Your Eyes ||Kurapika x Reader||

Thirty Seven || Frail Hands

-Art by kuronaken on Instagram-

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It was a stormy afternoon when I was sat in the billiard room, listening to the news and to the hail pelting every window in the estate. I fidgeted with the steel revolver in my hands, spinning it through every one of my worn and scarred fingers, as I observed the woman with sea-foam green hair ramble about the Hunter Association.

I could only recall a few of the things she was mentioning, something about the result of the chairman election, before my mind drifted off once more. It never occurred to me how much about the outside world I had been missing out on because of my job. August is almost over. I had discovered the details of the tragic events that took place during the Chimera war embarrassingly late. It appeared that Gon and Killua were also involved in it in some way from the ridiculous amount of missed calls I had gotten over the past few months from both Killua and Leorio. Unfortunately, due to my busy schedule, I never had time to call back.

In fact, I never even checked my phone until recently. Ever since that battle with Hisoka so many months ago, the mission to retake the Scarlet Eyes had gotten a whole lot more serious and fast-paced. Things moved so quickly that before I knew it I had worked away my entire summer without a single day to relax.

A sigh echoed through the room as I turned off the television midway through Cheadle Yorkshire's speech and closed my eyes. Just as I let myself relax, the door creaked open.

I sat up as Kurapika made his way over to me. About to speak, I silenced myself upon noticing how weary he was. The dark bags that hung under his tired eyes only added to how fatigued he looked in addition to his pale, skinny body. He had this dismissive, offhand aura about him that made you want to steer clear in fear that he was someone not to disturb. The sight made me rather upset.

"I just finished putting away the last pair of the Scarlet Eyes in that church." He muttered while taking a seat on the leather sofa next to me.

Pursing my lips, I placed a hand on his back gently. He looked at me and gave me a sad smile. "How's your wound doing?" I asked finally.

The Kurta only hesitated before placing a frail hand on his chest over his slim waistcoat, "Fine. Don't worry about it too much."

"How could I not worry," I scoffed as I thought back to the exact day Kurapika had been shot. God, how terrifying an occurrence I was. We were all really convinced that he was about to die when a certain flesh collector managed to shoot him in the chest, barely missing his heart, while we were making our great escape with the stolen pair of Kurta eyes. If it wasn't for Basho and I rushing to carry his immobile body while Melody covered us, Kurapika may have just bled to death.

We sat in silence after that. Neither of us uttered a word as we stared at the wide pool table in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

As I stared into the distance, lost in my own thoughts, I could feel a slim hand place itself on top of my own. Head turning to Kurapika, I let out a light breath. The blonde took my ghost of a smile as an invitation to intertwine his slender fingers with mine. With just that brief contact, we both once again returned to sitting in our comfortable silence as our own thoughts bombarded our minds, however, this time, with the reminder that we had the other right there by our side.

It was rather pleasant, sitting there with Kurapika in a comforting silence. After living almost an entire year full of nothing but bloodshed, constant stress and dangerous battles, it was nice to just sit back for once. If only I had known back then that this is how my life would have turned out, but, then again, I wouldn't really like it any other way; even though I've always despised the work I'm forced to do here, I'd do it all again, given the chance.