Part 2
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Chapter 1

///

You have not heard from Illumi in a week.

You texted him three times and called him twice. He did not responded to any of your attempts at contact, when normally, he can't wait three minutes before replying. You can not help but fear the worst—did his mission backfire? Does he need help? Is he hurt? Or worse, dead?

The thought makes your eyes sting. After spending so many years almost constantly with Illumi, not hearing from him is strange and painful.

You just hope that he is okay. The knowledge that he is a Zoldyck, one of the best and strongest assassins in the world, reassures you. Maybe he is just taking some time off.

As of now, you are trying your best to enjoy your free time in your new hotel room, but it is hard when you can not stop worrying about him. The freshest thing in your mind is the memory of him knocking you to the ground, slapping you, and then kissing you.

You pause, thinking about the memory again.

Just then, there is a knock on your door. You heart skips a beat; what if it is him? You immediately stop your free time activity and dash to the door, nearly stumbling in the process.

But when you open the door, the ominous figure standing in the hallway is not Illumi at all.

"Well hello there."

It is Hisoka. Tantalizing eyes glide over your figure, even though you are dressed in your lazy clothes. You exhale, gripping the door handle hard.

"Hi."

Hisoka brushes past you, nudging your shoulder with his bicep. He glances around the room, which is larger than your last one. You got a suite this time.

"This is a nice one. How long are you planning on staying here?"

"I d-don't know," you reply, closing the door behind him. Hisoka's presence makes your heart race, for whatever reason, which is why you stuttered. "But I agree. It is nice. Did you come here for something?"

Hisoka's back is facing you, preventing you from seeing the teasing smirk on his face. "No... I just came to see how you are doing." His voice comes out silky smooth, like feathers that smell like roses and blood. "Is that against the rules?"

Why would he care about how you are doing? You pause, then say, "Well I'm doing fine. A little worried about Illumi, I guess. How are you?"

"Illumi is fine. He's catching up on jobs that had to be pushed back due to Killua and Gon's troubles with the troupe."

Of course, you don't know that that was a lie.

"Oh." Hisoka walks into the kitchen area, then leans against the counter. You follow him. "Would you like some water or anything?"

"No." He blinks slowly, eyes trained on you. God, his expression is so nerve-wracking. It always looks like he is analyzing you. "Have you been sitting in your hotel since then?"

"Since when?"

He raises a brow. "Since rescuing my precious fruit."

"Oh. Uh, kinda."

He chuckles, looking at his fingernails. You are thankful for the break in eye contact get yourself a glass of water. He stays silent while you do so, surely pondering something.

"Would you like to go out for dinner with me tonight?"

You almost drop the glass. It teeters in your nervous grip. "Dinner?"

He glances at you.

You take a sip of water to stall, even if it's only for a second. His eyes don't leave your face, which only makes it hard to swallow.

"Sure," you mutter. "I have nothing better to do."

A chime rings through the room. It is your text ringtone. You set the glass on the counter and pull your phone out of your pocket as Hisoka stands there, observing curiously.

It is a text from an unknown number. It reads:

1+ (248)-000-0000
Jikoria Wai. He will be at 204 Fex Street at midnight. 1,000,000 jenny. Meet me at 9pm tomorrow night, Barrio's. Get it done before then.

Your eyes widen a bit. One million jenny? For one job?

"Hisoka, do you know anyone named Jikoria Wai?"

"Can't say I do. What makes you ask?"

"Well, someone wants me to kill them," you inform him, still staring at your phone. You reread the text, twice, three times, four times. You give them a text back, affirming that you'll do the job. "At midnight tonight."

"Would you like my help, darling?"

You glare at him, locking your phone and setting it on the counter. "No, I can handle it myself," you answer.

He giggles quietly. "Of course. My apologies."

You sigh. One million. A high price. So this Jikoria person must be strong. Possibly a Nen user, or perhaps he has multiple body guards that will need to be taken care of as well. Should you train before hand? Make a plan? No, you do not have enough details to do either of those. Until you arrive at the location and time, you will not know what to expect. Maybe later you can walk by the address, just to see if it is an apartment or an office or a bar or something. Or you can just look it up on—

"Stop thinking."

You blink. "Hm?"

"You're thinking about it too hard." Somehow, a card has manifested in Hisoka's hand. The Joker. "Thinking will do you no good."

"That's not true," you say. "Thinking always puts you a step ahead."

"Not in this case, since you don't have any solid information... I'm assuming."  He flicks the card between five fingers, then makes it vanish. He lifts himself from the edge of the counter and exhales. "I'll come back to pick you up at six. Be ready!"

He gives you an oddly normal smile, then exists the hotel room, closing the front door behind him.

///

There is a reason for Illumi's absence.

He is trying desperately to fix his heart.

A strained cry tears its way through the depths of his chest, pain forcing his back to arch. His wrists, bloodied with struggle, yank against his cuffs as if this time, he might break them and deem his body free. No matter how much training he puts himself through, he will never be used to this kind of agony.

Milluki presses a button, and the pain stops. Illumi's body falls feebly against his restraints, his torn muscles weeping within strengthened skin—the only thing that has weakened from this bit is his body; the desperate thrall of love remains ever-present in his veins. The feeling curls groping, delicate fingers around every fiber of his being, consuming him, providing haven in these moments of torture.

"Brother, I fear that you are pushing yourself too hard," Milluki says. "I'm sure dad agrees. Maybe you should—"

"More."

Illumi's black eyes stare hard at the concrete ground, which is making his knees throb. The only reason he has not collapsed is due to the cuffs holding up his arms. His body sways, exhausted and drenched in oily sweat. Flyaways dangle over his forehead. Metal rings cling to each of his fingers, and around his bare stomach, neck, thighs, and calves. The only bit of clothing he wears is a square of fabric around his crotch.

"Again, brother," Illumi continues. "The feeling has not gone away yet."

Milluki yawns. "Your wish is my command," he says sarcastically, pressing another button.

A new wave of electrical affliction courses through Illumi's nerves, forcing another scream from his throat. Tears spring from his dark eyes—tears of desperation. It hurts so bad, he thinks his body might give out; the last fragile strands of his soul miserably grasp to life, praying that they can hold on, all while Illumi tries to exorcise the love from his heart. His deranged self really thinks this will work.

Just then, the door opens. Illumi does not hear it, because his ears are drowning in screams, but Milluki looks up. It is Silva.

"Stop this at once," Silva demands, arms crossed. His eyes narrow at Milluki, who hurriedly stops Illumi's suffering. Illumi gasps for breath, hunching over the ground once again. He vomits violently.

"Unchain him," Silva continues. "Ill and I need to have a chat."