Who's the Clown now? || Hisoka x Reader ||

Chapter 29 - The end

Chapter 29
The end

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I wanted my grave to be a subtle one. Without anything that would have people distinctively remember me. No gravestone, no flowers. No name, no date. Nothing that would create the assumption that I were still there, living in the future as the past. And yet I knew that he wouldn't have wanted that.

-

It was a typical November morning, the clouds seemed to suck up the roofs and the trees appeared so naked, it made me shiver. The breeze that occasionally blew pierced through my clothes and created a feeling that was comparable to staring into the eyes of a hungry predator. The cold was only waiting to slowly eat your body up, bit by bit. I walked on, through the large metal gate, away from the small flower shop to the left. There was an old lady who tried unlocking its front door, yet her hands were so weak and so pale and so cold she desperately tried aiming for the key hole, without luck. I walked on, through the high bushes, which now were nothing more than millions of small arms aligned in a random way and held together by cobwebs. Through the first rows. The graves here were large, they were ominous. Marble gravestones, golden letters, large flowers that looked like spilled paint in this black and white scenario. I didn't stop to read the names, nor the dates. The grave I was looking for was at the very end of the last row in the last quarter of this godforsaken place. As I went on, my steps echoing through the quiet, which was everything but calming and actually rather unsettling, the graves appeared simpler. Smaller gravestones, less gold, less color. Maybe a bouquet, but if so, it was dried out or covered in frost. They were placed so close by another that you couldn't tell which name corresponded to which gravestone. The cobblestone under my feet made a screeching noise as a turned away from the main path and let myself drift into one of the smaller ones at the side, perpendicular to the one I was currently on. The grave was at the very end. The grave. Aside from all I said before, I knew he deserved a better one than I ever would. I brought three large bouquets, colors being red, purple and pink. The name was spelled in not gold, yet white bold letters across the not small, not large gravestone I decided on.

I never thought that I would buy something as ironic as a gravestone at all in my life, and if, not for someone like him. Then again, I never expected to fall in love either, so I guess I cant really say anything. Life hits you in all the right ways at all the wrong times. My fingers were numbed by the coldness, but I didn't stop assembling the flowers. And then kneeled down to look at it. My work. My fault. My loss.

Ive seen people die. Ive killed people. Ive seen the people I've killed die. Ive heard their screams and their pleading. And I turned my back on them all without another thought. I cannot remember a single name of someone who's life I've taken. Old, young, man, women, child. None. That's why, when Illumi stabbed through my chest, I had already made peace with the thought of dying. It was calmer than living. Easier. More peaceful. Yet Illumi didn't pierce through my heart. He pierced through my soul and took it with him.
Blatantly the fight wasn't counted. All three...All two of us were disqualified. Banned from the arena even, which appeared to be a quite drastic decision. When it happened, the entire audience fell into a silence that felt more like a time bomb ticking, counting down the seconds before going off. And then it went off. And the screams filled the room. Screams of fear, of excitement, of shock, of anger. They all mixed. And I heard nothing. I only saw the dead body of the man I loved in front of my knees.

I hadn't planned on ever watering these flowers, yet my tears seemed to have do the job. I cried as long as I could, and all that was left of me was a whimpering and empty shell. I was so cold, and so tired, and so broken that even if I tried, I wouldn't have gotten up. Why not die with him? That thought crossed my mind too many times in the last hour. And when I thought I was finally weak enough to do so, finally broken and finally shattered, I couldn't. I couldn't, because the thing that filled my shell with so much warmth was the simple sight of a pink shadow, and long hands, and broad arms and a crazy, wicked, evil smile. A grin to be exact.

"Stop crying sweetheart." The shadow whispered.

I always told him what a clown he was. A clown for loving me, a clown for looking, speaking, tricking, plotting and acting like one.
But now? I asked myself.

Who's the clown now?

The end