A brief playlist you could follow as you read this chapter:
Niall Horan - This town (for the dancing scene), Little Mix - Secret love song (for the scene in the car) and Aquilo - Silhouette (for the last scene).
The author's note is at the end this time. Dig in!
Chapter: 26
"Smoke & Mirrors— Part II: Ubiquitous."
"Where the dark settles, merging with the smoke
there is a midnight lane, where nobody ever goes.
And on a wall painted with screams and cries
there is a mirror, wider than the sky.
The two figures parallel to one another,
looking farther beyong the glass;
one whose sight went deeper than the night
and one who saw a mere hollow mass.
There was disparity as they observed this chaotic mess:
In their own reflections, he saw her, but she only saw herself."
It was a soft midnight sky that cast its trepid glow on the brunette as she sauntered forward, ignoring the whispers of the wind that played with her hair. Her fragile frame was somehow even more enhanced as so as she sported the weight of a leaden bag between her arms; it wasn't merely burdensome to her ribs, but to the pumping source they caged within them: something incredibly heavy on her guilty heart.
Now, there was a secret that she carried as the seventeen year old, struggled to walk through the deserted streets to a particular location. She always distorted her conscience to reach some secure deviation, concealing her sins by directing them elsewhere; for when she pictured blood, the one on her hands, she shuffled all her memories until they were conducted back to her own misery—with a somewhat lesser intensity however.
Her own dark era swirled before her as a constant reminder of who she was and what she had done. She had managed to erase some pieces, but others had stuck deeply to her stained soul. She did remember her own tears, and hear her own cries and children staring at her—homeless orphans with broken dreams and then one last glimpse of an innocent face she had profoundly wronged.
And these were the myriads and myriads of uncontrollable thoughts that orbited in her head everytime she snuck out in the middle of the night with most of her belongings and deposited every single piece at the door of the same orphanage from where she had been retrieved several years ago, like an anonymous shadow, lurking in a battle between remorse and redemption.
But there was certainly something very diverse and versatile about that particular night, something cold, but something that resonated with whatever made her whole.
And the mysterious spectre was revealed in an instant as her hold on the bag broke suddenly due to its mass, and another set of hands was arounds hers to avoid its fall.
There was a very brief moment of incomprehension in which she might have screamed if the dim streetlights didn't disclose the identity of her unexpected auxiliary.
But when his features did click with some resemblance in her memory, gratefulness was far from what she experienced.
"What—what are you doing here?" she demanded in an unfiltered tone from the blue-eyed boy in front of her; the boy she had encountered in the super-market the previous night, also the very boy who she had run into at the school library and learned conditionally to despise. Her aggressive reaction wasn't solely based on prejudice, that was more than verified by his teasing conduct.
The boy's lips were shaped into an impertinent grin before he answered her breathless question. "Gorilla patrol," he mumbled, slightly tilting his head, "had to keep tabs on the nearest one."
Her teeth automatically clenched together as an open display of her not appreciating his humour in the very least way. "You're following me, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but I think I might've confused you for Jesus," he continued with the same tone, enjoying her glare almost to an unbelievable extent. "I think it's safe to say I need a new version of the Bible."
Whatever expression she showed next, he could not put a name to it, it however, did not hold any warmth in it.
That was partially what ignited him at her sight: there was something very attractive he found in her that had nothing sexual to it—maybe nothing completely sexual to it. With the addition of the common appeal he felt towards the opposite gender, often very dull, there was a very new feeling mingled with it when it came to her. For some reason, that he had not yet understood, he wanted to know her; even petty things about her existence interested him somehow. He could not however, identify the cause behind it.
"Your hands are cold," she breathed, pulling him out of his reflective sphere.
He looked down to see his palms still pressing against her fingers as he supported the weight between her arms. "This is heavy," he commented considering it an appropriate remark for a human of her size, almost about to add something relating to her physical weakness but censoring the sentence in caution of not offending her.
"Wish I could say the same about your wit," she whispered, twitching the muscles of her face in a very peculiar manner that had something provoking to it.
"And I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hold a bag by its straps," he added further, still hands on hers and very aware of it.
"Yeah, well, what are you? The luggage police?"
A corner of his mouth lifted up at her retort, he could see the reluctance in her tone as she feared the question he would eventually ask her. "What's a girl like you, doing out here in the middle of the night?"
She blinked twice at his words. "What do you mean by 'a girl like you'?" she debriefed in challenge and obvious deviation.
"Female such as your self," he mocked, unable to resist flaring her up. "And that's a horrible attempt at side-tracking by the way."
"You speak like it's any of your business."
"Abuse of inanimate objects is everybody's business," he justfied, indicating towards the bag they were both still holding. "Let go, I'd honestly feel very bad about myself if I let a girl, even one like you, carry this on her own in my presence."
There was something very firmly objecting in her eyes, which was fortified by her immoblity; maybe it was indecision between wanting company in the dark she stood and having to give any explanation for her purpose.
"I won't ask any questions if you won't," he promised as if he had just read her mind and struck her the most convenient deal she could have imagined. Because frankly, as she thought inside her head, she couldn't care less whatever he was doing or why—little did she know that this stranger would become her axis in less than the time period of a year.
She at last withdrew her hands from under his freezing ones, but didn't break away her gaze from his. She wondered quietly what he would actually be considering her situation as—she probably appeared as a drug smuggler or a rebellious teenager running away from home or something even beyond her own calculation.
It was the most silent yet loud walk she had ever had with any living person, as she paced that night with that mysterious boy; the only sounds were those of her footsteps and the eventual blow of warm air she would direct at her fisted hands to overcome the cold.
The quietude was almost pressing as she ultimately stopped him a few strides away from her destination, afterall there was just one secret she wanted to keep her own in that twilight, and when she did return, his eyes held absolutely no question in them—It almost seemed like he already knew.
