Apathetic (Hunter X Hunter Chrollo Fan fiction)

Retroactive Grief

A/N: I'm just dropping by with an update since our professor's late for classes. (–_–)'

I forgot to ask you guys last chapter because I was still upset over TLK but, how are you doing? Take care of yourselves better people! I know these times are hard, maybe not as equally challenging for all of us but still hard nonetheless. So pull yourselves up and hold on a little bit longer. :)

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Retroactive Grief
". . . What should I do?"
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"Where are you going, Nike?" Hades asked.

Somewhere you aren't around. "As I thought, I can't stomach any of this shit anymore. It was a mistake even coming back in here."

Deimos stood up authoritatively. "Sit back down, Nike Danni—!"

"DO NOT! CALL ME BY THAT NAME!" Nike's voice boomed, effectively silencing the immediate area around her. She lifted her head, her bloodshot eyes meeting her father's before she spun around and left.

I have to get out of here. Anywhere is better, anywhere but here!

It's suffocating.

It was always like this. The reason why Nike always ran away from home was that the Mafia stopped feeling like a home to Nike a long time ago.

Her relationship with her family became distorted — her faith, loyalty, and morals dissolved into muddy feelings. If she were to say what exactly she felt for them, the most fitting description would probably be hating and loving them at the same time. Nike never knew such emotions could exist equally within a person. Or she's probably only confused. How was she to know anything about love anyway?

The first real love she ever knew had already perished. It was sweet and warm, like the delicate kiss of the sun when winter lifts its curtains. But just as how snow melts, that love was fleeting. The warmth it gave her had easily flitted away like dry leaves crushed in the tight hold of a hand before being blown by the wind. Now, it's left her nothing but stabbing bitterness.

And now, her second chance at love is bound to be taken away. She could feel it. It was instinct; a strong intuition of a bad omen. She could hear the sounds of the clock ticking, like it was reminding her of how little time she has left, to hurry or she'll be miserable again.

Still, Nike couldn't do anything. No, she doesn't know what to do.

Fuck. That old man Kratos is right. I can't believe I'm this indecisive! Nike gritted her teeth in frustration. If I don't do anything, even Kena might–!

"Tsk!" Nike clicked her tongue when some bastard collided with her. It was quite an impact since she slightly staggered. Nike managed to balance herself because if she didn't she would've tripped and sprained her ankle thanks to these silly shoes. "Watch where you're going, asshole!"

"Maybe if you were watching where you were going yourself, then you wouldn't bump into me. Are those eyes for decorations?"

Now, Nike was irked. She was just planning on ignoring him but now this fucker just had to speak. "I'll pluck out yours and turn them into decorations," she spat, but as soon as she met the man's gaze, she froze.

No, no, no. . . This can't be happening.

Vibrant sea-green eyes with specks of gold, eyes that only belonged to people with the Medeira Blood flowing in their veins.