Chapter Text
“What the hell are you doing here?!" Kurapika's heart is racing, and his thoughts flash even faster, trying to calm himself, to make a reasonable decision— he can't fight Chrollo here, if the other Spiders are on the ship it would put Woble and Oito in grave danger, as if the accursed succession battle wasn't enough— he can't do it. And he promised. He promised his friends he wouldn't, but—
This is the man who took everything from him. He can feel his eyes turn red even though his body is too exhausted to maintain that state—
"Exactly what I said. I came to offer my help as a bodyguard."
Chrollo did say that, before Kurapika forcefully dragged him into the servant's quarters; hopefully Oito hadn’t heard them from her bedroom.
"And you think I won't tell Queen Oito exactly what you are?"
"You need my help. Both with guarding Prince Woble, and with taking down Tserriednich."
Kurapika scoffs.
"I'm not planning to take him down. All I want is the eyes. And I'd rather die than accept your help."
"Clearly you're not aware of what kind of person he is."
"Him being a human parts collector tells me enough," Kurapika spats. "Although it's not nearly as bad as someone who murders and mutilates people for fun."
Chrollo doesn't look offended; Kurapika can't tell if he even recognizes that as a jab at him and the Troupe.
"Exactly," he says smoothly. "He is quite enthusiastic about the latter, he considers it art. I'm very familiar with people like him."
"Your best friends, right?" Kurapika says dryly.
Chrollo gives a saccharine smile. "Depends on your definition of best friend. They're all dead."
Kurapika pauses. What does Chrollo mean by that? Did he kill them? That doesn't make sense, these types of people must be his clients. But— it's not like he fucking cares.
"I will convince him to give up the eyes, just like I did all the others. I don't need your help."
"Don't fool yourself. You're barely holding it together," Chrollo's voice is surprisingly soft. It only irks Kurapika further, especially because deep inside he knows it's true. The only reason he hasn't lost his cool is because he's too fucking exhausted. The others are all dead after the Nen lessons went awry. It's just him now, and he barely sleeps. He's been overusing Emperor Time and his Nen in general. He's too tired to even properly get angry in front of the person who took everything from him. How pathetic is that? "I'll help you to protect the Prince, and all I ask of you is help with Tserriednich, which also aligns with your interests."
Kurapika frowns. "What do you want from him?"
Chrollo presses his lips together, an absent look in his eyes. For a moment Kurapika thinks he's not going to answer. He's already opening his mouth to snap at him when Chrollo says, "He has something that's been haunting me most of my life."
Kurapika doesn't even have the energy to protest that cryptic answer. Whatever. As long as it doesn't threaten his friends or innocent people, he doesn't give a damn what Chrollo is up to. He's still going to kill him— just not yet.
Right now, Oito and Woble are his priority.
"Queen Oito will decide," he says tersely. He can't bring himself to lessen her chances of survival but he sincerely hopes she won't accept Chrollo's offer.
~*~
Unfortunately, Oito welcomes Chrollo's help, after making Kurapika verify the truth of Chrollo's words with the Dowsing Chain. Kurapika doesn't even have the time to be upset about being forced to work with Chrollo; a woman claiming to be a messenger from Prince Camillia attempts to harm Woble, and Chrollo kills her before she can do anything, easily proving his usefulness to Oito. At first, Kurapika is furious with him, tells him they could've questioned her, but Chrollo explains that the risk of keeping her alive was too high. She would use any opportunity to kill, she had no regard for her own life, and one of her abilities was suicide related.
"How do you know?" Kurapika asks suspiciously.
"I'm serious about helping you," Chrollo answers brightly, and conjures his book. Kurapika tenses, clenching his hands into fists. He's seen the recording of Chrollo's fight with Hisoka, he knows just how dangerous this ability is. But Chrollo simply shows him a bookmarked page. "I activated this skill before the new students came in. It allows me to sense people's real intentions. The more time I spend with them, the clearer it is."
Kurapika can't deny that's an extremely useful skill. And it explains how Chrollo chooses new Spider members. He must've learned his lesson from what happened with Hisoka.
He wonders if Chrollo can tell Kurapika still intends to kill him— just not now.
A phone ring startles him, distracts him from his thoughts.