It was a few minutes later that she realised they had, even though unwillingly so, formed a fragile and secret little understanding of their own, but eventually he spoke and knocked the breath out of her with his statement: "You know, that's not how you redeem your sins; if you've done wrong by someone, your sole salvation rests with them—not God, not charity."
She forgot how to work her lungs in that moment and if that desperate instant had lasted any longer, she would've almost let slip a question that haunted her on a permanent basis: "What if that person's dead?"
Instead what she said was: "What are you talking about?"
She could've killed in that second just to have a glimpse of his expression or a peek in his mind, but he was sauntering ahead of her and she struggled to keep composure. "Of course," he conjectured, "that's human nature I suppose; to harm and then feel sorry for oneself."
There was a brief and silent laugh that followed his words but could he tell that behind him, she could hardly keep herself standing?
"But it doesn't work that way," he added, and she imagined he was assuring her while the speaker was doing so for himself. "The past doesn't define you and by salvation I mean peace of mind, because let's be honest, isn't it our conscience that's our sole enemy in the end?" he concluded, staring into nothingness.
She closed her eyes in horror, thinking it surreal of how he was translating her thoughts sentence by sentence— was it her eyes? Were they the source behind his effortless perception? If so, she shut them, trying to shut his words out.
But there was one thing she didn't know: he wasn't reading her soul—it was somehow that they had unintentionally synced their two broken halves into one empty whole.
His figure was good as gone when she had the courage to unveil the sight before her again; and that was why she thought, even after knowing him for every moment that she did, that that night was nothing more than a cloaked nightmare, which had drained away with all her other miserable memories of the past—that was the beauty of her very human mind: it forgot.
When Claire and I first started going out officially, I had this crazy idea in my head to take her to this perfect dinner—my idea of an ideal date, which I found rather uncharacteristic of myself since I seldom preferred ordinary things in life and this was the epitome of cliches; but the actual trammel was that she refused immediately declaring that, and I quote her exact statements: "it was an abuse of privacy", "an uncomfortable and unnecessary formality" and finally that "people constantly stare and I feel violated".
Since we both had a uniform level of obstinacy, we finally came to a difficultly reached agreement. I took her to this small barbecue joint barely outside town, which never had more than two people in it. Surprisingly, we had a nice meal, I talked more than I probably had in my entire life and on the way home I asked her what was the one thing she had never done but wanted to. Her answer was easy and surprising as she admitted that taking the subway was one feat that she had never accomplished in her life.
So, I stopped the car right where we were and walked with her to the nearby underpass and I recall her having the same mesmerised look that she had after the first time I kissed her, as we stepped into the train; she actually laughed at something I said, but sadly, I couldn't remember that killer joke afterwards—there was honestly only one thing I remembered in detail about that night as I memorised the glint in her eye: the train stopped. The power had somehow been cut off, it was merely thirty seconds but when the lights came back up and I saw the look on Claire's face, I froze. It was the most horrifying gaze I had ever witnessed—hollow, haunted as she stared in no particular direction with her hands ferociously grabbing her hair. She never told me what happened, not even later on but the image of that empty expression had left a permanent impression in my mind.
It was an identical guise that registered in my brain as the elevator doors parted and Claire's vacant eyes gazed into oblivion, her arms clutched in a queer manner, as if she wasn't even aware of their existance.
"Claire?" I breathed, convoluted in the sudden panic.
Her head snapped up as if her entire body had just been rebooted by my call and her hands moved to her shoulders, a soundless whimper escaping her lips.
"What is—are you—hurt?" I stammered, unable to understand just why the hell I couldn't approach her.
She swallowed on hearing my words and her eyelids fluttered. "What? God, no—I—i'm just—" she attempted breathlessly before briefly closing her eyes and taking a trembling inhale as she met my eyes. Within seconds, she recomposed her features, although failing to mask the misty fear in her eyes as she spoke: "The elevator," she stated, rubbing her face. "It was—I felt suffocated," she lied shamelessly, stepping out and constantly touching the side of her neck.
I stared at her for a second, bathing in rage and stupefaction. She actually did this quite a lot, being very well aware of the fact that I always knew she was lying but bluntly pretending that things were perfectly clear between us. "Oh, so you suddenly developed claustrophobia in the matter of a few minutes," I assessed, tracing my jaw with my finger. "Impressive—barely credible, but impressive. Take another go Claire, who knows what incredible disorders we could diagnose you with next; it's truly a medical miracle."
She loured at me for a moment. "Drop it," she ordered, firmness lacing her voice.
I glared right back before eventually breaking eye-contact. "Fine." I shrugged. "Did you know that your lips twitch after you lie, by the way?" I casually commented, thrusting my hands in my pockets.
"I'm not lying," she stressed, not meeting my eyes this time.
"Twitched again," I informed, walking forward this time.
"I'm not lying to you!" she repeated, reaching my side.
"And again—Claire, seriously, stop. You're gonna give yourself a lip spasm," I joked provokingly as her scowl intesified.
The sad thing however was that this was absolutely normal: lies were told and ignored between us. That's why I was very sure that she and I, no matter in which direction we went, would always have a very weak foundation—built on lies and cowardice. "Okay, I believe you," I lied further, cementing the entire issue and bringing it to its end.
There was something in her eyes that I couldn't identify as she studied my face. "You wiped the security?" she mumbled, reminding us both of where we really where.
I cleared my throat. "Yes and it was more than double compared to the other floors."
"Well, of course it—" she began explaining prior to stopping mid-word and acquiring an utterly horrified look as she stared behind me. "Killua," she whispered, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me towards her.
"What?" I demanded, refusing to move.
"There's a man behind you," she bleated, her voice quivering with confusion.
"What?" I debriefed, looking at her indicated direction. "Oh, don't worry—Claire, this is Ji-blala," I mocked, unable to keep a straight face as I gestured towards the suited and hazy-looking man beside me, "or at least that's what he told me in that state, but I decided to call him Jim because come on, who can keep up with all those syllables?—he looks like a Jim, doesn't he?"
