You are Darkness

Chapter 12 - Breathe

It was just blood, Illumi had probably seen more of it than even some of the best surgeons on Yorkshin, but as he stared at his pale hands covered in that crimson sticky fluid, all he could think about as he felt the water run through his fingers was that this blood was Hisoka's.

He'd seen the magician bleed multiple times since they first met. Fights and trouble chased him wherever he went, and he enjoyed every bit of that. Illumi was never worried; he trusted in his friend's strength and skills like no other. Yet, he never got to tell him that. There was so much locked inside his chest that he wanted to say, but he never considered it important. He assumed Hisoka knew most of those things, like how much he admired and looked up to him. He also hoped that the clown could never guess other feelings that lay deeper in his soul. The bitterness of regret was so intense that Illumi felt on the verge of nausea.

Later, as he sat restless and anxious, shards of the past went running through his memory like a relentless electric current. When they were young, Hisoka would run all over the mountain, pirouetting and jumping around him in a desperate attempt to make him smile. The magician was loud and would never shut up when he had an idea. But he was also a skilled ally to go on missions with and a permanent presence providing stability in Illumi's life.

"Do you think you could kill me?" He'd asked Illumi once, as they were relaxing after tagging along on a mission.

"Yes," Illumi answered. "Easily."

"Would you?" Hisoka's voice was soft and dipped in an uncharacteristic sadness.

"If I were hired to kill you, I'd do my job."

"Ah, I see."

"Do you want to die? You seem to enjoy life," Illumi turned to face him. He looked pale under the moonlight. "You even enjoy it too much for my taste." That was a lazy attempt at a joke, but Hisoka usually laughed about anything. That was not the case; the magician only produced a melancholic smile as he stared into the emptiness of the night sky.

"Sometimes I'm too tired."

"I am tired too," Illumi answered without fully comprehending the meaning behind those bitter words.

Now, as he sat there feeling useless and waiting, he understood what Hisoka meant, and a chill ran up his spine. His hands were clean, but he couldn't stop seeing them covered in red; he remembered Hisoka's body temperature descending along with his heart rhythm. He remembered, and that wall of solid brick he'd made for years to contain his emotions came crashing down with a deafening ringing in his ears.

Illumi dropped his head on his hands; he couldn't afford to make a scene in the middle of the hospital, so he went to the nearest bathroom walking as if nothing was wrong. He was holding on to the last pieces of sanity he had left, making everyone ignore that he was a broken man about to fall apart.

Locking the door behind him, Illumi saw himself in the bathroom mirror. For the way he was feeling, he assumed that his face would at least be an echo of his emotions, yet there he was, perfect and composed; exactly what a Zoldyck should be. He was disgusted.

Illumi remembered all those nights as an infant, crying in his pillow, trying not to make a sound. "A Zoldyck mustn't cry," his mother had enforced that knowledge through tortuous beatings. "You're an assassin, and feelings are a weakness." Yes, everything was a weakness, friendship, love, any kind of attachment. His only responsibility was towards his family. His fucking sick, twisted, toxic family.

Only after his hands felt warm, Illumi realized that the mirror was broken and he was bleeding profusely from his palms. He stared at them and noticed a few clear drops landing on his injured skin, washing away the crimson like the tide that takes away what's forgotten on the beach and buries it into the sea. Something inside him snapped, and the tears streamed down his face at such rhythm that he could barely see anymore.