"Kurapika," Senritsu speaks when he answers, her tone urgent, a stark contrast to how serene she usually sounds. "There's something you must know. Can you speak right now?"
He glances at Chrollo, motions for him to give him some space. To his surprise, Chrollo obliges with no protest.
"Yes."
"It's about your clan."
His heartbeat picks up and he squeezes the phone harder in his hand. "What is it?"
"As you know I recently received an invitation." To prince Tserriednich's quarters, he knows. Senritsu is being cautious, not mentioning his name. "Kurapika... promise me you'll be careful. That person's heartbeat... I have never heard anything so terrifying."
Kurapika almost wants to laugh. Senritsu has once said something similar about Chrollo, and the man is literally a few feet away, working with him. Far too late for him to be careful. Whoever Tserriednich is, he doubts he's more dangerous than the leader of Phantom Troupe himself.
"Tell me what happened."
"I saw his... collection. It's not just the eyes. He also has...a head," her voice trembles as she speaks. "It is... was a young boy, I believe." She exhales a shaky breath. "From the way he described what happened, I think there's more to the story, and it’s something far more dangerous than the Phantom Troupe. Kurapika, promise me-"
Kurapika hangs up.
~*~
The next thing he knows, he hears Chrollo's voice through the roar of his Nen in his ears, the man's arm firmly wrapped around his middle, holding him in place, preventing him from leaving the quarters. He struggles against him, furious at the audacity he has to try and stop him. The fact Chrollo can do it so effortlessly only makes it worse.
"Let me go!" he yells, voice shaking with rage.
"I know how you feel," Chrollo says, low and soothing, "but if you go there now then all your efforts so far were for nothing."
"You can't possibly know!"
"I do."
"How dare you say that!" Kurapika's rage only intensifies as he struggles against Chrollo's grip. "You, of all people— there's no way you could ever understand! Let me go or I'll make you regret it!"
"If you act recklessly now, what will happen to Prince Woble?"
That makes Kurapika pause. He frowns, panting, trying to clear his head. If he dies or kills Tserriednich... who will be left to protect Woble and Oito? Not to mention, the other princes might think he acted under Oito's orders. They will consider her a threat. He stops struggling, then grabs Chrollo's wrist, pulls his arm away. Chrollo doesn't resist, clearly sensing Kurapika is somewhat calmer.
Then Kurapika turns to glare at him. All this fury directed at him and Chrollo doesn't even blink, completely unfazed.
"Tell me what you mean," he says through gritted teeth, voice only slightly more controlled. "That you know how I feel,"
Chrollo stares at him impassively, his expression impossible to read, and Kurapika is sure he won't say a word.
But then— then Chrollo speaks.
~*~
Kurapika's breath is still shaky, his heart clenched painfully, but for a different reason now. He sympathizes, he does. But if this is what Chrollo went through, then why... why would he do something like that to Kurapika's people?
He thought Chrollo was incapable of human emotion, that he's always been like that. He already knew not all Spiders were heartless monsters, but Chrollo, the man who ordered all the killings— he had to be.
Finding out it's not true, that Chrollo's initial motives were not much different from his own, only makes things worse. Because Chrollo knew, he understood, how much pain his actions caused, and he still did it. Uvogin clearly told him that Chrollo ordered the attack.
"Why?" he whispers. "Why did you...." kill them, he almost asks, but is there a point? Regardless of who he was as a child, the man Chrollo is now doesn't need a good reason to kill someone, and it's very possible he was like that when the massacre happened. He liked the eyes, that's what Uvogin said. But... "You killed and tortured children." Kurapika can't stop his voice from shaking. It hurts, just thinking about it, and with what Chrollo just told him, it doesn't make sense, any of it. "Even if you didn't do it personally, you allowed it. You became what you despised."
Chrollo's expression doesn't change. Kurapika is suddenly reminded of that time in the car, when he felt as if there was a wall around Chrollo, one Kurapika could never see through, and nothing he could ever do would affect him. As if he wasn't human. Just like then his hand itches to punch Chrollo, if only to get any kind of reaction out of him. But things are different now, and he holds back.
"This is what following revenge leads to," Chrollo finally says, so softly Kurapika barely hears it. It still hits a nerve.
"Why my tribe? They never caused you any harm! They wanted nothing to do with the outside world!"