She gazed for a few moments at the subject of my conversation before shifting her irises towards me. "What did you do to him?" she questioned, surveying his half-conscious form.
"I did what you told me," I replied with amusement.
Her eyebrows knotted together at my words. "What did I tell you?" she whisper-shouted in disbelief.
"Well, your whole using electricity to change the brain's chemistry thing," I reminded, tilting my head to catch her proper reaction. "ECT, was it?"
Her lips were pursed as she understood my implication and then her mouth fell open. "You—him—" she pointed in incomprehension. "Is he going to die?" she asked, in a barely audible whisper.
I grimaced at her. "He actually passed out before and when he was conscious again, trust me, he was a lot more co-operative," I recounted, enjoying her mutating countenance.
"So—it worked?"
"And turns out, we need his fingerprint to access the database," I announced, bringing her attention to his red badge, "he's like the capo of the floor, you know—"
"If you make another one of your cheap jokes, I swear to God I'll rip off your balls," she warned through clenched teeth dismissing the topic as she extracted her phone from her pocket to check the blueprints.
"I love when you talk dirty to me." I nodded before she emitted a sound that sounded somewhat likea growl and actually bit my finger. "Claire control yourself, there's a man watching," I continued, observing her wrath shoot up as she understood that her attack wasn't actually causing me any pain.
Her mouth trembled as she struggled to come up with a satisfying enough insult. "Bastard," she at last decided.
"Actually, my parents were married when I was conceived," I further tested her patience but she ultimately decided to ignore me as she spun around and paced forward.
Although she was constantly muttering something inaudible as I followed suit, taking our tour guide with me.
"You're really sexy when you're angry, you know that?" I remarked after what seemed like an endless parade of silent turns in every direction.
She paused her step and turned to me, whatever was written on her face was unreadable but I definitely spotted irritation. "I'd tell you how I really feel, but I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to express myself in this case," she declared, resuming her trek.
I couldn't help but laugh at her statement. "It's something about that glint you get in your eyes," I elaborated, giving her one detailed look from head to toe, "almost makes me want to lose that bet and make you mine."
Once again, she ceased her walk and leered at me for a second. "Yeah well, you might as well come and pee around me since you're way too much of a coward to do anything else," she advised, heading forward.
That manged to shut me up for a minute and when I opened my mouth to argue my case again, she held her hand up and stopped right in front of a fairly sized entrance with a prominent DFR on its side. "Well, Jim, that's your cue—" I began, but Claire put a hand on my mouth and spun me to face her.
"I have something to say," she announced, as she wrung her fingers nervously.
"What?"
She just looked at me for what seemed like a really long time before exhaling deeply. "I couldn't get to the cameras in the database quarter, they're not associated with the surveillance team, so I literally have no idea who or what is in there," she confessed, leaving me stunned for a moment.
I gaped at her, wordlessly, waiting for the moment she'd tell me that she was joking. "Please tell me you're getting back at me for my jokes with one of your own," I pleaded.
Her silent look was enough of an answer for me.
My mouth fell open at that. "IT WAS YOUR PLAN—" I commenced my rage episode in all its glory but her voice over-lapped mine.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE KILLUA! I'M EIGHTEEN, OKAY?" she bellowed back with all of her might, "I just graduated and you're expecting me to break in the database security of a multi-million dollar company with a one hundred percent successful scheme?"
I blinked at her, unable to mould my thoughts into suitable words. "Then why the hell did you bring us all the way here? To tell me this?" I demanded through gritted teeth.
"You know I always have a plan B," she informed, passing a hand through her hair.
"And what's that?" I shot back, unable to resist the mocking tone that tinted my voice.
"Promise me you won't yell," she submitted, folding her arms in front of her chest.
I glared at her before swallowing my anger and trying to keep a clear mind. "What is it?"
Her lips were pursed as she struggled with the sentence that was on the tip of tongue. "I need a blackout."
Claire's P.O.V:-
When my dad died I lost everything, including my mind. It wasn't the unanticipated tempest that wrecked every functional part of my brain, rather it was that lingering haze that had settled permanently in the air around me.
Every unit that composed my life had become so unstable and frictionless that I almost expected any perfunctory waft to sweep in and knock out the non-existent sanity I was left with. I was living in a fake counterfeit of all that I previously had; everyone pretended around me for my own sake and I failed to understand whether they forgot or just ignored the fact that at the very least, my perception was sadly still intact and I could pretty much comprehend all the crap around me.
I could tell, by the horrifying bags under her eyes, that my mom cried every night or by my Nonna's incoherent conversations that she had no idea what she was saying and couldn't herself accept that she had lost her son or by Mr. Domoto's badly covered up caution regarding his constant fear that I might do something to myself at any moment and even Killua's mental absence when he was with me 24/7 —it was a while later that I realised the way he acted was probably because of shock and guilt due to his family's role in the whole scandal instead of preliminary preparation to call it quits with me because of my very consistent condition. (Yes, I did actually consider that at one point and my paranoia might not have been the sole cause of that.)
But it was during that time that I learned to forgive myself and make peace with my past—or at least I thought I had and it was also within that period that my psychiatrist introduced me to the absurt term that was normally referred to as a 'happy place'.
I had immediately labelled it as the most preposterous and risible idea that was literally regarded as therapy in the history of psychology, until I had mentioned this episode to Killua in order to obtain his approval of my opinion, but his answer to my comment had genuinely startled me.
"It actually works," he submitted, looking up from the book from my shelf that he was intricately examining.
"What?"
His eyebrow lifted up in amusement and he rewarded me with his complete attention as he spoke. "Claire, people distort reality, that's how they manage to maintain sanity," he accentuated, studying my reaction.
"But—" I barely stopped myself from remarking it as stupid, before skidding in another direction. "You have a happy place?"
