Scarlet | Kurokura

Cold

We are back again with the TW because I love to stuffer so you will too (Its nothing too bad dw)

Kurapika felt nauseous. He had vomitted all over the ground in the corner of their room. His pale face was met with the wall that seemed just as white as his own skincolor. Having downed the wine earlier, his stomach really couldn't take what was presented to them. The blonde heaved, trying to get a hold of himself while wiping over his mouth. He barerly registered Chrollo saying a name, his head was ringing. The sight of a body hanging in a rope down from the ceiling, their face probably unrecognizable and the life sucked from them... It threw Kurapika back to a time he had managed to forget for a long while. There was a time in which the Kurta himself, having lost his entire familiy at such a young age, had contemplated dying.

At that time, his Clan had been eradicated for maybe a month. Unsure of what to do, Kurapika had wandered around. The Kurta Clan had strict rules about when and under what conditions to leave the forest they lived in. Therefore, the little boy barerly knew the cities and its citizens. He was a stranger to the world and now completely and utterly alone. But every living being had to eat at one point. So after starving for a great while, the blonde had no other choice but to socialize. The sadness hung over him. It was noticeably in every fiber of his body. In one of those cold nights, the Kurta finally broke down under the weight. It was an impulsive decision, a pathetic attempt to flee from what had turned out to be his new life. He too, had grabbed a rope that night. But Kurapika never managed to kick the stool away he was standing on. He stood there till the break of dawn with a rope secured around his neck.

No one had taken this decision from him. A decision he was way too young to make. That morning, Kurapika lied on the cold floor, crying for guidance. Crying for his parents.

The Kurta snapped out of his daze as something soft, silky touched his cold shoulder.

"Kurapika?"

Chrollos voice rang into his ear, gentle and deep as always. Right now, he was carefully wiping away the blood that had dropped onto Kurapikas skin. The Kurta had goosebumps all over his body. A loud clang! and the now bloody tissue had fallen to the ground. The slap with which the Hunter had moved the foreign hand from his shoulder was hard and his own hand shook violently. The back of it was red, showing just how aggressively the motion had been. Chrollo looked a bit stunned and a bit dumbfounded. It was a rare look on the thief's face, in any other situation he would have looked rather funny. Kurapika wasn't even mad.

"Don't call me that!"

Kurapika hissed but the anger he felt was a fleeing emotion. Another attempt at conceiling the terror he was actually feeling. He should have been mad. Had he not instructed Chrollo from the very beginning not to call him by his name? He had been so afraid of what would happen if the other dared to call him by his birthname again. But now that Chrollo had crossed the line, he couldn't even bring himself to feel outraged anymore. Kurapika was at a loss.

When had it become so hard to hate Chrollo Lucilfer?

Chrollo said something but Kurapika couldn't process anything anymore. Maybe it was because Kurapika unconsciously avoided a lot of things in his daily life but the Kurta only now realized how easily triggered he got. Was it really that bad? Hadn't he always shown a solid front? His vision was blurry and his chest felt terribly tired. Breathing became harder with each passing second.

Why was it, that everytime Kurapika found himself on the verge of breaking down, Chrollo pulled the last string? Like an unstable house of cards that seemed fragile to begin with, he went over to give it the last, defeating blow. And as if all of this wasn't enough, as if Kurapika wasn't hurting badly enough, the very reason for his pain decided to cross another line.