"I can't answer that without angering you further. If you want to know exactly what happened that day... It's likely you will find answers in Tserriednich's 'collection'."
Kurapika hesitates, examining Chrollo's face. Chrollo's expression is calm and as distant, as always. But there's something in his eyes...
He only notices it now. Chrollo looks exhausted, and something about him is different. At first glance, he seems as composed as ever, but it's as if he's holding something back, something so overwhelming it's difficult to hide. He looks more worn out than he did back in York New. But at the same time... less hollow.
Like there's something here that he absolutely has to do. Is it why he's been so open, actually answering Kurapika's questions? Does he really need his help?
At the very least, he can tell Chrollo is not lying.
"Why didn't you say anything before?"
"Would you have listened?" Chrollo asks, and Kurapika can't deny he probably wouldn't have. "Either way, we were involved. Your revenge was justified. I could have deceived you to believe otherwise, some Troupe members would certainly appreciate it. But..." a shadow passes through his face. "Not Uvo-san or Paku, they wouldn't," he finishes quietly.
Kurapika clenches his hands, fingernails digging into his palms. He doesn't know what to think. He hates the Troupe, hates them with every fiber of his being. This information shouldn't change anything. They're still murderers. His family is still dead. And yet... he feels like he wasted all these years focusing on killing the Spiders when something even more sinister could be behind the death of everyone he loved... and he didn’t even know.
He leans back against the wall, hides his face in his hands. The chains jingle, reminding him of his resolve. The limit he put on his ability.
Why did he never do any in depth research on what actually happened? He was so focused on finding anything he could about the Spiders he didn't even consider finding out what really happened. He was such a fool.
The note he found on the chef's body... He never thought much of it. He refused to consider the possibility that it had any meaning. It was a revenge note, wasn't it. Whose revenge? The Troupe's? It didn't seem like it, Uvogin would remember otherwise. Meteor City's?
Chrollo's?
Was it something he didn't even tell the other Spiders about? Was it connected to Sarasa? Did someone frame his people? He refuses to believe they deserved what happened. It was senseless slaughter. What if they were blamed for something they didn’t do? Or something— something that happened a long time ago. Does Tserriednich know what happened? If what Senritsu said is true... if he has a head... he could've been involved somehow.
Who really was behind it all?
He suddenly realizes he's shaking. He feels like he was played, like a toy put in a puppet spectacle, acting out an endless circle of hatred and death, while the audience laughed at the irony of it all. What was the point of everything he’d done until now? He lowers his hands to glance up at Chrollo.
Did Chrollo feel the same way too? Maybe a long time ago, before he became— who he is now.
This is what following revenge leads to.
Kurapika shudders. He's already decided not to make revenge his priority. His priority right now is protecting Woble and retrieving the eyes. And... the head. He feels sick just thinking about it. As much as he wants to barge into Tserriednich's quarters and demand answers, doing so would destroy the delicate power balance and nullify all his efforts to keep Woble alive.
"The videotape," Kurapika says, voice rough. "That's what you're after, isn't it?"
Chrollo's eyes widen just slightly. He doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. Kurapika knows; Tserriednich most likely has Sarasa's tape. And he has the answers Kurapika wants.
He lets out a heavy sigh, braces himself for the decision he's about to make. He already allowed Chrollo to help Oito but that is different from actually agreeing to cooperate with him. But if he doesn't... will he ever find out the truth?
"I assume you have a plan?"
At that, Chrollo smiles.
~*~
"A play?"
"Miss Senritsu was invited after she performed, wasn’t she?” How does Chrollo even know that? Kurapika is baffled, but he doesn’t bother asking. “If we combine our performance with our Nen abilities, we'll be able to capture his interest."
"You sound confident," Kurapika says, tone full of doubt.
"I am an actor, after all. And I have an idea for a play that will match Tserriednich's... tastes in art. He won't be able to ignore it."
Kurapika narrows his eyes. "What do you mean? Are you planning to dismember me on stage?"
"I'm sure you would prefer our roles to be reversed." Chrollo’s tone doesn’t change, but a glint appears in his eyes. Is he being… playful? "But I have an ability that will be useful for this occasion. It allows me to conjure any illusion that I’m able to imagine in detail. No real dismemberment required."