He titled his head on catching my expression of badly controlled laughter as he put the book down and approached me. "You mean to tell me that you have absolutely no escape from all the chaos going on up there?" he questioned in disbelief, tapping his temple with his fingertips.
"Well—hey—" I paused, detecting his tone, "what's with the double emphasis on you?"
He pursed his lips before emitting a silent laugh and sitting on the foot of my bed. "It just seems to me sometimes that—well, you have a lot of..."
"Crazy in my head?" I completed, daring him to deny me.
"No, you surmising idiot," he rejected, "commotion, you know, because everything just bundles up in our brains sometimes."
I considered his theory as I crossed my legs on the bed. "Yeah, but— yeah," I concluded.
He nodded while changing his position and supporting his head on his hand. "And how exactly do you cope with it?"
"I—over-think it, then over-analyze it and just get it all off my chest by over-reacting to it."
"Yes, and we wonder why mass murder just springs out of nowhere," he ventured, pretending to be actually absorbed in thought.
"What's your happy place?" I probed, making his expression change.
He just replied with a crooked smile which implied his response very clearly.
"Okay, don't tell me then, I won't tell you mine either," I declared, looking at him intently.
"Sure, two seconds into this conversation and you not only believe in happy places, but also have developed one. How about I go to the restroom and you have a child when I come back?" he countered with an incredibly bored mien.
I rolled my eyes at his lame attempt at humour. "I'm actually not lying, smart-ass."
"Really? What is it then? Describe it, I'm genuinely curious," he challenged, stirring as he surveyed me.
"It's actually a who, not a what." I shrugged, intirguing him.
He stared at me silently for a few seconds with a blank expression. "Is this who, pretty?"
I couldn't help but laugh at his indecisive verification. "Well—some would say he is."
He let out a brief whistle as he readjusted his position. "It's a he and you have no idea how relieved I am."
"And you know what? He's also a huge bastard who pretends to be incredibly hard core but, in reality, he's a nerd who collects dolls," I continued, motioning with my hands.
"Please stop before I fall in love," he interrupted, breaking down the last three words.
"And he also acts like he doesn't care about people but he's probably the kindest guy I know," I added and gradually his smug expression disappeared.
"Okay—now I'm not really sure who you're talking about," he dodged with a defensive laugh.
"I knew it, fucking God, it takes just one compliment to make you shit your pants," I concluded, trying to get him to meet my eyes.
He mimicked me instead of coming up with one of his usual witty comebacks but stopped when I recommenced my praising spree to make him shut up. "Wait, wait,wait—stop, stop—Claire, I'm serious, stop."
"Okay, just don't start crying," I ceased, raising both my hands up in surrender on seeing his firm guise.
"It's just that—"he cleared his throat. "You've probably forgotten how this whole thing even began and once you're done with that, it's gonna come back up and I'm gonna ruin it."
"What?" I demanded in confusion.
"Seriously, I'm your happy place?" he reminded with heavy irony. "You can do so much better Claire, and fyi, the first thing you look at isn't called a happy place."
I stared at him for a moment before shrugging. "You asshole, I'm happy when I'm with you, you make me happy."
He froze again and I honestly would've punched him in the face if he didn't speak immediately. "If I talk, this is going bad, so just shut up," he ordered as he grabbed my arms and pulled me closer.
It was the sweetest thing as he ended the distance between our mouths and then gently parted my lips with his own. I can't remember how long we stayed that way, but I do remember him whispering something that sounded a lot like 'you're mine' and it was a lot later that I realised he was talking about his happy place.
And it turned out, that that very moment had become my mind's sanctuary and I involuntarily wandered back to it— a lot, which was why when Killua snapped his fingers in front of me, I almost fell back until he caught my hand.
"What nonsense did you just speak?" he demanded with badly suppressed wrath, helping me stand straight.
"I said I need a blackout," I repeated, trying to remain composed and appear unaffected by the burning anger in his eyes.
"You need a what?" he asked once more as if he was almost waiting for me to change my answer.
"A fucking blackout Killua," I responded, losing my temper."You manipulate electricity, how hard can it be?"
He pressed his fingers to his temples before taking a deep breath. "Would your majesty at least like to tell me what her royal plan is?"
"We can't be seen and we can't draw attention to this floor, so if we open this door and you cut off the electricity from the entire building for a while, everything should work out just fine."
"So, you're saying: the cameras won't register us since there would be nothing to see," he translated.
"And, the power cut-off will cause a major commotion in the edifice—people will start to think all sorts of scenarios, probably that the Zoldycks are striking and that's the perfect decoy," I continued, hoping he'd approve, "you know the blackout will start a chaos in the auction-hall and nobody will notice anything but that."
"Claire—two things," he pondered, holding his fingers up. "Consider me using Godspeed to knock out whoever is in there," he said, gesturing with his thumb towards the entrance beside us. "Your path would be clear but if the electricity is completely shut off, how the hell are the database computers going to work?"
I bit my nails in frustration. "You could reactivate the power and well— destroy the cameras beforehand."
"They're ultimately going to notice the area from which the electricity malfunction started, do you know how many fucking people are supervising this thing? And not even the auction-hall mayhem is going to be enough of a distraction from that," he argued.
"Unless, there was another diversion, on some other floor...," I hinted, testing my idea.
His face went blank as he understood my suggestion. "I am not leaving you alone," he stamped immediately.
"I'll be fine, you know I will and you know very well that this is going to work," I asserted with no hesitation.
He was silent for a really long time as he just looked in my eyes. "You know there's going to be a time limit, are you even sure you know how to infiltrate the database?"
"I know and yes," I confirmed. "I have Isawa," she assured, tapping on the ear-piece twice.
He bit his lip in indecision but I knew he would give in at that point. "Never repeat that last sentence again, regardless of whatever context it's used in," he alerted, gazing at me in a very intimate way that made my heart skip a beat. "Be careful," he whispered in my ear before stepping back. For one delusional second, I almost thought he would kiss me as he was retreating, but in vain.
