Revenge (Kurapika x Reader)

Twenty-Two

The day is at its epilogue, the sky as vivid as every night, the colors caused by the sun gloaming from rest from the world. Leaving only the twinkling stars to keep us company, in the ink of the heavens. Such a pleasantry the midnight hours bring to the spirit. How the night sleeps on even as I stare, awed by the same sky I gaze upon each night, still bringing me a sense of tranquility even after all the years I've lived. The sky wishes me to sleep under its watch, yet I do not comply, like everyday, since childhood. What guidance the airspace has provided, only my imagination I suppose, but nonetheless helpful in some fictive-storybook sort of way. 

The day of work never seemed to end today, the time trickling by so slowly I felt like I had aged fifty years. I am so glad the tedious day has almost come to a close, so I may finally rest (hem, staring at my phone all night). Kurapika is late to return home, I assume this is a usual occurrence, seeing as he's still at work everyday after I leave. What is he doing I always wonder, surely he can't still be completing work from the previous hours of the day? Perhaps he is looking into the Phantom Troupe further, I doubt he rarely ceases this search. Thinking back, I sometimes come upon him in the later hours ferociously typing at his work computer, the screen always reading some sort of information, presumably about the Phantom Troupe's whereabouts. How frustrating it must be, to pursue a group that conceals themselves from the world so well. Hidden somewhere just beyond his grasp, living as his esse drains from the crusade of vengeance. I so wish he would end this altogether, and exist in harmony with his losses. I however never see his quest coming to a end in the near present, his goal is set and he is determined to see it through, unwavering even though it causes him such strife. Just stop it, stop quietly killing yourself for ones who have already seen the end, please. Is this a selfish thought, why should I come between him and his desire. But, is it really selfish if he's impairing himself, perhaps permanently? Me interfering could be a favor to his sanity. Truthfully, I cannot comprehend how he has not lost his wit altogether. His deprivation of intimacy has greatly impacted his perception of relations, and how to be vulnerable to others. And even, I think, himself. As I think to myself so very often, he must accept and press on from the tragedies of his bygone past. To undertake the pain of shouldering the expiry of his decent. Oh, so much simpler to think of what one should do instead of bringing the thought into reality. But, he has to do this himself, I cannot control his decision. Well that is not entirely true, but I will refrain from messing with his mind, for that is the respect he deserves.

My brain is filled to the brim with thoughts, too many thoughts for me to take. Why must I continuously stress about problems that are not even my own? It should not be for me to worry about, yet I still cannot get them out of my head. Oh Kurapika, why do you still travel down this path? Will vengeance ease the pain, or only lead your poor heart to be dowsed with it. 

I let out a breath, easing my head into my hands, trying to get myself to relax. So many things have happened in the last few months, too many for me to comprehend. I lift my head, and begin to make my way over to the kitchen. Food fixes problems, or what I should say is it distracts from them. I open the fridge to grab whatever I can lay my hands on, anything will do at this point. 

I return to the couch, not entirely satisfied with my findings. Why does it not surprise me that Kurapika only allows the most disgustingly nutritious foods in his home. Sure, it's helpful for keeping up strength, but quite the opposite for soothing a troubled mind. Because how, oh how will eating a fucking apple help digest my woe into extinction? Yes, I am eating an apple currently, not a single ounce of processed food in sight. Not only to mention that, Kurapika's fridge is empty, and I mean EMPTY. How does he even survive? I must get him some groceries, otherwise I worry he will quite literally starve to death. Well there I go again, worrying about the blond boy who seems to eternally lives in my mind.