"Ah, so you will be imagining cutting me into pieces," Kurapika says dryly. "How reassuring."
"Is this performance fit for the public?" Oito asks. Until now she's been watching the exchange in silence, cradling Woble in her arms while the tea Kurapika prepared for her sat on the table, growing cold. "There will be children present."
"I will make it as non-graphic as possible to convey the... message," Chrollo says. He sounds different when he addresses her, smoother, and more reserved at the same time. The difference is subtle and Kurapika is surprised by how stark it seems to him. Is he this attuned to Chrollo's tone and body language?
Of course he is. Despite accepting Chrollo's help, instinctively he still doesn't trust him. It's not something that can change so soon— or ever, for that matter.
Oito looks concerned, but she doesn't protest further. No surprise here. She's willing to put up with anything to assure Woble is safe, and it seems she's aware of how powerful Chrollo is. A moment later she excuses herself, heading to the bedroom. The tea is left untouched.
"We have six days until the next banquet," Chrollo says as soon as she disappears behind the door. "I will write the play today. That gives us five days to practice."
Kurapika frowns. There's something strange about all of this. Why does Chrollo even bother with this farce? He could just take what he wants and disappear, the way he always does.
"Why don't you just torture and kill him? Isn't that how you lot usually solve your problems?"
"Do you really think he'll react to torture the same way most people do?" Chrollo asks. The amusement ringing in his voice makes Kurapika scowl. "There's nothing we can threaten him with, either, no one he cares about enough. The only way to obtain information from people like him is to get close to them." His mouth tightens, a shadow passing his eyes. It lasts less than a second but startles Kurapika all the same. "Once they let their guard down, they are eager to brag about their achievements."
It's clear he's speaking from experience. Get close to them. Just what atrocities did the Troupe have to commit to gain trust of such people? It's no wonder they became so desensitized. Is this why Pakunoda learned to read minds? So they would have an easier way to get the information they needed?
And all for a little girl. Countless lives, just because one little girl died. Is it really fair in their eyes? No, he thinks, there are a lot of awful things to say about the Phantom Troupe, but they are not deluded. They know what they are.
Villains.
"I still don't understand why you need my help. You can handle your business with him alone, and so can I."
"You're underestimating him," Chrollo's eyes widen. "A lapse of judgment. How uncharacteristic of you."
Kurapika can't tell if he's genuinely surprised or just mocking him and it gets on his nerves. He grits his teeth. He already feels ridiculous enough, sitting at the kitchen table with the leader of Phantom Troupe over a cup of tea. Granted, Chrollo is the only one who drank it— actually, that's the worst part. Kurapika made him tea, he even added sugar and milk as he requested. How did he end up like this? What a joke.
He stands up abruptly. "I'm going to get some rest. Watch Queen Oito."
Chrollo nods, unbothered by the open hostility in Kurapika's voice.
"I'll let you know when the play is finished."
~*~
When Kurapika wakes up, the room is completely dark. He feels well rested, and he's hungry. He must have slept for hours. He can sense a presence in the room and he doesn't even need to open his eyes to know it's Chrollo. The fact he always smells like expensive cologne... he must be very confident in his abilities, seeing it's a dead giveaway of his presence.
Kurapika doesn't move, keeping his breath steady and he slowly opens his eyes. He makes out a figure sitting on the edge of the opposite bed. Chrollo is resting his chin on his folded hands, his shoulders slouched, elbows propped up on his knees. His eyes are downcast and he seems lost in thought. It hits Kurapika again, how different he looks. Like something is weighing him down. Like he's... suffering.
Then, suddenly, Chrollo straightens up, his face shifting into that pleasant, neutral expression he always wears.
"You're awake," he says.
Kurapika raises himself onto his elbow. "Queen Oito?"
"She and the Prince are in their room, asleep."
"How long was I out?"
"Twelve hours."
Kurapika sits up. Twelve hours. How could he sleep so soundly for so long? Is it... because he knew no one would be able to harm Woble with Chrollo here?
How ironic. Him being able to get good rest thanks to the presence of the Spider's head. He sighs. He doesn't even feel like contemplating his life choices right now.
"I'm going to shower and eat something, then I'll take over and you can get some rest."