Instead, in the matter of seconds, he stepped towards the fingerprint recognition device, put his hand around it and suddenly a pitch-black view followed a brief droning sound. Until the dark abyss blazed with the God-like glow that Killua started emanating, the same as from that night with the whole hospital episode.
Within a single moment, he disappeared and I heard the sound of something metallic being smashed open, accompanied by a spree of screams and constant shattering which ultimately died down in under a minute.
Everything appeared surreal in that time because I couldn't seem to keep up with all the rapid happenings that apparently Killua was directing— and in the next instant, the power was back on along with nothing but utter silence.
About three seconds later, I realised I was wasting time with my stunned state and quickly got myself together and rushed in the widely busted portal in front of me. I was freaking out as I gained enough strength to actually make any sense of the sight in front of me: an infinite disarray in the largest room I had seen in my life.
The first thing I noticed, were the three enormous screens glaring at me, eating up more than half of the entire area. Next up was the consecutive line of smaller VDUs, followed by rings shaped arrangement of conjoined seats, each of which held an unconscious occupant. Finally, at the bottom there were rows and rows of what I could only identify as storage units.
I approached one of the small sized screens and attempted to look for anything similar to a port as my sight fell on the key panel, I froze on spotting yet another DFR right at the start and since the power had been cut off and then restored, the systems had all rebooted.
"Fuck, no, no, no—fuck," I cursed, looking around—not even sure what I was searching for. "Mr. Isawa!" I desperately tried to connect, but the motherfucker was apparently nowhere in hearing range. I don't know if it was a moment of absolute panic that lead to the thought, but I suddenly remembered Killua pointing at the electrocuted man's red badge and it clicked.
I swept the entire passed out staff with a concentrated gaze and almost immediately spotted the target. I had to run all the way to the other side of the room to reach the unconscious man, sporting the scarlet label on his chest. My next worry was to get the fairly huge asshole towards the recognition device, which for an eighteen-year old, underweight female was a real olympic task.
I was sweating like a pig when I finally dragged him to the DFR and just as I pressed his finger against the detector the loudest bang I had ever heard sounded from somewhere below me and I could've sworn I had just experienced a seizure.
It took me a long minute to realise that that was probably Killua and his meek definition of a distraction. The screens flashed, matching the entry and in that very blessed moment my ear-pieced beeped until I pressed the button.
"I am terribly sorry Miss Gaspardo, I had to use the restroom," Isawa's apology came within an instant.
"I hope you die in there someday," I seethed, taking the flash-drive that he had given me from the laptop carrier and examining the corners for a port. The thing about the JCI was that they were even pretentious enough to have their custom made keys to extract information from their databases and this flash-drive along with the directions that Isawa would be giving me, were the only real services he was lending us tonight.
"Fair enough," he yielded before dictating me to insert the drive.
The portable device perfectly fit in its slot. The next few minutes were probably the most tense I had ever experienced in my life as I followed each of Isawa's instructions and ultimately entered the internal directory.
"Just enter the name now and copy the data into the usb," he finalised and the calm of his voice made me want to secretly smack him, because I myself was on the verge of wetting my underwear.
I obliged to his command and located the required file in barely a second, I didn't even have the time to examine it but since it was the only one in its category, I rapidly made a copy and shifted it to the flash drive. I chewed on my lips while abusing the progress bar with my eyes as the data was being transferred.
Suddenly, my heart started pounding as I evaluated the thought that had just occurred to me. I successfully shut out the images that accompanied it in my mind as I submitted yet another name in the search engine: Ingrid Maslen.
It was a mere rough shot, but surprisingly a heavy folder appeared in the archieve. I bit my thumb once and shifted the second file to the drive as well. The prior conduct of the data was successful and I breathed in a sigh of deep relief as I waited for the other file to shift.
My ear-piece beeped again and I felt no comfort as I pressed the button once more and met with Killua's chaotic voice. "Claire—CLAIRE!" He shouted suddenly.
"What—what is it?" I debriefed, feeling my stomach go hollow.
"I fucked up—big time, get out of there right now," he bellowed breathlessly. "All the security is on its way to your floor, there's no way I can get there in time— get out, NOW!"
The blood drained from my face on hearing his words. "But—" I stammered, unable to understand my own inquisitive tone. "I can't," I said as my eyes swept across the progress tab.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" He roared, drowning in insane anger. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!"
"Killua—I can't, I just need two minutes—tonight would be useless if—"
"I want you out of there now, or I swear I will kill you myself," his voice ringed in my ears, venomous and horrifying.
My lips trembled as I glanced once between the door and the VDU. "Okay," I whispered before removing the ear-piece and thrusting it to the farthest corner of the room where it kept beeping madly.
My throat felt tight as I waited for the final thirty-seconds needed to complete the data transfer and just as the task was done and I had extracted the flash drive, an unmistakable sound of numerous footsteps echoed in the entire floor and for a moment I was sure that this was it for me.
The brunette felt the waves resonate with her heartbeat with their endless motion as she took in the sight, barefoot on the sand with her arms around her legs and her chin on her knees. She could almost taste all the emotions the water had invoked around it.
"Whatever you're trying to do, it's not going to work," announced a familiar masculine voice as she felt his chin rest on her shoulder.
"I felt like this is the place to be tonight, is all," she confessed, referring to the endless view of the beach stretching before them.
"The beach is actually meant for the day, this is law breaching," he mumbled, adjusting himself to her side.
"I know people who've been here at night," she suggested, taking a handful of sand in her fist.
"Claire," he warned, "it's useless, it won't do any good to either of us."
"Give me these two days Killua, give me my weekend—just show me what I could've had before you leave, I promise I won't ask for more," she persuaded, her voice lowering with every word.
He simply looked at her with something she couldn't decode. Eventually, he stood up and held his hand out to her, which she took.
He drew her upwards and spun her around as they swayed from one side to another. "How about we just relive one memory," he offered, keeping their movement in perfect harmony.
