Those Cute Ghosts... They Haunt Me?

Chapter 6

An: I just wanted to get this chapter out before things start getting hectic again. BUT unfortunately this story is still on hiatus, my exams are coming, and I probably won't have time to write at all. My exams will finish on 4th of June so I will probs start writing again then. Sorry for the bad news... but I hope everyone enjoys the chapter!

Killua sighed as he stared at his phone. Gon's name and contact details stood out from the screen. He was nervous. He had never texted someone who wasn't his family. Gon could be a future friend if he played his cards right. He just had to be careful. Slowly, he brought his thumb down to press on the little message icon next to Gon's name.

You: Hey. Just thought I should let u know I got back safe.

And send. The omega breathed a sigh of relief. He hoped he had sounded normal or whatever. Did he sound too formal maybe? Killua bit his lip. What even was normal?!

Gon: Typing...

Killua's eyes widened. He didn't think Gon would reply so quickly! Shit! He wasn't ready for a full -ass conversation. Panicked, the white haired omega quickly threw his phone so that it hit the couch and walked to the other side of the room.

Conceding that he needed to get his mind off of Gon, Killua decided to explore the warehouse a bit more. He looked up. The warehouse was two stories, consisting of an attic and a ground floor. Killua hadn't believed his luck, the place had been fully furnished with couches and chairs and places for storage (not that he had many things on him), not to mention the decorations and all the things the previous owners had left behind. And it was abandoned!

Now seemed like a good time to go through all the boxes and bags in the attic. When Killua had first found the warehouse, he had known it had belonged to some musician or another because of the instruments and the music equipment he had found in the warehouse to the side of the couches. And if he was being honest it was the grand piano that had drawn him to staying in that particular warehouse. 

He had missed playing piano.

He remembered when he had first seen someone play the piano. It had been at a concert. He was supposed to kill the manager of the band, who apparently sold drugs separately as a hobby. Not that it mattered, he would be killed and that was that; the Zoldyck's had taught Killua to never get attached to his targets, which could have been anyone. 

But the pianist. He had played so well... and so passionately that Killua just had to stop and listen. It had been what had gotten him into music. His mother, delighted by his newfound passion, had bought him a piano with the equipment for composition to boot. It had been great. He would write songs and sing them whenever he felt suffocated by emotions. A lot of them were sad. Killua walked to the piano, letting his hand drag along the surface as he walked past it. 

It really was beautiful. 

Killua frowned, remembering when things had started to get too much. It had started when his mother had taken music from him. He remembered the whips and lashes he would get whenever he tried to write songs or play his piano. It apparently had something to do with him having to take on the responsibilities of the 'successor'. 

But he didn't want to be the successor! He wanted to write songs and sing, and be a normal kid.

He let his hand slide to the lid of the piano, smooth and well used. His hand lingered there, small and dainty against the sturdy oak of the piano's hood. His lip trembled, as he lifted his hand and slowly walked past the piano.

Dammnit! 

Even though he had run away. Even though he was free to play music now for as long as he wanted and was away from his family, he still hesitated. He couldn't bring himself to play. Every time he so much as touched the piano he couldn't help but think of the extended torture training he would endure after.