Does Chrollo even sleep? It seems such a mundane thing to do, too human for the leader of the Phantom Troupe.
But no. He already knows every Phantom Troupe member is human. Maybe humans capable of monstrous deeds are even more terrifying than monsters.
"Of course," Chrollo says. "The play script is on the kitchen table. Please take time to memorize it."
"I will."
~*~
"You want me to act a woman’s role," Kurapika says a few hours later. Chrollo has just emerged from the shower, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants, his hair still damp with water as he sits at the kitchen table opposite of Kurapika. Kurapika wonders if he slept at all. He doesn't look tired but Kurapika has a feeling that he would, if there was no one around to see it. It's as if he's able to make subtle visual changes that match his... performance. Maybe it's something that comes to him naturally, similarly to Bisky's appearance.
"You have experience with that, don't you?" Chrollo says brightly, stirring sugar into his coffee. "You did manage to deceive me. I'm sure you will do amazing."
Kurapika glares at him.
"A woman who's in love with your character. The story is a romance." With a very dark twist, considering the love interest is a serial killer who creates ‘art’ pieces out of his victim's dead bodies. But still.
"What else did you think it would be?"
"I don't know. A detective story?" Kurapika frowns. "I'm not a good actor in the first place. And asking me to pretend to be in love with you..."
"Would that be such a problem?" Chrollo leans forward with a smile. "I've been told I'm quite handsome."
Kurapika stares at him, stunned into silence. Does this guy think this is funny?
"That's not the problem here! Do I need to remind you what you've done?!" He can't even say it out loud at this moment, doesn't want to even think about it because then, sitting here at the kitchen table with this man will become something he can never forgive himself. It's better not to think about it now.
"I remember it well," Chrollo says calmly, picking up his cup and taking a sip. He then sets it back down and adds another sugar cube. "I remember what you've done, as well. I thought we were already past that conversation."
Kurapika's blood boils. "You never explained anything to me! I still don't know— don't know what really happen and why you did it!"
Chrollo is silent for a moment, studying Kurapika's face, his eyes as unfathomable as ever.
"Why do you want to know?" he asks finally, with what sounds like genuine curiosity in his voice. "Are you looking for more reasons to kill me, or," he gives a hint of a smile, "a reason not to do it?"
With a burst of anger, Kurapika stands up from his chair, slamming his hands on the table. "You— don't you dare even suggest—"
"Kurapika." Chrollo interrupts, fully serious now. "I don't wish to anger you. What I told you was the truth. You don't want to hear it from me. It's best if you see for yourself." His eyes slide to the door, then back. "Let's not give the queen more reasons for worrying."
Kurapika’s anger dissipates, and he lets out a long breath. He knows. Fighting Chrollo right now would be foolish. It was just distressing to hear because deep down he's scared it's true. That he's looking for a reason not to kill Chrollo. Even if it's just so he can justify his current actions and let go of the guilt eating him up... it's despicable. Unforgivable.
How can he betray his brethren so?
"We're not past the conversation," he says quietly as he sits down again. "We've never discussed what I've done."
Chrollo raises his brows. "I've told you; your anger was justified. I don't hold it against you."
"Really? Isn't your other goal here to kill Hisoka?"
Just for a brief moment, Chrollo's mouth tenses, his eyes narrowing. He recomposes himself almost instantly; Kurapika would miss it if he blinked.
"That’s correct. I see what you're implying. However, Uvogin sought you out on his own accord. Pakunoda made her own choice. What Hisoka did was different. Shalnark and Kortopi were taken by surprise and defenseless."
"Because you took their abilities?" It was just a guess. He knew the Spiders used a copying ability to fake their deaths. He wasn't sure if it was that same ability he saw Chrollo use on the arena recoding, and if it was something that always belonged to him or was borrowed from another Spider.
Chrollo gives a small smile. "You don't mince words, do you?"
Kurapika stares. It's not the answer he expected. Chrollo is keeping his tone leveled but there's no mistake, he can hear it, the barely concealed pain and guilt. So he's blaming himself for their deaths. That explains why he seems somewhat less composed than before. Kurapika knows all too well what a mix of guilt and anger can do to you. The helplessness, the burning need to do something, anything— even if it's completely self-destructive.
Why does he keep finding similarities between them?