"No music, again," she complained, as he raised her hand and turned her around.
"Well, if you insist," he proceeded and she couldn't help but laugh as he started singing the same song they had danced to, nearly a year ago.
"Do you remember when I told you that we were never friends?" she recalled, letting him stir her expertly.
"Of course, the dramatic fits you have during your period are surprisingly hard to forget—hostile lies, etc etc," he commented nonchalantly.
"You knew I was lying?" she debriefed in surprise.
"Well, to put it modestly," he evaluated, putting his arms to her sides, "See Claire, you don't know things I've told you, I on the other hand, know things you've never even told me."
She stared at him for a speechless instant. "Why can't I have this, even for just a little time?" she whispered, putting her palm on his cheek.
He stopped moving and put his hand on hers, before gradually removing it from his face. "Think of us, you and me—as a wound, and in order to heal it, the rule is stop touching it. Claire, you might be able to get over it if we give this another brief go," he stated, gesturing between the two of them. "But I can't, I'm sorry."
She lacked words to respond to his, but as the waves crashed to the shore and back, the night dissolved in the sight on its own.
The only fucking thing I could think of as I struggled to keep my eyes closed and my body motionless as I lied among the endless lines of unconscious personnel was—boots and how I was going to buy myself five new pairs if I went out alive, because after this shit episode, I sure as hell deserved them.
I had had only enough seconds to slip into one of the staff member's black coats before I hastily positioned myself among them. In the next moment the whole hall was polluted with a million voices at once and I wondered what my mom's reaction would be if she came back and didn't find me there—I thought about Killua and how I wished that kiss would've happened, I also thought about Gon and how I would set him up with somebody if by the slightest of chances everything turned out okay.
My reflection-binge came to an abrupt halt as yet another, even louder bang sounded from nearby. I could almost feel the air shift itself towards the sound as another rush of noise faded towards the source of the commotion and I could tell that the room was empty of any conscious person without even opening my eyes.
Regardless, I opened an eyelid as a precaution and as my prior theory was verified, I sprinted up and towards the first opening I could find. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going and there was a very good chance that I'd be running into someone with my aimless race.
My mind felt constipated with all the pressure of everything going on around me and I was certain I would be passing out any minute now, when all of a sudden, I felt cold fingers curl around my arm and a hand over my mouth as someone swiftly caught me in one accurate motion and pulled me to a side; the next thing I knew was utter and total darkness and I consumed a little longer than I should have to realise that I was conscious and not blind, but the room I had been hauled in was completely unlit.
Except the first nano-second of this sudden assault, there wasn't another moment that I considered screaming because I recognised these particular freezing hands and inviting scent all too well.
Killua removed his palm from over my mouth and for a very long time all that I could hear was the sound of my rugged, uneven breathing. I awaited his tantrum to make its entry at any moment, but the silence dragged on without any sign of an ending.
"I'm sorry," I finally whispered, "I know you're mad, I was stupid and you can give me all the shit you want—I totally deserve it."
In my mind I had even assembled some of the lines he was going to use, but the quietude that followed my words left me in disbelief. The only thing that gave me evidence of his presence was his rising and dropping chest that was pressed against my back.
"Killua?" I was mildly terrified because when he we went dead silent, it definitely meant that he was at the peak of his rare rage. "I made a mistake and I wasn't thinking, I panicked and I should've listened to you, I'm sorry."
No reply. Nothing.
"Come on, yell at me but don't do this," I pleaded, once again securing no response at all. "Oh for fuck's sake Killua—say something!" I bellowed, revolving to face him.
And as a result, I could nearly picture how hard his jaw was set even in the darkness, as his grip on my arm tightened—I knew I was getting my doze. "You want me say something?" he demanded in a low and poisonous tone."You're a bitch Claire, do you hear me?"
"Well, that always works—" I remarked, deluded enough to think that he was done.
"Knock it off, you're an idiot," he seethed, his voice rising and dropping at regular intervals. "You can't cook a fucking meal without setting something on fire, hell you can't even heat a precooked shit without turning it into literal shit," he reprimanded in a single breath.
I wanted to ask him what all of that had to do with anything but I couldn't remember how to speak anymore.
"You can't walk straight—" he annexed with no pause, "you could've gotten caught back there, something could've happened to you but you think you're so clever and acute; fuck your mind that deludes you into believe that you're smart—YOU'RE A FUCKING MESS, and you know what? You sure as hell don't know that I'm crazy about you—" he stopped immediately as soon as he realised what he had just said.
"What did you say?" I questioned in a barely audible whisper.
There were a few wordless seconds after that, in which I wished I could see his expression. "I didn't say anything," he denied blatantly.
"You didn't say anything?" I repeated in disbelief.
"Yeah," he concluded with not even a single hint of hesitation.
I just nodded, blinking to control the sudden furious emotional episode I was experiences. "You fucking—" I commenced, planning on kicking him between his legs but before I could understand what was going on, Killua had crashed his lips against mine and had me glued against him.
I was in an utter state of bewilderment as I grabbed his collar and pulled him closer. He didn't retreat and there was certainly no intention of him doing so as his hand went under my dress and against my bare back.
The thing right now was that we were both very well aware that all hell was broken lose around us, but all I could really think of in that moment was how long it would take me to unbuckle his damned belt.
"Oh God," I couldn't help but breathe as he brought his hands to my knees and lifted me up to his level.
His mouth was just trailing down my neck when abruptly, he came to a sudden halt and gradually lowered me back to the ground.
"Killua, please don't—" I pleaded, but he put a hand on my mouth and dragged me behind him.
It was then that I processed the minute red spot that was a few paces ahead of us. "Don't move," ordered the voice and I promptly lost all the feeling in my legs. "Reinforcement is on it's way," he announced as he snapped his fingers and the lights came on, exposing the monotonous room we were positioned in. "Don't even think about it," came his next warning as he caught Killua's slow pace. "I'll shoot her before you make it halfway and even if you manage, there is no way you're getting out of the building."
