A Proposal To Wed

Part Fifteen

Feitan had grown up in poverty.
It was the crippling kind, where even small pleasures were far beyond reach. He had only had himself.
Shalnark had stumbled into his life by chance, and Feitan's life had taken a turn. He began looking for odd jobs to make quick cash. He wanted to make the Omega happy.
It was under these circumstances that he was approached by a man in a suit with dark, unnerving eyes. He and Shalnark began to work for this man, assisting him in the occasional heist or occupying the man's nephew, who was only a few years younger than they were.
It was under these circumstances that Shalnark had met Uvogin. They had been so young then; Feitan, believing that he stood a chance. Shalnark, believing that there was a way that he would not have to choose between them. It had strained their relationship, and he had lost Shalnark as a companion. He accepted the darker jobs after that.
The jobs that, had he had much reason to live, would have kept him up at night.
It was under these circumstances that he had come to trust Chrollo. The younger man was so open, and he had a touch of light amid his darkness that Kuroro lacked. He had potential. Feitan had envied him his naivete at first, but had eventually come to see it as what it truly was; faith in him. He had not had someone rely on him with such unwavering trust in a long time, and it changed him. Changed him in ways that his boss didn't like.
It was under these circumstances that Feitan had sworn in secrecy to serve Chrollo. He waited patiently for every opportunity to prove himself, and took no chances when it came to potentially breaking that trust. Shalnark was still a sweet thought lingering at the back of his mind, like the smell of flowers drifting faintly across a battlefield.
It was under these circumstances, these fateful promises and vows of sacrifice, that he found himself in his current situation.

He watched as Chrollo spun, avoiding the blade by mere inches. He sat, undetected and unwilling to move until he was certain it was the proper time. He had learned, over the years, that patience meant the difference between life and death. He watched his master dodge the dagger, using his Nen to try knocking Kuroro off balance. He watched as they circled each other, his ears picking up the sound of Kuroro's voice and the snarl that tore from Chrollo's throat. He watched as Kuroro lunged.

It happened as if in slow motion. Feitan tensed and sprang, rolling into his landing and rising in a fluid motion that spanned barely a second. He stepped to the left, his right arm arching above him with the silvery gleam of the blade clenched in his hand. Blood splattered across his face, and Kuroro stood and stared at him for what seemed like eons.
Feitan looked into the eyes of his former master as the life drained from them. He felt the blood soaking his feet; his legs, his stomach. It was not all Kuroro's, he knew. He slumped slightly as Kuroro fell, the man's head finally sliding off of his shoulders as it should have long ago. Chrollo caught Feitan against him, falling to his knees and propping him up.
"Feitan, you..." Chrollo began, looking down at his loyal guard; his trusted friend.
Feitan let out a shaky breath, looking up at Chrollo. "Boss. Promise me..."
"Promise what? Anything, Feitan." Chrollo whispered, his heart still thudding rapidly. Feitan's face grew paler by the second, the hand that Chrollo moved to clasp growing ever colder.
"Tell him..." Feitan said, coughing through the blood that now trickled through his lips. "Tell him I made it."
Chrollo nodded, tears falling from his eyes. He looked down at Feitan as his breathing grew difficult, the blood working it's way into places it shouldn't be. Feitan managed a weak glare, gripping Chrollo's hand loosely.
"T-tell him."
"I will." Chrollo said, holding his friend close as his body began to stiffen and chill. "I will Feitan."

He sat there for hours, unable to move now that he knew Kurapika was not being followed. Feitan's body was like ice, and his blood had thickened and dried in the places where it was spread thin. Chrollo's muscles ached as he made to stand, setting Feitan's upper half on the ground carefully. He returned home only to retrieve a shovel.

When he was finished, he threw the shovel to the ground and clenched his fists. He ran a hand through his hair, his breaths coming out quickly as he looked upon the body of his uncle. He grit his teeth and let out a broken scream, unleashing his Nen energy in a devastating whirlwind. Deep gashes were torn into the trees that still stood, and the clearing had been destroyed. Chrollo stood untouched amid it all, the fading scratches the only sign he had been injured at all that night.
He wondered, in the calm after his outburst, if Feitan had thought it was worth it. Or perhaps if he had thrown his life away finally, like he had wanted to do so long ago.
He wondered if things could have been different. If, perhaps by some stroke of luck, Feitan could have disarmed his uncle and killed him afterwards. If only things could have gone that way. If only no one had to die at all.

If only.

//925 words.
// I published the last chapter like, 20 minutes ago. However, I'm letting that cliffhanger stew for a bit. Anyways, what do y'all think?
//awesome, right?

//oho, I'm back to this chapter after so many months. Ya'll are gonna be pissed when you read how long I've had this chapter. Buuut, I needed to edit it! And also, I was sick after finishing this, and a fever dream had me absolutely convinced that I had published it, and I never really checked. Oops.