Except…
"If you care about for people so much, how can you think so little of everyone else?"
Chrollo gives him an impassive look. "People in Meteor City mean nothing to the world. Why would the world mean anything to us?"
His eyes are cold; he fully means it. It’s disturbing, but at the same time, Kurapika almost pities him.
"That's... a cruel logic."
Chrollo's lips twist in a smile. "There’s no logic behind it. It’s as obvious as breathing. It's what life is when you grow up in the world's trash dump, where your worthlessness is determined before you take your first breath."
Kurapika shudders. He never thought of it like that. He does think the world failed the people who live there. But... surely not all of them grow up to be mass murderers.
He decides it's best to change the subject.
"Why put Tserriednich as your priority?"
"You already know. It’s the tape. An older goal," Chrollo says softly, "one I already gave up on pursuing. I thought it didn't matter anymore because we took our revenge a long time ago." His eyes lose focus for a moment and Kurapika is painfully reminded of that hollowness he saw in them back in York New. "But there was a lot we didn't know back then. And I believe... the key, along with the tapes, lies with the fourth Prince."
"Then you understand," Kurapika says, "why I must know what happened to my clan."
"I never said I didn't. I promise I'll do whatever it takes to help you."
Kurapika scoffs at that heartfelt declaration.
"Because it benefits you."
Chrollo's eyes crinkle in a smile.
He doesn't answer.
~*~
"Your beauty outshines a million stars, my lady," Chrollo says, taking Kurapika's hand in his, the hold so gentle he feels like he's made of glass. "You are a true gem, I am simply enchanted by your loveliness. Your presence is like a breath of fresh air, you brighten the room with your charm and grace. I would be most honored if you would grace me the pleasure of a dance."
Kurapika tries to stay in character. His line is supposed to be, you flatter my appearance but have you ever looked beyond it? Or something like that. But as he looks at Chrollo's face, his eager smile and hopeful eyes, he suddenly can't find his voice. He is really a very good actor, the performance is co convincing Kurapika almost believes it. And he is very handsome. Kurapika hates himself for noticing it.
"I can't dance," he blurts out. "And I've never been in such a situation, I don’t know how to act."
Chrollo raises his brows. "No one has ever complimented your lovely appearance?"
Kurapika huffs. "You can stop acting."
"Who says I'm still acting?"
Kurapika has no idea what to say to that. Is Chrollo genuinely complimenting him or just messing with him? Not that he cares what Chrollo thinks of his appearance. He never stops to think about it, either, except— except for his eyes.
"Can you edit out the dance part?"
"Oh, absolutely not." Chrollo's eyes glint mischievously. "It is a metaphor for sex, after all."
Kurapika yanks his hand out of Chrollo’s grasp, his face turning hot. "What?" he hisses. Chrollo laughs. Despite his annoyance, Kurapika catches himself thinking it's a surprisingly nice sound, warm and deep and—
No no no no no. Why would he ever think that?
"Don't be nervous. Just relax and follow my lead." Chrollo take’s Kurapika’s hand in his again and places his other hand on Kurapika's waist. Kurapika tenses but forces himself not to pull away. He will not show Chrollo that this is affecting him in any way.
"I am not nervous," he hisses. "It's just— unnecessary!"
"Please." Chrollo takes a step back, gently pulling Kurapika along. Kurapika briefly considers stepping on his foot. "I thought you had an appreciation for art?"
"You think your play is art?" He's proud of himself for not stumbling as Chrollo continues leading him across the floor, the pace growing quicker with each step.
"Of course. It's an expression of my soul."
Kurapika feels himself falling more and more in sync with Chrollo's movements. Chrollo is really good at this. Kurapika would never admit it out loud but Chrollo's strong arms and gentle guidance make him feel graceful and elegant, even though he still has no idea what he's doing.
"Ah, so you do want to cut me into pieces, after all."
Chrollo laughs again. It sounds even sweeter now, slightly breathless. Kurapika is stunned into silence as he watches Chrollo's face while the room spins around them. He's so different right now, so bright and carefree, his eyes sparkling with mirth. As if, in this moment, he's free. Of what, Kurapika doesn't know. Don't the Spiders do as they please?
"The last scene is meant to entice Tserriednich. I do not wish to dissect you literally." Chrollo’s eyes glint playfully. "Only metaphorically."