It was then that my sight fell on the speaker's face and my whole body went numb for an instant. Slowly, I stepped forward from behind Killua's back and just stared at the dark-haired, boy who couldn't be older than twenty-three. "Luca?" I tested, feeling an intense pain in my throat as I spoke the word.
He responded to my call by meeting my eyes and I could almost hear the click in his brain as swiftly scanned my features. A stunned look invaded his visage and he automatically lowered the gun he had had pointed right at me. "Claire?" he whispered, prevailed in shock.
I couldn't bring myself believe any of this; it was like this entire night was simply a series of consecutive slaps from my past. It seemed as if someone was mocking me—the more I struggled to escape it, the more it all came crashing back on me like a weight that I couldn't even imagine lifting.
"What are you doing here?" he asked breathlessly, present and real as he stood right in front of me.
"I—where did you go?" I questioned instead, something irrelevant and unnecessary—but nevertheless, the first thing that came to my mind.
He just glanced at me with about a million aspects marked on his face until he spoke at last. "I have to get you out of here—they're coming," he finalised, pushing all the other matters out completely.
I legitimately knew nothing about life and I realised that as my brother bent down on one knee and on pressing his palm against the floor, materialised what appeared to be a hollow trap door right at the tip of his hands.
"Get in, now!" he ordered, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards it.
"Killua!" I reflexively said, looking back to see him walking towards me.
"Right behind you, go," he assured, conveying indirectly that he considered this man, that I just happened to know, trustworthy enough.
I stared at Luca, not understanding what I wanted from him. "You—if I—" I tried to make sense.
His hand shifted from my arm to my fingers as he bored his gaze into mine. "I'll see you again, trust me," he assured, abruptly lugging me to towards him and into the void like entrance.
The succeeding event was Killua helping me out of the anomalous portal, into total mayhem. I discerned it as the huge parking area we had left a few hours ago as Killua zoomed across the place, dragging me behind him.
There was a startling commotion all around and inside the edifice and before I knew it, I was being pushed in the passenger seat of a car by Killua. "What about Gon?" I demanded perplexed.
"They're not letting anyone out," he quickly informed, rushing to the other side and entering the car. "And there's no time to get him out," he added, starting the car in a frenzy. "Let's just hope they haven't blocked the main access of the premises."
"But—you're going to leave him?" I screamed in incomprehension as car reversed.
"Shut up, Claire!" he commanded as he raced ahead, loosening him tie with one hand. "Do you actually think I'd ever abandon him like that? We had already planned that he'd be meeting Kurapika after the auction—he's staying here in Yorknew and I'm taking you home, then heading back here," he explained, his forehead glazed with sweat.
I could literally hear the tyres screeching with the abusive speed he was dragging the car with, however we had to come to an abrupt stop as we registered the tremendous entrance, sealed right before us.
"Fuck," he cursed before getting out and darting to a side
It was with careful observation that I came to understand that those were electric gates and as Killua reappeared he effortlessly kicked an entire section of it out of sight before getting back inside the car.
"Did you step in front of cameras?" I demanded in stupor as he propelled the mobile forward.
"No darling, that's why I had to do that little Houdini endeavour: to get rid of them," he stated, with his foot glued to the accelerator. "Although the number plate was exposed so I have to get rid of this car and the registration."
I stared at him for a moment before realising something I had missed before. "What did you mean by heading back to Yorknew?"
He didn't look at me when he uttered his next words. "We're going stay here for a while, before we know where to go next."
I couldn't understand his implication. "You're staying—you lost the bet," I reminded, feeling incredibly stupid all of a sudden.
"I made a mistake," he amended immediately and it was almost like he had slapped me on the face.
"You can't do this to me."
"I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to happen but I got carried away," he kept defending, not even having the guts to look at me.
I sobbed without intending to as I unfastened my seat belt. "Stop the car," I ordered, lacking air.
His head shifted to me on registering my motion. "Sit down."
"Stop the car, right now."
"No," he answered unflinchingly. "Put your seat belt back on and stop acting like a child."
"How dare you!" I shrieked before hitting him on the shoulder, "how can you do this?" Repeatedly smacking any part of him I could reach.
"Stop—stop it," he commanded, grabbing my fist with one of his hands.
I perceived my tears only when my fingers made their way to my eyes. "I HATE YOU!" I bellowed, feeling helpless and idiotic. "I don't wanna look at you, let me get off this fucking car Killua—"
"I don't care," he answered back, "I'm getting you back home and after that you can do whatever the fuck comes into that deranged mind of yours, but until you're with me shut up and don't you dare make a scene," he seethed, glaring at the windshield.
I felt my soul shiver at his words and couldn't bring myself to speak after that. My body shrunk in the seat as silent tears rolled down my cheeks all the way home. I detested him with every cell in my body, but what disgusted me was that if he'd ask me to beg him to stay, even now, I'd do it.
The two-hour ride home reached its peroration in the matter of instants, with a heavy quietude infecting its entire essence and as he parked outside my house, I couldn't bring myself to believe that this was how things were going to end between me and Killua.
When I had made the ridiculous bet with him, I had duped myself into believing that when he'd be about to leave, I'd ask him for one last kiss and he'd doubtlessly give it to me and ultimately lose. It had seemed absurd then and it seemed absurd now as things had shifted completely, and yet he was minutes away from leaving me behind forever.
He exited the car and walked to my side to open the door. I could only stare at him and ache with the knowledge of how much I loved him, and how I never even got to tell him that once— and never would. "Please," I implored in a weak sigh with my sight dropped to my lap, ready to do anything at all to make him change his mind.
His face did crumple for a very brief moment, but he didn't meet my eyes; instead, he took my hand and gently forced me step out, there was definitely no sign of him even fathoming to reconsider his decision. So, instead of ripping myself up even more, I gradually paced towards the door, hating everything about tonight.
