehow valuable. I breathed the same air she did, dwelled under the same sky and from time to time, moments that would never be enough, I would catch glimpses of her.
She had described it well, torture was what we were both sentenced to and destiny hadn't been kind to either one of us, the poison I was granted with was the sacrifice that drained my soul of feeling. But every existence was short and even though mine was now devoid of life, it would eventually expire and so would every regret of mine.
"—so you think having an extension between your legs is good enough excuse to call you a man?" I heard an exceptionally familiar and loud voice come from behind me.
I forthwith turned to spot Claire leaning out from the window of her car, her whole figure perched as if she was ready to jump out any moment; in front of her was a parked truck and, I supposed it's driver, standing just a few feet away.
I stood fixated at my place as I registered the occurring event, unable to categorise it as a reality. In the name of intellect and credence for everything logical, I even attempted to pinch myself but in vain, she was still there and as material and concrete as she'd been at the first glance.
"I'm gonna take out those pathetic jokes for eyes that you have and shove them up your ass!" she bellowed, her face tight. I didn't seem to catch the man's reply.
I couldn't help the way my jaw twitched at her words. For the smallest of instants, I considered the idea of a look alike or the fact that I was hallucinating her since she was what occupied the majority of my thoughts. A few blinks and eye rubs assured me that this was not a mirage.
Focusing once more on the scene before me I watched the anonymous man retort, holding his middle finger up as he strode towards her.
I became aware of the few people that stood nearby and were marvelling the happening with great interest as I paced quickly ahead.
"Oh look, you can walk straight, considering the twelve toes that prevent you from hitting the brakes on time," she commented without a single trace of fear.
"—I'm gonna shut that" his hand went right to her collar before I seized his wrist. He turned to me slightly perplexed.
"I dare you to touch her and leave with your fingers intact." My voice came out lower than I intended. "All twelve of them," I added, slightly louder. If fate actually expected me to believe in this risible occurrence, then humor seemed like an appropriate addition.
He gazed at me and then at her before he raised his hands in surrender and drew back. "She started it man."
"I started it?" she interjected. "What about you captain cheaper by the dozen?"
His eyes darted towards her, holding an unmistakable scowl but eventually he just shook his head and strode in the opposite direction.
I sighed and shrugged as I watched him walk away with his shoulders slouched forward then spun around to face her, three months gone and I never thought I would have the courage to confront her, yet here she was.
She blinked at me, her mouth slightly open and then shook her head as if she was trying to gather some sense in it.
"Claire?" Her name rolled so easily off my tongue, as if it was the only thing I was meant to say.
"Yeah?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement.
"Are you high?" I tested.
"What? No." She scoffed like it was the most absurd hypothesis in existence.
I exhaled and put my hands back inside my pockets. "Jesus Christ," I muttered. "You have a death wish, then?"
She pursed her lips. "I can smack pretty well."
"Sure." I rolled my eyes. "Just be careful enough to get your bones back in one piece."
"They're not all invincible assassins," she countered.
I peered at her speechlessly. One by one, I could suddenly see all the alterations that had appeared on her face, her body, her presence: The new feline look in her eyes, dark, smoky and intense; the way her short hair framed the outline of her visage and fell silkily by her neck and how she hung her mouth in a slightly different manner now. It was as if she was more comfortable in her skin now and every string that held her back before had somehow seized to exist— evaporated. I could only make a mere and faded connection between her and the girl I knew. I wondered where I had lost sight of her and where she had modified every detail that I held on to for so long.
"Done with your love fest?" She debriefed with her elbow leaned against the door.
"W-what?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If you wanna ogle at me so bad, at least get in." She gestured towards the passenger seat.
I couldn't hold back the laughter that escaped my lips. "Impressive," I remarked. "What is this magic? Steroids?"
She snorted and a corner of her mouth lifted up. "I'll tell you over some ice cream," she invited.
I raised an eyebrow. "Tempting." She unlocked the car as I crossed to the other side and got in.
She started the engine, her eyebrows quirked up playfully.
I leaned across her body and grabbed the abandoned seatbelt before fastening it around her. "Fucking reckless."
When I straightened back up, I saw her gaze at me with a blank expression.
"Are you growing a beard?" She asked tracing my jaw with her finger.
I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from reacting to her touch. "No, are you?"
She rolled her eyes and positioned her hands around the steering wheel. "So, how are you?" She spoke so easily in contrast to the last time she had attempted to utter those words.
"For fuck's sake slow down!" I roared with one hand clutching at the handle and the other holding the ice cream cups we had just gotten from the mini-mart that Claire was dashing ahead from.
Since she had pulled out half an hour ago, she had nearly crashed the car twice and barked insults out to the other drivers all the way. She pretended not to have heard me. "And I got myself registered and everything," she continued from where she had broken off, ignoring my pleads. "My psychiatrist says I should start something like knitting classes because I need to control my anger, I told her I rarely lose my temper anymore and she mocked me; can you believe her?"
Just one look at her and I knew she was sincere in her disbelief. "Right," I muttered.
"And Katie makes all these noises, like choking crows but she's pretty cute too."
I felt a smile form on my face. "Can't we just stop driving? Let's walk?" I suggested.
In the matter of seconds, she pulled over, barely missing a streetlight. "Geez, don't wet my seat, Killua."
We both got out and ripped off the seals of the containers. I could see the streetlights leading towards the local park; the gates were fully swung open and there was a clear sight of the enormous fountain that occupied its center.