Kurapika blinks dazedly; for a second he forgot they were in a middle of conversation. He hopes Chrollo doesn't notice the flush warming his cheeks.
"Whatever does that mean?" Chrollo is difficult to keep up with— both in physical and mental dance.
Chrollo stops abruptly and Kurapika almost stumbles— but Chrollo steadies him by pulling him closer. For just a second, Kurapika forgets. He's so warm, he finds himself thinking. He smells good. His heartbeat and his breath are a little faster than normal, just like Kurapika’s. He's...
A mass murderer, he reminds himself firmly, taking a step back. When he looks up at Chrollo, he's still smiling, but his eyes are once again dull and impossible to read.
"It means I wish to know you."
Kurapika swallows, his throat dry. He has no idea what to make of that.
"Why?"
A crease appears between Chrollo's brows. "Why indeed?" he says quietly, as if only to himself. Then his expression smoothes once more. "I believe you need another dance lesson."
Kurapika sighs. If someone told him a few months ago he'd be taking dance lessons from the Phantom Troupe leader...
It’s difficult to even think of Chrollo as the Phantom Troupe leader right now. That was the man Kurapika was supposed to kill. But this person, this Chrollo...he can't kill him and he can't ignore him. He has no other choice but to be civil with him if he wants to get closer to Tserriednich without putting Woble in danger.
That's what's confusing him because.... how can it be this easy to get along with him?
~*~
"You keep doing it," Kurapika says. "Your face changes whenever I look at you."
"What do you mean?" Chrollo tilts his head, a picture of cluelessness. Kurapika does not buy it. He saw it from the corner of his eye, even though he was focusing on memorizing his lines— Chrollo looked tired and upset. But the moment Kurapika looked at him, his face changed. The transformation was almost eerie, as if he was a shapeshifter who could dissolve his former expression at the mere gaze of a human.
"Something's bothering you," Kurapika says, deciding that direct approach is the only way to get any semblance of truth from Chrollo. "And you don't want me to know."
Chrollo raises his brows, his eyes dull. "Or maybe I just like it when you pay attention to me."
Kurapika sighs. Why does he even bother?
"If it's something that can intervene with our plans, you better tell me."
"Don't worry about me." Kurapika doesn't bother protesting, even though the mere suggestion is preposterous. "I’d be more worried about you. If Tserriednich extends the invitation only to you, you have to avoid any kind of confrontation. And I'm not sure if you will be able to keep your cool."
"And if I don't, what is it to you?"
"You'll get yourself killed."
Kurapika narrows his eyes to glare at him. He refuses to be intimidated.
"I’m sure you'll find a way for my death to benefit you so that you can get close to him. I'm not one of your Spiders, so why would you care?"
He watches Chrollo raise from the armchair and walk over to stand in front of the couch where Kurapika is seated. Kurapika doesn't know what reply he's expecting, but it doesn't come. Instead Chrollo leans down, staring at him, his eyes curious. "Why indeed," he says as he reaches out to touch Kurapika, his fingers gentle as they caress his cheek.
Kurapika inhales sharply, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. He doesn't know why he's not pulling away. He feels his heart flutter as Chrollo's eyes lock onto his, his gaze intense. He slowly runs his fingers over Kurapika's cheek, tracing the contours of his face with a delicate touch. “Is it because you’re beautiful?”
It's enough to make Kurapika snap out of it. He grabs Chrollo's wrist and pulls his hand away.
"Don't," is all he says, putting all his grief and confusion into that single word.
For a moment Chrollo looks almost surprised — by his own actions or by Kurapika's reaction, Kurapika isn't sure. Then he smiles, and steps away, and the tension in the air seems to dissolve.
"I apologize. That was out of line."
Chrollo carries on as if nothing's happened, but Kurapika can't stop thinking about it, can't focus on the script, his thoughts racing in his head.
Because he can't understand why, when Chrollo touched him, he didn't want to pull away.
~*~
"Could you hold Woble for a while?" Oito walks into the living room, cradling the baby in her arms, rocking gently back and forth. "I have to prepare for the banquet but I just nursed her and she needs to be held upright for a bit."