"Claire?" he called quietly and I didn't want my heart to skip a beat at his voice, but it did.
"Yeah?" I asked, wiping my face as I spun around to face him.
"Please don't do anything stupid," he begged, guilt saturating his irises.
I sniffed and cleared my throat before talking again, feeling my heart drop into my chest. "Yeah, no—I won't."
"Do you promise?" he further added, I hated the genuine concern in his voice.
"Yes—I won't, really—you don't have to worry," I convinced, passing a hand through my hair. "There's a folder in that flash drive, other than that of Gon's dad—could you send that to me?" I remembered, changing the topic for the sake of my mental health.
"I will," he assured, thrusting his hands in his pockets, "where is it anyway?"
"Uh—back pocket of the bag, to the left."
"Right," he added, not moving from the spot.
"Tell Gon I said bye," I recalled, trying not to make the small talk more awkward than it already was.
"I will," he repeated with a short nod as he stared at the ground. "Well, I guess this is it."
I felt a knot in my throat at his statement and couldn't control the pricking in my eyes. "Yeah—yeah, it is."
He heaved a sigh after a long silent glance at me. "Take care of yourself, Claire," he finally said, turning around and heading to the car.
I wanted to respond with something proper but suddenly all I could think about was any single way I could make him stay. The last few months of life had felt like a chess game with him and losing the game now meant losing him and—
"Killua, I love you!" I at last disclosed without a thought, with my eyes shut tight and my entire body trembling at the realisation that I had just made myself completely vulnerable to him as warm tears trailed down my face.
There was no answer and I didn't really expect one, just waiting silently for the moment the car door would shut, I wondered when would I ever get the strength to look at myself in the mirror again.
As several noiseless seconds passed, I finally mustered enough courage to open my eyes, only to see Killua staring at me dumbfounded, in a state of complete immobility. "What did you just say?" he asked in a faint whisper.
My heart began abusing my rib cage at the mere trace of hope on processing his reaction. "I love you—I'm in love with you," I echoed once more, trying to keep my words comprehensible through the involuntary sobs.
His eyelids trembled at my confession and he took an indecisive step towards me that made my head pound with suspense and fear simultaneously. "Say it again," he pleaded in an uneven timbre.
I tried to remind myself how to breathe in that moment. "I'm in love with you—"
Before I could even complete the sentence this time, his lips were on mine and his arms had caged me from every side. I couldn't believe the thrill I was experiencing, I couldn't comprehend the bliss I felt as he kissed every part of my neck.
I was caught in between a state of disbelief and terror: horrified of the thought that at any moment he would draw back or I would wake up realising that this was nothing more than a sadly detailed dream.
He lifted me up, putting my legs around his hips as he walked forward, leaning against the wall of my house but never losing contact with my mouth in the process.
I pushed him back with all my strength, feeling my skin burn as I extracted my keys from my bag and trying to keep my mind clear enough to unlock the door. My trembling fingers caused me to fidget with the keys and ultimately drop them and before I could reach for them, Killua had already retrieved them as he pushed me out of the way, opened the door and took me inside—both my hands tight in his.
The night was embedded with more thoughts than the stars hung on the moonlit sky that cast its infiltrating rays though the window glass, right by which he had her pressed against the wall—chest to chest and heart to heart.
Distance was a very absurd concept between them as he touched parts of her skin he never had before and she held on to him as if she held on to life. There was nothing more real and nothing more indefinite than her shivering hands as she removed his coat, his firm fingers as he undid the zipper of her dress—never taking their eyes off one another.
She craved him like air, the moment he watched her as she unbuttoned his shirt, but he halted her struggle by pressing his lips against her her mind felt like nothing more than a midnight dream on a winter night.
It was when he grabbed her wrists that she ceased her motion and bored her gaze into his. "I can't," he breathed lowly, kissing lower down her neckline.
"Please—don't," she started, feeling his words drop on her as the dark on a brilliant sunset.
It was his breathless laugh that followed her plead as he caressed her cheek. "I can't think straight," he amended, "I can't control myself—if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, stop me right there," he instructed, his lips brushing her shoulder.
"I want everything," she declared with her shaky countenance as she grabbed his neck and kissed him with everything she had. "Every part of you."
She reminded him constantly of the summer rain: a destined clash between warmth and feeling—energy and desire. She was everything that had killed him and revived him time and again. She was in his head and he was in her heart, and their souls touched that night as neither of them had any words left to express their emotions any longer.
He drew back several times, when their hands were intertwined and she lied under his heart, to see if there was a speck of doubt in her eyes, but all he saw was his own reflection glaring back at him with all its might and— helplessness in his own stare.
"I love you," she whispered one last time and he took the words from her mouth into his own because those were the last ones spoken for the rest of the night.
Two souls merge and shadows part:
her selfish mind and his selfless heart.
As of now, this story is officially on hiatus and I won't lie to you, there is a fair chance that I might stop writing altogether but I promise if you do want to me to continue, I will try my best to find the time. I know the plot is incomplete and it's unfair to abandon everything right here, but I really don't have the time or motivation left to do this story justice. Completing this last chapter has been the hardest thing I've probably ever done, but I figured I owed you guys this final piece because without your love and amazing support, I wouldn't even be writing in the first place.
In case this is actually the last chapter, I really really want to thank you for everything, and I read and loved each and everyone of your reviews (I didn't reply, I know, but I feel really insecure while responding to people sometimes; I'm really sorry for that). Anyway, if you did like this chapter, I'd love to know what you think of it and a million hugs to all of you. A super special thanks to my amazing beta Lani, my beautiful friend Yui for being there and to my irreplaceable Aqib for being this story's dad. But most importantly thank YOU, your feedback gets me through bad days and makes good days even better!
Writing this story has been an incredible experience for me, by developing these characters, I've understood my own flaws and traits and my vocabulary has expanded so so much; I've explored emotions and loved every moment of it. So, briefly, thank you infinitely.