She went into an easy pace down the sidewalk and I followed suit. Sauntering over her steps, it was hard to deny the indescribable and arcane connection that I always felt with her.
The light fell on a section of her hair, giving it a maroon glow as it fluttered lightly. "You've changed," I voiced out before making a conscious decision to do so.
She cocked her head at me. "In a good way?" she asked through a mouthful of ice cream.
I grinned at her. I could've sworn she would have started with a negative perspective. "Depends," I considered. "If common people would refer to boozing around town with half an ass flanked over and ready to piss out insults as an improvement."
She rolled her eyes at me. "I'm not boozed."
"Of course not." We ate in silence, strolling forward in the misty night.
"Well, you're pretty much the same," she observed after a while.
"In a bad way?"
"Depends," she imitated. "If shit remained consistent in its properties, would common people regard it as an enhancement?"
I scoffed and moved closer to her, tucking a strand of lose hair behind her ear.
She froze immediately.
"What have you really been up to?" I whispered in her ear.
Her shoulders relaxed and she huffed.
"Like you wouldn't know." Her tone was casual.
"What?"
"Come on now, I might not have eyes on my ass but it isn't all that hard to spot a silver haired asshole snooping on you throughout the galaxy."
I pursed my lips and looked away. "Actually, trouble is strongly attracted to that eyeless ass of yours; I'm just watching over you."
She sighed. "Yeah, it's not like you care for me or wanna be near me or anything."
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sudden weight on my chest. "Get real. Three months, Claire and you keep disappearing." My tone was accusative, as if I had some right over her.
For a few minutes, she refused to answer, stopping by a dustbin, she threw off the wrappers and then stretched her arms. "I promised I would help you out and it wasn't supposed to be a piece of cake."
I stared at her in disbelief. "Tell me you're not—"
"Shut your face, Killua. I'm not getting into anything risky."
"Right and I'm taking your word for it," I retorted with a glare.
She sighed and tilted her head. "Trust me."
I arched an eyebrow at her. "I don't trust anything that bleeds for a week and survives."
Her face went blank all of a sudden and she burst out laughing so loud, it seemed to be booming throughout the block.
I could only look at her. I had never seen her express herself so easily and comfortably.
After a few seconds she evened her breathing. There were actual tears in her eyes, I found it hard to believe. "I got an internship at my dad's office," she revealed in a weak voice, trying to compose her expression
"What? Why?"
She bit her lip and met my eyes. "I went through some of his old documents, he lead the surveillance team for the last auction, remember?"
"Yes, so?"
"I figured they might hire the same agency this time because the systems were all set very tactically."
"They did?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. "I sort of got through to one of my dad's old coworkers and obtained some pretty handy info."
"Like what?"
"Like the whole security plan, where the cameras are positioned, the whole floor by floor analysis etc. etc. and we already have the digital blueprints so..."
"And they gave it all away to you because you're an internee?" I debriefed in a dubious manner.
She rolled her eyes. "Killua, I hacked through the systems, this is not an installment of spider man, my ass had to do a lot of work for you."
"Your ass has earned my respect," I mused.
She grinned at me. "I'll send you the files."
"Okay."
She passed a hand through her hair and sauntered forward.
"I thought you were going to let me in on the secret of this new liberation," I reminded.
"You really wanna know?" she baited in a frisky tone.
"Try me."
She exhaled deeply and turned to face me. "You're something I can't have and I don't know how to become something you'd want," she confessed with a sad smile.
I stopped breathing the moment she completed her words.
"And that's the part of my life that I can't alter, but I'm not gonna miss out on anything else, not anymore— I'm gonna shout and I'm gonna say stupid things and I'm gonna cut off my hair as many times as I want," she admitted, her fingers tangling through her strands as her voice got tighter. "Seize the moment, right? And you know what? I don't care. I don't fucking care. I know I'm selfish and I'm not that big of a recreant to be afraid to admit it. I think for myself and I think about myself and there you go— that's my biggest flaw," she chuckled breathlessly. "I might not be a very good person, but I'm not a very bad one either, okay? I'm not here to rant on about my miseries because no one cares and because I deserved exactly what I got. I'm human, I'm only eighteen and I'm finding myself." Her breath slightly hitched and she paused to swallow hard. "You're it for me Killua, it's never gonna be real with anyone else, but I'm not gonna beg for you. Whatever is out there for me, I'll cope, this is good, everything's fine."
I couldn't describe the deep hole that I felt in my body. Her voice slashed a cut through my chest that oozed of unbearable pain. "You know why I have to stay away from you, if I could—"
"Shut the fuck up," she interrupted immediately. "This is hard enough as it is, don't say words that make me want things that I can't have—"
I caught her in an embrace before she had time to react. Everything about her was so miraculously divine: her scent, her breath, the sweet fragrance of her hair. "You're everything," I breathed, holding her tighter.
Her whole body trembled under my touch.
Mustering all my will, I drew back but not before planting a firm kiss on her cheek, careful not to shift because I knew that we'd both be done for if I moved just an inch.
I watched her blink furiously and stare constantly upward as she struggled to hold her tears back.
I saw the stars in her eyes that night, immersed in a sea of longing and agony; that was how I knew and couldn't deny any further to myself just how much I loved her. Maybe I would never get the chance to tell her that, but she was the only one I had eyes for, and it might've not mattered if our life proceeded in the same painful flow but what I didn't know was that destiny would reach out eventually and we didn't have merely this moment but maybe an infinite more.
The arcane infinity holds no more secrets than the soul,
for it could be a mere moment or the frost and its cold.