"Of course," Kurapika says, putting the script away. He's been reviewing it constantly even though he knows his lines by heart and there's nothing else he can prepare. For some reason, he's nervous about tonight, and he's not sure if it's stage fright or some sort of bad premonition. He's actually thankful for the distraction.
"I'll look after her for as long as you need," he says, gently taking Woble from Oito's arms.
Oito nods, gracing him with a faint smile, before she disappears in the bathroom.
Kurapika looks down at the baby in his arms, her chubby cheeks and big eyes that sparkle with curiosity. He can't help but smile as he watches Woble's little fingers grasp at the fabric of his dress, and he gently brushes a strand of soft hair away from her forehead.
"One could think you're her mother," he hears Chrollo speak and then soft footsteps approaching him from behind.
"I don't think the dress you chose gives off a motherly image." He still doesn't know where and how Chrollo got it; Oito does not wear such clothes. The dress is white, covered in intricate details, from the tiny lace trim along the hem, the satin ribbon cinching his waist, to the delicate beading along the bodice. It makes him feel like a doll. That's the point, of course. He is supposed to be a doll. A psychopath's perfect plaything.
The thought disgusts him.
"It's perfect for the play," Chrollo says, standing next to him. "And you look beautiful in it. Although, you'd look beautiful in anything." He states it so casually, like it's a fact. Kurapika is annoyed at himself for being affected but he can't stop the blush from spreading on his face.
"It better be worth it," he mutters. "I feel like a stuffed bird."
"Beautiful clothes are seldom comfortable.” Chrollo looks down at Woble, squirming and cooing in Kurapika's arms. "Still no sign of a Nen Beast?"
Kurapika shakes his head. "Sometimes I get glimpses of... something. But I might be just imagining things."
Chrollo hums, watching Woble attentively. She notices him and her gurgling becomes livelier as she reaches out towards him. She is insistent, grunting and squirming in Kurapika's arms.
"I think... she wants you to hold her," he glances at Chrollo warily.
"I suppose she knows the view will be better from up here.”
"Ha ha," Kurapika says, deadpan, but he passes Woble to Chrollo, who cradles the child carefully in his arms. She gazes up at Chrollo with curious, bright eyes and coos happily. Chrollo smiles and starts to gently bounce Woble, making her giggle. She seems content in his arms, continuing to coo and reach out towards his face. Kurapika watches the scene, speechless. Chrollo playing with a toddler is definitely not something he ever expected to see in his lifetime.
Just as Kurapika attempts to ignore the unexplainable warmth spreading inside him at the sight, Woble lets out a loud burp and some milk spills from her mouth onto Chrollo's shirt.
Chrollo freezes, his eyes turning round, his mouth parting in surprise.
"Did— did she just puke on me?"
"Relatable," Kurapika says, barely holding back laughter. Chrollo's startled face is priceless— it's not an expression he often shows and Kurapika can't help but notice how young he looks like this.
"Is she alright?"
Kurapika bites his lip, amused by Chrollo's bewilderment.
"It's just baby spit up, it's normal," he reassures. "Wait here, I'll bring paper towels."
When Kurapika returns to the room, he finds Chrollo holding Woble at an arm's length, like a bomb about to explode, something akin to a pout on his face, while she giggles and kicks her feet in delight, evidently proud of herself. The absurdity of the situation is just too much, Kurapika can't help it; he bursts into laughter.
"Well, I guess even the infamous leader of the Phantom Troupe isn't immune to a little baby vomit," he teases as he wipes Woble's face and then attempts to clean Chrollo's shirt, laughter still bubbling inside him. Chrollo is quiet, and when Kurapika looks up, he finds Chrollo watching him with a soft smile. He's seen Chrollo smile before, but this is different. It's not that pleasant, artificial smile of his. It's gentle and sweet, his eyes uncharacteristically soft.
Kurapika feels his heart jump in his chest; he swallows, looks away, willing his heart to stop this ridiculous fluttering.
Even if he's now being gentle with a baby, it doesn't change the fact Chrollo has murdered countless people. His disregard of human life is nothing short of terrifying. Kurapika has been far too relaxed around him. He may not hurt Woble right now, but that's simply because it's not in his interest.
And Chrollo looking at him like that... he can't let himself acknowledge it any way.
Just like he can't acknowledge the giddy warmth blooming inside him in response to that look.